Piano Sonata in E, Op. 109

The Opus 102 Cello Sonatas mark the transition in Beethoven’s psyche from romantic to paternal longing. When the affair with Antonie Brentano (his mysterious “Immortal Beloved”) ended in 1812, he finally accepted bachelorhood as his station in life. The next eight years largely centered on Beethoven’s protracted court battle to take custody of his nephew Karl. This action shows Beethoven in an unfavorable light, as he ignored the wishes of his brother’s final will and crusaded against the moral character of Karl’s mother. Eventually Beethoven had to call in favors from powerful friends to achieve a Pyrrhic victory in 1820. The accompanying musical breakthrough followed almost immediately. Within months of winning the custody battle, he completed the profound Sonata in E Major, Op. 109. A deeper poignancy is that Beethoven fondly dedicated the Sonata to Maximiliane Brentano, daughter of his “Immortal Beloved.”
Evidence shows that the opening movement of Opus 109 started life as a bagatelle. (Beethoven had been approached in the spring of 1820 to publish such pieces for a piano anthology.) The Vivace theme offers a fetching lyricism in which one would gladly revel. These arpeggiated chords mimic the harmonic sequence of Pachelbel’s famous Canon—the first of several retrospective tendencies expressed in Op. 109. On first pass the main theme sounds too delicate to survive, and indeed Beethoven cuts it off after just eight measures on a dissonant high A-sharp. The dissonant note’s promise, which seeks upward resolution to B, is denied momentarily. Instead the line turns downward to A-natural, initiating the striking seven measures marked Adagio espressivo but which the composer fittingly referred to as a “Fantasie” section in his sketches. The Fantasy’s virtuosic cascades and thick harmonies highlight—by way of contrast—the lyricism of the main theme, which soon reappears. In fact, the theme picks up exactly where it left off seven measures prior, resolving the high A-sharp upward to B and continuing with renewed energy. After reaching an ecstatic highpoint, the theme is once again dismantled by the Fantasy material. A gentle coda allows the lyric element to have the final word while also hinting at the chordal theme of the finale to come.
Before that finale, however, Beethoven inserts an impulsive Prestissimo section in E minor. It is not indicated as a distinct movement, but its rhythmic verve, minor mode, and modest counterpoint clearly distinguish it from the preceding Vivace. Its brevity, too, aptly diverts our attention only for a moment from the engrossing finale, a grand theme and variations movement.
Earlier in his career Beethoven had composed dazzling variation sets, but the technique found a new home in the late works. Instead of bravura displays, the late variations undertake emotional journeys. Opus 109’s theme, like that in the Piano Sonata Op. 111, undergoes more transfiguration than variation and shifts the work’s expressive focus to the end rather than the beginning. The theme itself includes a touch of Sarabande-like gravitas; you may note the accents on the second beat in this triple meter. Variation 1 opens with a beautiful octave leap, thrice repeated during the opening phrase. The leap embodies the music’s blossoming hopes, literally creating pitch space that the variations can subsequently fill. Variation 2 recalls the texture of the first movement with increased motion striking a balance between sounding antique and pointillist. Variation 3 grows increasingly animated, taking its aesthetic and contrapuntal manner straight from Bach’s two-part Inventions. Variations 4 and 5 continue the evolution of counterpoint. The main theme then reappears (Var. 6) but is quickly subjected to increasingly active ornamentation, culminating in vibrant trills. At the last moment Beethoven reverts to the original theme in its unadorned beauty and solemnity. We may be reminded of the powerful close to Bach’s Goldberg Variations. I think Beethoven would have welcomed such a spiritual kinship.

(c) Jason Stell