We finally reach the conclusion of the journey. The last three sonatas were neither the last piano pieces Beethoven would write - he followed them with the Diabelli Variations, Op. 120 and the 6 Bagatelles, Op. 126 - nor were they his final works in the sonata form - those would be the late string quartets. But after Op. 111 Beethoven’s path did not lead him back to the piano sonata genre. In strong contrast to the Hammerklavier, where the bulging, straining creative muscles are evident in every note, the last three sound like an uninhibited stream of inspiration, captured mid-flow by Beethoven and shaped and moulded by him until they appear to us as near-miraculous acts of effortless creation. Whereas the Hammerklavier feels probing, exploring, challenging, the last three are completely at ease with themselves, reflecting not the struggles of a creative genius trying to unfetter himself from all convention, but the poetic utterances of a composer who has gone so far ahead of us that one cannot but feel awe facing these inimitable musical worlds, and gratitude at having been granted access to them.
Much unites the three sonatas, besides the overall sense of transcendence suffusing the music. Structurally, they all lead towards their respective finales. All three incorporate large vocally-imagined movements or episodes - a ‘song with the most heartfelt emotion’ in Op. 109, a ‘lamenting arioso’ in Op. 110, and the simply named ‘Arietta’ as the magnificent theme of Op. 111’s finale. All three are also obsessed with polyphonic writing - a growing interest of Beethoven in his late years. It’s most overt in Op. 110, which contains two fully fledged fugues in its finale, but polyphonic sections abound in both Opp. 109 and 111 as well.
In terms of sound, Beethoven, who was almost completely deaf by that time, filled these sonatas with some of the most striking and memorable soundscapes he has ever created for the keyboard. His writing shows exquisite attention to colour and register throughout; and even the voicing and registration of the simple opening chords of Op. 110, or of the last movements of Opp. 109 and 111, have great impact, eliciting an immediate emotional response - the embracing warmth in Op. 110, the oil painting-like richness in Op. 109 and the pure, serene stillness in Op. 111.
The finale of Op. 110 is a unique form, which opens with an entire operatic scene: a hushed introduction, leading to a touching recitativo (which includes the aforementioned 28 pleading A notes), followed in turn by a tragic, lamenting arioso. Its final notes resigned, accepting of its fate, lead into a full three-voice fugue in A flat major. Its theme - a sequence of rising fourths - is serene and even slightly distant: a universal answer to the intimate pain of the arioso. This mixture of operatic and academic, of heart and mind, of the highly personal with the nearly impersonal, would be unusual in itself, but Beethoven develops this idea even further.
The fugue does become more impassioned as it progresses, and at the climax, the music gets suspended on a dominant seventh chord, after
which it sinks into the weariest of G minors, draining life and colour in a heartbeat - a powerful dramatic effect. Then comes a completely unexpected repeat of the arioso in this new key, though now its line is
halting, filled with pauses, as if overcome by grief, more personal than ever. Its final chord is G major, which Beethoven first writes very softly, as if hardly believing that any light could come out of such darkness. He then repeats the G major chord ten times with growing affirmation (a startling effect - almost a moment of hypnotic trance during the performance),
out of which, as if through a lifting haze, the outline of another fugue appears.
This new fugue is based on the same theme as the first one, but in inversion. Its narrative function is completely different; it depicts a gradual influx of light and life into the music as it grows faster and faster. This effect is intensified by Beethoven’s use both of single and double diminution (the motif becoming twice, and then four times faster), and augmentation (the motif becoming twice slower) - which, overlaid with each other, lends a sense of great speed to what previously was a stately flow of quavers. All this leads the music back into the home key of A flat major, joined with a triumphant return of the original fugue’s theme. No longer impersonal,
it is a joyous celebration, finishing the movement with unstoppable drive and affirmation.
***
Beethoven 32 - Over the course of 2020, I have learned and filmed all 32 Beethoven sonatas. Subscribe to this channel or visit beethoven32.com to follow the project.
Boris Giltburg, piano
Filmed by Stewart French
© 2021 Fly On The Wall, London
‪@FazioliPianos‬