Sonata in E major, Op.109

Classical variation form as Beethoven found it did not interest him very much. The convention that the metre, tonality and harmonic structure of the basic theme were to be preserved throughout, even though its melody and rhythm were subject to variation, was too restrictive. Beethoven used the form often enough but it wasn’t until he wrote the Variations in F Op.34 and the “Eroica” Variations Op.35 “in a quite new manner” that he produced a set of piano variations he considered worthy of an opus number. In the context of a larger work, however – like the Sonata in A major Op109 – the unreformed conventions of classical variation form could serve a serious, indeed ideal purpose.

The variation movement of Op109 is preceded by a comparatively short Vivace ma non troppo and an even shorter Prestissimo, each one of them somehow incomplete, so as to reserve the major effect for the Andante molto cantabile. Although, in spite of its evasiveness, the first movement offers one or two glimpses of an E major ideal, the second movement does nothing of the kind. It is an intense and determined Prestissimo in E minor which is so closed in on itself that the middle section finds its material in the bass line of the first theme.

The ideal, to be expressed with “the most inward feeling” according to the composer, is represented by the peaceful E major theme of the last movement. By presenting all seven variations in the same basic tonality he can sustain the serenity while taking all kinds of risks with it. After the prophetically nocturnal elegance of the first variation, he varies the pace and turns his attention to linking the two preceding movements with present developments. The broken figuration of the Leggieramente second variation seems to echo the opening Vivace and the impulsive third variation is almost a major-key version of the Prestissimo – which now falls into place in the larger structure if at some temporary cost to tranquillity.

The fourth variation, with its percussive second half, only temporarily restores the calm and the rigorous fugato disrupts it completely. But Beethoven has two peaceful inspirations left. One (which he develops further in Op.111) is a variation in the same tempo as the original theme animated by increasingly rapid figuration but restrained by a basic pulse rate which remains constant. The other is the final reappearance of the original theme in its former simplicity, its serenity all the more precious after its intervening absence.

Baron van Swieten knew Beethoven too. It might well be that it was through van Swieten - the dedicatee of his First Symphony, incidentally - that Beethoven got to know the music of Handel, whom he later came to regard as the greatest of all composers. He admired J.S. Bach scarcely less. Brought up on the preludes and fugues of The Well-Tempered Clavier, once he had mastered the contrapuntal forms in his early years in Vienna he was a resourceful and increasingly dedicated exponent of fugal thinking. In the late piano sonatas, although it was not by this stage the cult it was to become in the late quartets, fugue has an important, sometimes even crucial, function. The fugato variation in the last movement of Op.109, for example, has an essential role in testing the serenity which is postulated at the beginning of the work and which is confirmed, but only after its vigorously contrapuntal intervention, at the end.

The Sonata, Op.109, opens with an innocently happy Vivace theme in E major. Almost as soon as it has begun, however, it is interrupted by a thoughtful Adagio improvisation in B minor, the function of which is not so much to act as a second subject as to dislocate sonata-form continuity. So again, after developing the Vivace material and bringing back the first theme in E major at the top of a crescendo, Beethoven promptly deflects it. The Adagio fantasia reappears in its place - in the tonic this time but not so definitively as to prevent serious harmonic misgivings arising in the Vivace coda.

In spite of its evasiveness, the first movement does offer one or two glimpses of the E major ideal. The second movement does nothing of the kind. It is an intense and determined Prestissimo in E minor which is so closed in on itself that the middle section finds its material in the bass line of the first theme. In spite of a vague thematic relationship with the first movement, the Prestissimo seems at this stage out of place here.

The serene ideal, to be expressed with “the most inward feeling” according to the composer’s instructions to the pianist, is represented by the peaceful E major theme of the last movement. His strategy is to develop it in six variations and, while taking all kinds of risks with it, to sustain the serenity by preserving the same basic key throughout. After the prophetically nocturnal elegance of the first variation, he varies the pace and turns his attention to linking the two preceding movements with present events. The broken figuration of the Leggieramente second variation seems to echo the opening Vivace; the impulsive third variation is almost a major-key version of the Prestissimo, which now falls into place in the larger structure, though at some cost to tranquillity.

The fourth variation, with its percussive second half, only briefly restores the calm. The texturally rigorous, harmonically challenging and dynamically punitive fugato fifth variation disrupts it completely. But there are two peaceful inspirations left. One (which is developed further in Op.111) is a variation in the same tempo as the original theme animated by increasingly rapid figuration but restrained by an underlying pulse rate which remains constant. The other is the final reappearance of the theme in its original simplicity, its serenity all the more precious after the tests it has gone through.

Not counting theme-and-variations movements in larger works, like the Andante con moto in the Sonata “Appassionata” or the Andante molto cantabile in this Sonata in E major, Op.109, Beethoven wrote twenty sets of variations for piano. Of these, only four were awarded an opus number. The fact is that – until he set out to elevate it “in a quite new manner” in the Variations in F Op.34 and the “Prometheus” Variations Op.35 and to transcend it in the “Diabelli” set Op. 120 – he did not find classical variation form very interesting.

It could, on the other hand, be uniquely valuable in a wider context. If he wanted to reflect a vision of peace as he did in 1820, in the last movement of the Sonata in E Op.109 it was in variation form that he chose to do it, using whatever he needed of the conventions to create an unchanging background to an eventful foreground. He had done something similar fifteen years earlier, though in a totally different frame of mind, in the “Appassionata” and he was soon to do it again in the Sonata in C minor Op.111.

In Op.109 the variation movement is preceded by a comparatively short Vivace ma non troppo and an even shorter Prestissimo, each one of them somehow incomplete, so as to reserve the major effect for the Andante molto cantabile.. The work begins with a happy little Vivace theme in E major which is interrupted, almost as soon as it has begun, by a thoughtful Adagio improvisation in B minor. The function of this fantasia episode is not so much to act as a second subject as, both here and later in the movement, to dislocate sonata-form continuity.

In spite of its evasiveness, the first movement does offer one or two glimpses of the E major ideal. The second movement does nothing of the kind. It is an intense and determined Prestissimo in E minor which is so closed in on itself that the middle section finds its material in the bass line of the first theme. In spite of a vague thematic relationship with the first movement, the Prestissimo seems at this stage out of place here. It demands a wider context.

The ideal, to be expressed with “the most inward feeling” according to the composer, is represented by the peaceful E major theme of the last movement. Then, by presenting all seven variations in the same basic tonality, he can sustain the serenity while taking all kinds of risks with it. After the prophetically nocturnal elegance of the first variation, he varies the pace and turns his attention to linking the two preceding movements with present developments. The broken figuration of the Leggieramente second variation seems to echo the opening Vivace and the impulsive third variation is almost a major-key version of the Prestissimo – which now falls into place in the larger structure if at some temporary cost to tranquillity.

The fourth variation, with its percussive second half, only temporarily restores the calm and the rigorous fugato disrupts it completely. But Beethoven has two peaceful inspirations left. One (which he develops further in Op.111) is a variation in the same tempo as the original theme animated by increasingly rapid figuration but restrained by a basic pulse rate which remains constant. The other is the final reappearance of the original theme in its former simplicity, its serenity all the more precious after its intervening absence.

Not counting theme-and-variations movements in larger works, like the Andante con moto in the Sonata “Appassionata” or the Andante molto cantabile in this Sonata in E major Op.109, Beethoven wrote twenty sets of variations for piano. Of these, only four were awarded an opus number. The fact is that, until he set out to elevate it “in a quite new manner” in the Variations in F Op.34 and the “Prometheus” Variations Op.35, he did not take classical variation form very seriously. The problem with the form as he had found it was that, although the melody and rhythm of the basic theme were subject to variation, its tonality, metre and harmonic structure were generally expected to be preserved throughout. For Beethoven such conventions were not very interesting. They could, on the other hand, be uniquely valuable: if he wanted to reflect a vision of peace as he did in 1820, in the last movement of the Sonata in E, Op.109, it was in variation form that he chose to do it, using whatever he needed of the conventions to create an unchanging background to an eventful foreground.

In Op.109 the variation movement is preceded by a comparatively short Vivace ma non troppo and an even shorter Prestissimo, each one of them somehow incomplete, so as to reserve the major effect for the Andante molto cantabile. The work begins with a happy little Vivace theme in E major which is interrupted, almost as soon as it has begun, by a thoughtful Adagio improvisation in B minor. The function of this fantasia episode is not so much to act as a second subject as to dislocate sonata-form continuity. So again, after developing the Vivace material and bringing back the first theme in E major on the crest of a crescendo, he promptly deflects it. The Adagio fantasia is reintroduced in its place - in the tonic this time but not so conclusively as to have a stabilising effect on the elusively harmonised Vivace coda.

In spite of its evasiveness, the first movement does offer one or two glimpses of the E major ideal. The second movement does nothing of the kind. It is an intense and determined Prestissimo in E minor which is so closed in on itself that the middle section finds its material in the bass line of the first theme. In spite of a vague thematic relationship with the first movement, the Prestissimo seems at this stage out of place here. It demands a wider context.

The ideal, to be expressed with “the most inward feeling” according to the composer, is represented by the peaceful E major theme of the last movement. By presenting all seven variations in the same basic tonality he can sustain the serenity while taking all kinds of risks with it. After the prophetically nocturnal elegance of the first variation, he varies the pace and turns his attention to linking the two preceding movements with present developments. The broken figuration of the Leggieramente second variation seems to echo the opening Vivace and the impulsive third variation is almost a major-key version of the Prestissimo - which now falls into place in the larger structure, if at some temporary cost to tranquillity.

The fourth variation, with its percussive second half, only temporarily restores the calm and the rigorous fugato disrupts it completely. But Beethoven has two peaceful inspirations left. One (which he develops further in Op.111) is a variation in the same tempo as the original theme animated by increasingly rapid figuration but restrained by a basic pulse rate which remains constant. The other is the final reappearance of the original theme in its former simplicity, its serenity all the more precious after its intervening absence.

Not counting theme-and-variations movements in larger works, like the Andante con moto in the Sonata “Appassionata” or the Andante molto cantabile in this Sonata in E major, Op.109, Beethoven wrote twenty sets of variations for piano. Of these, only four were awarded an opus number. The fact is that - until he set out to elevate it “in a quite new manner” in the Variations in F, Op.34 and the “Prometheus” Variations, Op.35, and to transcend it in the “Diabelli” set, Op. 120 - he did not take classical variation form very seriously. The problem with the form as he had found it (and exploited it) was that, although the melody and rhythm of the basic theme were subject to variation, its tonality, metre and harmonic structure were generally expected to be preserved throughout. For Beethoven such conventions were not very interesting.

They could, on the other hand, be uniquely valuable. If he wanted to reflect a vision of peace as he did in 1820, in the last movement of the Sonata in E, Op.109, it was in variation form that he chose to do it, using whatever he needed of the conventions to create an unchanging background to an eventful foreground. He had done something similar fifteen years earlier, though in a totally different frame of mind, in the Andante con moto of the “Appassionata” and he was soon to do it again in the Sonata in C minor, Op.111.

In Op.109 the variation movement is preceded by a comparatively short Vivace ma non troppo and an even shorter Prestissimo, each one of them somehow incomplete, so as to reserve the major effect for the Andante molto cantabile. The work begins with a happy little Vivace theme in E major which is interrupted, almost as soon as it has begun, by a thoughtful Adagio improvisation in B minor. The function of this fantasia episode is not so much to act as a second subject as to dislocate sonata-form continuity. So again, after developing the Vivace material and bringing back the first theme in E major on the crest of a crescendo, he promptly deflects it. The Adagio fantasia is reintroduced in its place - in the tonic this time but not so conclusively as to have a stabilising effect on the elusively harmonised Vivace coda.

In spite of its evasiveness, the first movement does offer one or two glimpses of the E major ideal. The second movement does nothing of the kind. It is an intense and determined Prestissimo in E minor which is so closed in on itself that the middle section finds its material in the bass line of the first theme. In spite of a vague thematic relationship with the first movement, the Prestissimo seems at this stage out of place here. It demands a wider context.

The ideal, to be expressed with “the most inward feeling” according to the composer, is represented by the peaceful E major theme of the last movement. By presenting all seven variations in the same basic tonality he can sustain the serenity while taking all kinds of risks with it. After the prophetically nocturnal elegance of the first variation, he varies the pace and turns his attention to linking the two preceding movements with present developments. The broken figuration of the Leggieramente second variation seems to echo the opening Vivace and the impulsive third variation is almost a major-key version of the Prestissimo - which now falls into place in the larger structure if at some temporary cost to tranquillity.

The fourth variation, with its percussive second half, only temporarily restores the calm and the rigorous fugato disrupts it completely. But Beethoven has two peaceful inspirations left. One (which he develops further in Op.111) is a variation in the same tempo as the original theme animated by increasingly rapid figuration but restrained by a basic pulse rate which remains constant. The other is the final reappearance of the original theme in its former simplicity, its serenity all the more precious after its intervening absence.