Sonata in A major Op.101 (1816)

1 Allegretto ma non tropo 2 Vivace, alla marcia 3 Adagio non troppo con affetto - Tempo del primo pezzo - 4 Allegro

The Piano Sonata in A major Op.101 is one of the first examples of “late Beethoven” and his rethinking of large-scale forms. It is not enormously long – it is less than half the length of its successor, the “Hammerklavier” – but it is remarkably flexible. The first movement is extraordinary in that, based on one serenly lyrical theme, it takes shape as an open-ended structure that it cannot resist being swept aside by an impulsive (oddly Schumannesque) march. The rest of the sonata is devoted to reconciling the two or, at least, to closing a framework round them. Beethoven begins, however, by introducing another problematic element – a slow movement which, cut short by a cadenza, leads into an almost literal repetition of the first four bars of the work. On another cadenza and a long trill the the initiative is dramatically snatched by the decisive first theme of the finale – a theme which is derived melodically, but obviously not rhythmically, from the opening four bars of the work. The subject of the vigorously sustained three-part fugue in the middle of the movement derives from the same source. The structural point having been made, the fugue is not recalled at the end but replaced by a witty coda.

L’istesso tempo di arioso – L’istesso tempo della fuga

“Written,” according to the composer “in a single breath,” Beethoven’s last three sonatas occupied him for well over a year. They are all inspired, however, by the same vision of serenity, which in the Sonata in A flat major finds expression in a sublime fugal finale. Completed in 1821, it is an epic of an A flat major paradise lost, partly through the sinister influence of F minor, and with difficulty regained. The ideal is expressed in A flat major and con amabilità by the first theme of the first movement and there is nothing in the exposition to disturb the prevailing calm. In the development, however, there is.The brief and apparently unsensational appearance of the first subject in F minor proves in the long term to be a traumatic experience

The memory of the F minor experience haunts the Allegro molto scherzo, in spite of the intervention of the lovely D flat major middle section. Beginning in the strangely inimical key of B flat minor, by way of a recitative the Adagio ma non troppo breaks into what Beethoven describes as an arioso dolente – a lament in A flat minor and the direct antithesis of the serene opening of the sonata in spite of certain melodic similarities. The first of the two fugal episodes does not regain that ideal state, even though it begins in A flat major, since the arioso returns not only dolente this time but also perdende le forze (“losing strength”) and eventually falling apart in isolated chords. However, poi    a poi di nuovo vivente (“gradually returning to life”), the fugue resumes its search. By turning its subject upside down, by apparently slowing it down and by taking it through a variety of major and minor harmonies, the fugue eventually finds its way back to A flat major, transforming itself from quest to celebration as it approaches its end.

Etwas lebhaft, und mit der innigsten Empfindung (Fairly quick and with the most inward feeling)

Lebhaft, marschmässig (Lively, marchlike)

Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll - Zeitmass des ersten Stückes -

(Slow and full of longing - Tempo of the first movement - )

Geschwind , doch nicht zu sehr, und mit Entschlossenheit

(Quick, but not too much so, and with decision)

The general tendency of Beethoven’s work in the last twenty or so years of life was not, of course, to explore the virtues of brevity - brilliantly though he did it in the Bagatelles, Op.126 - but to rethink the large-scale forms and, in most cases, to expand them. Indeed, when he wrote those Bagatelles, he had completed not only the last of his Piano Sonatas but also the Diabelli Variations, the Missa Solemnis and the Choral Symphony and he was about to turn his mature attention to the string quartet.

    The Piano Sonata in A major, Op.101, which was composed in 1816 and published (with its German movement headings) a year later, was one of the first products of Beethoven’s late structural thinking. It is not enormously long - it is less than half the length of its successor in B flat major, the “Hammerklavier,” Op.106 - but it is remarkably flexible in form. The first movement is extraordinary in that, by deliberately eluding sonata-form expectations, it takes shape as an open-ended rather than self-contained structure. Its serenely lyrical first (and virtually only) theme is introduced more in the dominant than the tonic and shows less inclination to settle down in A major than to float up into B major. It definitively arrives in A major only towards the end of the recapitulation.

    No sooner is A major established as the tonic key    than it is swept aside in the second movement by an impulsive, oddly Schumannesque march in F major. The B major trio section, basically a canonic two-part invention, is even further from the first movement, in both character and tonality. So, at this stage, Beethoven has presented a poetic improvisation which ends in A major and a firmly structured march in F major. The rest of the sonata is devoted to reconciling the two or, at least, to closing a framework round them.

    Beethoven begins, however, by introducing another problematic element - half a slow movement in A minor, its mysterious presence intensified by being played una corda throughout. Its function is similar to that of the slow Introduzione to the last movement of the “Waldstein” except that it leads not into the main theme of the finale but into an almost literal repetition of the first four bars of the first movement. This time there is no chance of a prolonged escape into the dominant: as the tempo accelerates on a short cadenza and a long trill, the initiative is dramatically snatched by the decisively A major first theme of the finale - a theme which is derived melodically, but obviously not rhythmically, from the opening four bars of the work.

    A consistent feature of this last movement is the interplay between two or three voices. It persists in the second subject, which is a delightful country dance in E major, and is extended into a tense fugue in A minor in the development section. The subject of the fugue derives, of course, from the main theme and, since that in its turn is derived from the main theme of the first movement, the composer has surely made his structural point by the end of the development. There is a formal recapitulation and, instead of the fugue which is apparently about to begin again, a witty coda.

Gerald Larner©

arranged for string sextet by Rudolf Leopold

Etwas lebhaft, und mit der innigsten Empfindung

Lebhaft, marschmässig -

Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll - Zeitmass des ersten Stückes -

Geschwind, doch nicht zu sehr, und mit Entschlossenheit

The repertoire of music conceived specifically for string sextet - two each of violins, violas and cellos - is not extensive. Before Brahms, indeed, it scarcely existed. Boccherini produced a few string sextets, as you might have guessed, and there is an early example by Louis Spohr, who wrote his Sextet in C major ten or more years before Brahms completed the first of his two masterpieces in B flat and G major respectively. The most significant additions to the repertoire since then have been two programmatic works, Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir de Florence and Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht, and the extraordinary sextet introduction to Richard Strauss’s opera Capriccio. So, with little else of distinction to draw on - although there are sextets by Dvorak, Rimsky-Korsakov, Borodin and Martinu among others - it is not surprising that protagonists of the medium should seek to extend the repertoire by arranging music written originally for other instruments.

Beethoven’s late Piano Sonata in A major Op.101 might seem to be a surprising choice - but not to Rudolf Leopold, who declares that he thought about arranging it for strings as soon as he got to know it. As one of the cellists in the Vienna String Sextet, he recognised the potential in the “specially inward and lyrical character” of a work which with its “often orchestral writing and its occasional dark colouring” seemed ideally suited to an ensemble of six strings. From the moment Leopold and his colleagues first tried it out, he says, “the dreamy first movement, the polyphonic march, the profound Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll and above all the fugue in the last movement were heard in a new light. We are convinced that the string sextet repertoire has been enriched by one of Beethoven’s greatest works.”

As material for a string sextet Beethoven’s score certainly has its attractions, beginning with the legato melody that floats so easily out of the opening bars and hovers over the Etwas lebhaft (rather lively) first movement in sustained harmonic freedom. Tending towards the dominant E major, it definitively settles on A major only towards the end of the recapitulation. Almost as soon as the tonic key is established it is swept aside by the impulsive F-major march material that opens the second movement. This Lebhaft, marschmässig (lively, march-like) inspiration must have been more problematic for the arranger, not least because of the percussive element that is such a prominent feature of the piano writing here. The orchestral tremolandos, on the other hand, are probably more appropriate to a string sextet than they are to the piano. But how does a six-part ensemble participate in what is basically a two-part invention in the canonic trio section in B major?

By this stage Beethoven has presented a poetic improvisation which ends in A major and a firmly structured march in F major. The rest of the work is devoted to reconciling the two or, at least, to closing a framework round them. He begins, however, by introducing another problematic element, half a slow movement in A minor marked Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll (slow and full of longing), its mysterious presence intensified by being played una corda throughout - a sound peculiar to the piano which might or might not find a parallel here in muted strings. Its function is similar to that of the slow Introduzione to the last movement of the “Waldstein” except that it leads not into the main theme of the finale but into an almost literal repetition of the first four bars of the first movement. This time there is no chance of a prolonged escape into the dominant: as the tempo accelerates on a short cadenza and a long trill, the initiative is dramatically snatched by the decisively A major first theme of the finale - a theme which is derived melodically, but obviously not rhythmically, from the opening four bars of the work.

A consistent feature of this last movement - Geschwind, doch nicht zu sehr, und mit Entschlossenheit (quick, but not too much so, and decisively) - is the imitative interplay between two, three or even four voices. It persists in the second subject, which is a delightful country dance in E major, and is extended into a tense fugue in A minor in the development section, where the distinctive colours of the string instruments should do much to clarify the four-part texture. The subject of the fugue derives, of course, from the main theme and, since that in its turn is derived from the main theme of the first movement, the composer has surely made his structural point by the end of the development. After a formal recapitulation, instead of the fugue which is apparently about to begin again there is a coda so wittily scored for piano that it must have presented a particularly intriguing problem for the arranger.