[music] Before moving on to the second movement, I want to return to the question of this work’s influence. As we saw, the first movement resembles the Mendelssohn E major Sonata in way that is very pronounced, but also superficial. Its connection to Schumann is much less obvious, but ultimately much more profound. One of Schumann’s largest and greatest solo piano works, the C major Fantasy, was conceived as an homage to Beethoven, and its first movement – despite being three times the length of Opus 101’s – also avoids its home key, C major in this case, until its very last moments. The sense of delayed gratification is still more remarkable in the Schumann, because in this case it is not only harmonic, but motivic. The opening of the Fantasy’s first movement presents the movement’s main idea in a wild, amorphous way. [music] This idea comes again in iteration after iteration, and each time it becomes a bit more in focus, with this [music] then turning into this [music], and then this [music], and then this [music], and then finally this, the theme's purest version – and finally in C major – in the coda. [music] The idea of delaying the harmonic arrival [music] that comes right out of Opus 101, but this thing of withholding the proper theme does not. So why am I banging on about it? Because that theme? [music] It’s by Beethoven. It's the opening of the last song of An die Ferne Geliebte. [music] The text is “Nimm sie hin den, diese lieder/ die ich dir, Geliebte, sang.” "Take these songs that I sang to you, beloved.” Schumann’s tribute to Beethoven is both literal – borrowing his theme – and not – taking Opus 101’s harmonic plan and refashioning it into something totally original; it is profound, sophisticated, and moving. This is a slightly extreme example, which hopefully illustrates the extent to which the romantic composers were in Beethoven’s debt, and often in his shadow. So, onto the second movement, in which Beethoven immediately – and completely – drops the hesitation and ambiguity that were the hallmarks of the opening movement. The two movements are remarkably dissimilar -- the only thing they share, really, is the fact that they both helped inspire the Schumann Fantasy. This time, the link to the Schumann is an obvious one: the second movements of both works are marches. Putting a march in the middle of a piano sonata is a bold and surprising choice: it wasn’t something Beethoven had done previously. The String Quartet Opus 132 has a march in it, but I can't readily think of any work written prior to Opus 101 that contains one. The Sonata Opus 26, which we covered in the “New Paths” lecture, it has a funeral march, but that is a very different kettle of fish. This inclusion of a brand new type of movement is a further demonstration of Opus 101’s unique shape. Now the new element here is not really structural – the march fills the same role that a menuet or a scherzo might have; the relative length of the sections, the location of the repeats, the inclusion of a central, contrasting trio – these all make it clear that the march is standing in for a menuet or scherzo. No, what’s new here is the character. Menuets are, by and large, courtly pieces: dances. And "scherzo” is Italian for “joke,” and accordingly, Beethoven scherzos are generally filled with humor. But the march in Opus 101 is neither courtly nor funny: it is vigorous and brash. It doesn't inspire laughter, and no one would think to dance to it – and anyway it has 4 beats to the bar, rather than the menuet’s 3. And while it is shaped like a menuet or scherzo, its role in the larger context of the sonata is a different one. Whereas menuets and scherzos are almost invariably the shortest movements in a sonata (or string quartet or symphony, or whatever the piece in question is), this march is actually a fair bit longer than the first movement, which was a sonata allegro, no matter how halting or how stripped down. And the march may be emotionally lighter than the first movement, but in sonority, it’s quite the opposite – whereas the first movement often seems to be floating, in the march one feels the force of gravity very strongly, all the way through; this is strong, assertive music. With this movement, the scope of the piece begins to expand. So, here is the march’s opening. [music] It has all the harmonic certainty that the first movement lacks. Already, with that opening chord, we have a landing, an announcement of a key [music] – the rather distant F major, as it happens. In the entirety of the first movement, there is no moment in which a key, any key, is established with such certainty and force. To me, these opening chords always sound like Beethoven saying “Snap out of it!” after the reveries of the first movement. In addition to the harmonic stability – or, rather, harmonic solidity – the other area in which this movement is so strikingly different from the preceding one is, again, its sonority. It is defiantly hard-edged, rather than soft-grained. In fact, there are moments at which it verges on ugliness. Certainly, beauty is not on Beethoven’s agenda here. The voice leading is often gnarled, thorny, and that is the source of much of the music’s character. [music] Those half-steps [music], they give the music a toughness which add a great deal to its character. When you hear the word “march,” you most likely imagine something very simple, or even simplistic – forceful, proud, and probably not much else. Beethoven’s March has far more contrapuntal complexity than that, and therefore more emotional complexity. But “pretty” it isn’t. After that very brief opening section, we get this [music]. That A major octave [music] arrives like a thunderclap. The presence of A major in this movement isn’t particularly surprising – it is the mediant of F major, after all. [music] But Beethoven marks it fortissimo – the first fortissimo in the movement – and then adds a strong forte piano accent to it. The “forte piano” means that after the accent, we drop immediately down to piano. [music] The message is: we are not to miss it. I am convinced that this is less about what the moment means in the context of the movement, and more about what it means in the context of the work at large: It may be in the wrong movement, but this is the sonata’s first real affirmation of its home key, A major. Bit by bit, the piece is coming into focus. The other thing that is coming into focus here is the contrapuntal essence of the work. There were certainly hints of it in the first movement. [music] But it really kicks up a gear in this movement. While it isn't actually fugal, at any given moment, there are at least two fully-fledged voices interacting, and sometimes battling. [music] Given that counterpoint is going to become absolutely central in the coming movement, this represents an important development. Just as the length and scope of the movements is steadily increasing, so too is the emphasis on the interaction of the voices. However moving and inventive the first movement is, it’s as if the piece finds its essence only gradually.
