Ravinia 2021 - Issue 2

taken the drastic step of securing loans from two publishers “notorious for their ruthless- ness toward those who seek help in this way.” The proud musician also hoped to refute persistent rumors in Vienna that he had be- come a lunatic unable to compose anything new. (His stone deafness, though, could not be denied!) Beethoven spent the summer “gathering and storing up ideas” at Mödling. Back in Vienna, the first sonata (E major, op. 109) took final form by year’s end. However, severe bouts of jaundice delayed the other two sonatas, ex- tending their completion dates to Decem- ber 25, 1821 (A-flat major, op. 110) and Janu- ary 13, 1822 (C minor, op. 111). In the meantime, Beethoven negotiated separate publication agreements with different firms in France, Germany, Austria, and England, thus ensuring the largest possible income. With ultimate self-interest, the composer pronounced these technically and intellectu- ally complex works as “really not very diffi- cult.” Unfortunately, the first edition by Pari- sian printer Maurice Schlesinger, son of the Berlin publisher, was fraught with errors. Beethoven spilled large quantities of ink cor- recting erroneous passages for later editions. Archduke Rudolph—Beethoven’s piano and composition pupil and patron—received the dedication of op. 111, although the London edition was inscribed to Antonie Brentano, who Beethoven scholar Maynard Solomon posits may be the composer’s “Immortal Beloved.” When Beethoven submitted his final sonata to Schlesinger in Berlin, the publisher was perplexed by its two-movement structure. Perhaps the copyist had forgotten to send the third movement, he reasoned. Schindler claimed that Beethoven admitted not having “time to write a third movement, and had therefore simply expanded the second.” This explanation seems highly improbable, since the perfectionist composer never had qualms about missing publisher’s deadlines in order to refine a new work. Karl van Beethoven, the composer’s nephew The true answer why op. 111 remained in two movements, and why it became the compos- er’s last piano sonata, may rest in a compo- sitional conundrum. Beethoven’s late style concentrated heavily on fugue and variation techniques, the very methods employed in op. 111. However, it became apparent in this work that the piano—or maybe the human hand—was becoming inadequate for delin- eating the multiple strands of melodic fila- ment woven into his mature musical textures. Beethoven forced techniques initially well suited to the keyboard (especially the fugue) beyond the limitations of their original me- dium. The composer must have recognized this predicament, as he abandoned the piano sonata genre and composed only one more significant keyboard work, the “Diabelli” Variations. The Sonata No. 32 in C minor, op. 111, begins with a majestic slow introduction filled with harmonic and rhythmic tension. An extend- ed bass tremolo leads to the more rapid main portion, a blazing combination of sonata form and fugue. Beethoven begins his initial theme like a fugue subject—an isolated me- lodic fragment followed by a complete theme presentation, building rhythmic motion into a steady outpouring of 16th notes. This melo- dy migrates throughout the texture, although not always in strict fugue. A second theme leaps between extreme high and low registers. Beethoven occasionally interrupts the mo- tion with slower phrases. Development be- gins with a bold triple-octave statement of the first theme, followed immediately by a fugue. The restoration of the two main themes fol- lows shortly thereafter, and a fantasy-like coda concludes. Beethoven’s second movement is a set of five variations on an original C-major Arietta mel- ody. An anonymous Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung reviewer criticized the variation tech- nique demonstrated in this piece: “The devic- es that the composer has seen fit to employ for the development of his beautiful material are Ludwig van Beethoven by Ferdinand Schimon (1818–19) so artificial that we find them quite unworthy of his great genius. In his use of this musi- cal technique, he is like a painter who uses a miniature brush and a single color to execute a whole altar-piece.” Admittedly, Beethoven does not produce the polychromatic vari- ations apparently sought by the Leipzig re- viewer. Instead, his approach concentrates on a subtler theme transformation and an overall accumulation of rhythmic impulse. Twice, in the fourth variation and in the final measures, Beethoven interrupts the rhythmic motion to isolate the theme’s distinctive dotted rhythm and downward leap. The movement—and the composer’s cycle of piano sonatas—closes with a tranquil C-major chord. FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797–1828) Piano Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960 By summer 1828, Schubert’s financial situa- tion reached a point of desperation, prompt- ing him to accept lodging in his brother Fer- dinand’s house, cancel a vacation in Graz, and compromise his professional integrity. Nego- tiations with foreign publishers (who had ap- proached him for works to publish) reflected his urgent need for income. Meanwhile, grave complications arising from his declining physical condition lurked just around the corner. In a last-ditch appeal, Schubert offered Leipzig publisher H.A. Probst several “proven successes”: “I am writing to inquire when the trio is going to be published. … I am looking forward to publication with great longing. I have also composed three sonatas for piano- forte which I propose dedicating to [pianist Johann Nepomuk] Hummel. Moreover, I have set to music several songs of Heine from Hamburg which met with great approval here. And, finally, I have composed a quintet for two violins, one viola, and two violoncel- los. I have played the sonatas at several places and always with success.” Lithograph of Franz Schubert by Josef Kriehuber (1846) Realizing the composer’s dire straits, Probst shrewdly bought the trio for one quarter of the asking price. Schubert reaped no ben- efits from the three accompanying piano sonatas (D. 958–960), which he introduced at a private gathering of friends on Septem- ber 27, 1828, at the home of Dr. Ignaz Menz. Six weeks later, Schubert died at the age of 31. These sonatas were first published post- humously in 1839 by Anton Diabelli; Robert Schumann, who guided the works into print, received the dedication. The legacy of Beethoven exerts itself in the sheer magnitude of these four-movement so- natas, although this expansion resulted from a characteristically Schubertian melodic profu- sion. The Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960, pays tangible homage to Schubert’s deceased Vien- nese colleague by simulating effects from the “Pathétique” sonata’s slow movement in the initial theme and from the “Appassionata” so- nata in a dramatic episode of the rondo finale. Song-like phrases, punctuated by bass-regis- ter trills, attest to Schubert’s preeminence as a composer of lieder. Similar lyricism pervades the contrasting theme, which modulates to F-sharp minor from B-flat major. This ef- fortless melodicism allows the remainder of the movement to unfold at a broad, lei- surely pace. The Andante sostenuto adopts a three-part song form. A soulful, melancholy theme—identified by the crossing of hands— envelops a majestic melody in major. The Scherzo maintains its professed delicacy ( Allegro vivace con delicatezza ) by alternating treble and bass phrases. A brief trio employs constant hemiola rhythms. The final move- ment is a rondo with three principal themes. The refrain begins with a sustained pitch, like the tolling of a bell. A single cascading line leads to a more casual theme. Schubert intro- duces a tumultuous, Beethovenian theme for further contrast. These three themes return a final time before a presto coda. –Program notes © 2021 Todd E. Sullivan RAVINIA.ORG • RAVINIA MAGAZINE 33