The Final Three Sonatas

Sonata No. 30 in E major, Op. 109

Composed 1820, published 1821. Dedicated to Maximiliane Brentano I. Vivace ma non troppo. Adagio espressivo II. Prestissimo III. Gesangvoll, mit innigster Empfindung. Andante molto cantabile ed espressivo

Sonata No. 31 in A-flat major, Op. 110

Composed 1821-2, published 1822 I. Moderato cantabile molto espressivo II. Scherzo: Allegro molto III. Adagio ma non troppo. Fuga: Allegro ma non troppo

Sonata No. 32 in C minor, Op. 111

Composed 1821-2, published 1823. Dedicated to Archduke Rudolf I. Maestoso – Allegro con brio ed appassionato II. Arietta: Adagio molto semplice cantabile

While the Hammerklavier seems to push the fourmovement sonata to its limits, Beethoven did not seek to emulate its scale in the final three piano sonatas, but instead took up again the formal experiments of the sonatas written immediately before Op. 106. The change in tone can be seen immediately, in the E major Sonata, Op. 109. Instead of the expansiveness of the Hammerklavier we find formal compression, particularly in its first two movements which together are not even half the length of the variation-form finale. The first movement is one of Beethoven’s strangest and most beautiful sonata forms. It is concise, but articulated in such a way that it barely seems like a sonata form at all. In earlier sonatas, notably the Pathétique, Op. 13 and Tempest, Op. 31, No. 2, Beethoven had toyed with the structural possibilities of combining slow and fast music in a first movement, but in these earlier examples the interaction was always placed in dialogue with the convention of a slow introduction to the sonata form proper. In the case of Op. 109 the slow tempo is presented entirely within the sonata form action itself, contributing to an overall effect which is both organic and episodic. This sense of contrast embedded in the fabric of the music is taken further when the Prestissimo second movement emerges in E minor, suddenly and dramatically out of the resonance at the end of the first movement. Like the first movement, this one seems to point in two different directions. It has many of the characteristics of a scherzo, but is structured as a sonata form (indeed the sonata form is significantly more conventional than the first movement’s). These two contrasting sonata form movements together form a structural upbeat to the larger final movement. In placing the structural weight of the work in the final movement Beethoven was returning to the strategy he had used in Op. 101 albeit with a very different type of final movement. There is an immediate change in scale. The binary form theme, which will provide the basis of the ensuing variations, alone lasts nearly as long as the entire second movement. The nature of variation form means that the music continues to be episodic, but the many cross references to the earlier movements also ensure a strong sense of connectedness. The contrasting textures of the variations climax in a shimmering of trills and arabesques which clothe the theme in rich pianistic sonorities. It is followed by the plainest of restatements of the original theme, which naturally provokes comparisons with the end of the Goldberg Variations, and concludes this sonata of surprises in a muted but satisfying manner.

The A-flat major Sonata, Op. 110 also has three movements, but in almost every other respect

differs from Op. 109. The first movement resumes the combination of sonata form and lyricism which had occupied Beethoven in the Sonatas Op. 78 and Op. 101. The lyricism is combined with a fastidious motivic technique, and, like those earlier lyrical sonatas, the music often seems on the verge of song. Like the structure of the whole sonata, the first movement is weighted towards its end where the recapitulation incorporates the most surprising harmonic twists in the movement. The second movement is a fast and furious scherzo, thought to make reference to popular Viennese songs. It is both humorous and unsettling, with a constantly shifting sense of metre and dynamic. At first it seems as though the movement will end with hammered F minor chords, but the energy of the music dissipates and is replaced by a quiet ripple of F major. The last movement is an extraordinary combination of slow movement and finale, and of the most freeflowing arioso and the strict discipline of fugue. Like the first movement of Op. 109, this is an inventive merging of slow and fast music within a single structure. It is also a development of the examples in earlier sonatas (like the Waldstein, Op. 53) where a slow movement becomes a slow introduction to the finale. The initial slow section includes a recitative-like passage – a device he was also to use in the finale of the Ninth Symphony. It is followed by an Arioso dolente (‘sorrowful song’) in a richly expressive A-flat minor. The relationship between this slow section and the following fugue is, at this stage of the movement, something akin to prelude and fugue. The fugue itself makes clear reference to the first theme of the first movement, but the fugue is interrupted by a second verse of the arioso in the surprising key of G minor: its sorrowful nature intensified, its sighs more poignant. The second fugue which follows is most remarkable, beginning with the subject in inversion before unleashing a whole panoply of fugal devices. This is no exercise in dry counterpoint. The fugue energetically wrestles the music from its off-tonic opening in G major back to the tonic A-flat, creating an exhilarating conclusion from the combination of elaborate counterpoint and harmonic arrival. The final Sonata, Op. 111, returns to the twomovement scheme first used in the most unassuming of the sonatas (Op. 49) and developed subsequently in Opp. 54, 78 and 90. This is its most expansive iteration. The overall scheme is developed from that of Op. 49, No. 1 and Op. 90: a minor-key first movement followed by a finale in the tonic major. Like an earlier C minor Sonata, the Pathétique, Op. 13, it begins with a slow introduction, characterised by the formality of dotted rhythms and the harmonic ambiguity of diminished seventh chords. These prepare for the sonata-allegro which follows, and which is unleashed with an explosion of energy. The role of fugue had been clear in the finale of Op. 110, but is considerably more ambiguous here. The movement initially seems to flirt with fugal textures before revealing a short double-fugue in

the development section. There is a different sort of ambiguity at the end of the movement. Like the ending of the scherzo of Op. 110, it seems at first as though the music will reach a forceful conclusion in the minor; but repeated sforzando chords slowly recede and the music settles on a C major chord in preparation for the final movement. As in Op. 109, the finale is a set of variations and again the final movement makes up by far the larger part of the whole work. It was written at the same time as Beethoven was working on his monumental Diabelli Variations, Op. 120 which, together with the finales of Opp. 109 and 111, comprise an unrivalled compendium of piano variations. During the first variations of the finale, the pace of the music slowly accelerates as faster note values are introduced. The third variation positively revels in its ‘swung’ rhythms. Towards the end the theme re-emerges, clothed with trills and arabesques in a moment of serenity. These last three sonatas seem to have been written as a group, and are frequently performed together. They provide an interesting point of comparison with the first group, the Op. 2 Sonatas, written some 30 years earlier. In terms simply of total length of music, the two sets of three sonatas are surprisingly similar. Beethoven’s development of the genre was never simply a matter of increasing scale. None of the final three sonatas adopts the four-movement scheme of the Op. 2 Sonatas; while the earlier sonatas share the same broad pattern of movement types, Opp. 109, 110 and 111 each adopts a unique arrangement. Unlike Op. 2, none of the final three sonatas has a conventionally placed slow movement. All of the later group place structural weight on their final movements, a significant contrast with the early sonatas, many of which conclude with a relatively lightweight rondo. Beethoven’s compositional ambition had been abundantly clear in the Op. 2 Sonatas. But they scarcely prepare us for the extended development of the genre he was about to undertake in these 32 compositions. The heroic peaks of the Hammerklavier and Appassionata, the generic and structural experiments of the Moonlight and Tempest, the profound late-style of the final three sonatas – these are often seen as the highest achievement of the Beethoven sonata. But the lyricism of Op. 78 and Op. 101, the concision and understated qualities of Op. 14, and the unfamiliar beauties of Op. 54 are also vital aspects of the unique achievement. It is only in a complete survey like this that the fully developed range of Beethoven’s musical style becomes truly apparent.