This sonata, like the “Moonlight” and several others in the collection
of Beethoven’s piano work bearing this name, is not cast in the usual
sonata mold; in fact, it is not a sonata at all, according to the modern
technical application of the term. But as the name sonata was originally
derived from the Italian verb _sonare_, to sound, or, in musical
parlance, to cause to sound, to play upon a musical instrument, and was
used to designate any piece of instrumental music whatsoever, in
distinction from that which was intended to be sung, it is perhaps as
correctly employed in this connection as in any other.
The first movement of this work consists of a simple, beautiful,
melodious, noble lyric theme, followed by five strongly contrasted and
strikingly characteristic variations, and an exquisitely tender and
expressive little coda.
The _theme and variations_, not only in this, but in every case where
the form is well wrought out, is a musical illustration of the natural,
logical process of evolution. The simple, vital germ of thought or
feeling, inherent in the theme, as the life principle inheres in the
germ of wheat, is seen to expand gradually and develop through the
successive variations into new and changing forms of ever-increasing
beauty and suggestiveness until every latent possibility of expression
has been matured and exhausted, and the idea has been presented to us in
every practicable light and from every attainable standpoint; just as
the gradual growth and ripening of the wheat, subjected to nature’s
infinite variety of conditions and her ceaseless alternation of day and
night, cold and heat, sun and rain, calm and storm, present to us daily
some change of form and hue, some new phase of its progressive
existence, until complete maturity is reached and its utmost limit of
development attained.
A still better analogy may be drawn from human experience itself, from
the constant modification and development of a given character,
subjected to the shifting vicissitudes and changeful, often conflicting
influences of daily life. It is interesting and helpful, in studying or
listening to any work in the _theme and variation_ form, to conceive of
the theme as symbolizing a definite personality, as of hero or heroine
in a narrative, a personality clearly marked, but undeveloped, distinct
to the mind of the composer, and which the performer or hearer should
endeavor to grasp with equal definiteness. Each variation may then
represent some varying phase of life, some different experience or
influence, or emotional condition, bearing upon this typified
personality. The peculiar mood and suggestive characteristics of each
variation must be clearly perceived and strongly emphasized, and its due
relation to the whole work preserved, while the underlying,
all-pervading theme must be kept intelligibly recognizable through all
its most capricious and widely contrasting modifications, to give
purpose and continuity to the whole; just as the strongly marked
individuality of a well-drawn character is traceable through all the
manifold vicissitudes of life and may be counted on to follow out its
own inherent laws of evolution, no matter what the circumstances or
conditions to which it may be subjected.
Let us, in the case of this sonata, conceive of the first simple theme
as suggesting, through the subtle symbolism of tone effects, the
character of our hero, gravely tender, calmly resolute, nobly, warmly,
generously affectionate, with much of innate strength, tempered by
gentleness and latent passion, refined by ideality.
In the first variation life presents itself to him as a serious but
interesting and agreeable problem, possessing the charm of mystery. He
investigates, speculates, reflects, lingers fascinated upon the
threshold of the shadowy unknown, enjoys the vague delight of its dim
but inviting perspective.
In the second he faces storm and conflict, revels in the discovery and
fullest exercise of his own strength and courage and in his successful
wrestle with danger and difficulty. The mood here is bold, heroic, full
of life and energy.
In the third our hero is suddenly confronted by the twin giants, death
and despair. The shadow of their sable forms envelops him with
impenetrable gloom. His soul is crushed by a weight as of a leaden pall,
and from the depths it sends up a half-stifled cry of unutterable,
inarticulate anguish, equaled by nothing in literature, unless it may be
by the verses of Edgar Allan Poe entitled “The Conqueror Worm.”
The fourth variation brings a reaction toward a brighter mood, flashes
of sunlight through parting clouds, fitful gleams of spasmodic gaiety,
half hope, half defiance, showing intermittently against the somber
background of grief.
Finally, the fifth and last variation is a tender, cheerful love poem,
telling, with a charming intermingling of fervent warmth and playful
brightness, of the sovereign magic of human affection, in which the
tried spirit has at last found solace and repose; while the brief but
significant little coda seems like a dreamy retrospect, a tender
reminiscence of bygone joys, and griefs, and struggles, tempered by
distance and brightened by the light of present happiness.
If the work ended here it would be well rounded and complete, and it may
be, in fact often is, presented in this form, entirely omitting the
other three movements. But though not indispensable to the symmetry of
the composition, the remaining three movements of the sonata are all
intrinsically interesting and enjoyable, and embody three radically
differing types of emotional life. In them we are dealing no longer with
an individual experience, but with general moods, with abstract elements
and conditions.
The principal subject of the scherzo is bright, piquant, exhilarating;
expressing unmixed, uncontrolled gaiety, toned down for a moment in the
trio to a touch of arch tenderness, but immediately breaking away again
into rollicking hilarity. It should be given with great clearness and
crispness, very little pedal, and a clean, sparkling tone, like sharply
cut glass icicles with the sun behind them. The term _scherzo_ is an
Italian word, signifying a jest, and all that is most capricious,
sportive, and humorous in music finds expression in this form.
The third movement is one of the two great funeral marches for the piano
in existence, the other being that in the sonata, Op. 35, by Chopin.
This one by Beethoven is so forcefully characteristic in mood and
movement, so full of gloomy grandeur, of dramatic intensity, of depth
and richness of somber harmonic coloring, that it may be ranked among
his very ablest artistic creations. It should be played with the utmost
fullness and sonority of tone, but not extremely loud even in the
climaxes, and never hard or rough; so as to convey the impression of
suppressed power and of a noble, sustained sorrow, not a spasmodic,
petulant distress. Its inflexible, unvarying rhythm throughout should
suggest, not only the slow, solemn movement of the funeral procession,
the heavily tolling bells, the awed, hushed grief of the mourners, but
as well the more abstract and universal thoughts of the slow but
relentless march of time and destiny and the might and majesty of death.
The last movement of the sonata is in the usual rondo form, light,
graceful, ethereal, with a certain subdued cheerfulness, telling of
dreamy aspiration and vague, intuitive faith in ultimate good, of the
airy, upward flight of light-winged hope toward a brighter realm beyond
the grave, where pain and death shall be remembered only as the minor
cadences and passing dissonances which lead to the enhanced beauty of
the final major harmony.
The sonata as a whole is one of the most interesting productions of
Beethoven’s second period, and is technically within the reach of most
good amateurs.