The first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 14 for Piano, Op. 27, No. 2 (“Moonlight”) is quite certainly one of his most famous pieces, if not the most famous piece of “serious music,” rivaled perhaps only by the first movement of the composer’s Symphony No. 5. The fame of the “Moonlight” Sonata was established immediately and to such an extent that the composer expressed anxiety that the piece’s popularity would eclipse his other works. Nineteenth-century composers stood in awe of the Sonata’s opening movement. Hector Berlioz, for example, aptly wrote that the first movement “…is one of those poems that human language does not know how to qualify.” Carl Czerny purportedly likened the opening melody to the voice of a ghost sounding from the distance. And Frédéric Chopin must have had the Sonata’s tumultuous third movement in mind when composing the Allegro agitato of his well-known Fantaisie-Impromptu, Op. 66 of 1834. The fame and popularity of the piece have never waned.
Today, more than 200 years after the piece’s composition, the massive popularity of the “Moonlight” Sonata has not eclipsed Beethoven’s other works, as the composer feared, but certainly has detracted from the astounding novelties of the piece. Composed in 1801 on the threshold of Beethoven’s highly individualist second stylistic period, the piece comprises a variety of startling innovations that are scarcely to be found before and arguably would never be found again. Regrettably, the warhorse that the piece has become detracts us from these innovations, yet it is worth re-assessing its originality and the way that it has appealed to successive generations of listeners and performers. What follows is a discussion of four of the piece’s most remarkable innovations.
1. “Sonata quasi una fantasia”
Both of the Sonatas of Op. 27 are designated “Sonata quasi una fantasia,” a designation that Beethoven would use only in this instance. The term is generally translated as “sonata in the manner of a fantasy” but is perhaps more correctly translated as “sonata that is almost a fantasy.” The latter carries slightly different connotations, for it indicates that the elements of sonata form are the starting points and are modified to such an extent that they approach the free form of a fantasy. In Op. 27, No. 2, this can be understood in two ways. The first way applies to the schematic layout of the Sonata’s three movements. The piece opens with a slow movement (Adagio sostenuto), which is followed by a dance-like Allegretto and a concluding Presto agitato. The Sonata thus accelerates over the course of its three movements, with the dramatic weight thereby placed on the final movement. This is an unusual format for this time (fast-slow-fast is the norm), although a precedent may be found in Mozart’s Sonata for Piano, K. 282, whose three movements are similarly designed.
The second way applies more specifically and more importantly to the unorthodox layout of the first movement, and it is here that few, if any, precedents may be found. What makes this movement “almost a fantasy” is the complete absence of thematic contrast: The musical idea and character introduced in the opening measure are maintained for the remaining 68 measures of the piece. The movement is thus monothematic, and as a result the traditional divisions of the classical sonata (exposition, development, recapitulation) are obscured. The piece is more in the style of a baroque improvisatory prelude with touches of classical components, and it is significant that at the movement’s conclusion Beethoven provided the indication “attacca subito il seguente,” meaning no pause between the first and second movements.
Traces of sonata form may be found on the basis of tonal areas. For example, mm. 1–22 are an exposition, the second-theme group beginning at m. 10 with a brief modulation to the relative major (E major). Measure 23 marks the beginning of the development section, in which the opening theme is stated in the subdominant (F-sharp minor). Measures 28–41, the conclusion of the development, comprise a dramatically extensive dominant preparation for the recapitulation at m. 42. Twenty percent of this movement is devoted to this preparation, exemplifying, perhaps, Beethoven’s fondness for intensifying the drama of the recapitulation. The recapitulation at m. 42 is audibly the clearest division of the Sonata, thanks to this preparation and to the literal repetition of mm. 5–9 of the exposition. Measures 60–69, lastly, provide a coda to the movement, whose finality is expressed by three dominant-tonic progressions with the opening melody transferred to the left hand.
Beethoven clearly adopted eighteenth-century formal concepts in this movement, as he did in all of his works, but varied them to such a remarkably individual extent that no one could possibly duplicate them.
2. C-sharp minor
The key of the “Moonlight” Sonata, C-sharp minor, is an unusual key for the eighteenth century. Its key signature of four sharps demands an equal-tempered tuning system, for which reason few examples of pieces in this key may be found before 1770 (the pieces in the two books of Bach’s Well-tempered Keyboard being the obvious exceptions). Only two of Domenico Scarlatti’s 550 keyboard sonatas are in C-sharp minor (K. 246 and 247). Haydn wrote in C-sharp minor on one occasion in his Sonata for Piano No. 36 (according to the Hoboken numbering) composed at some point in the 1770s. Mozart resisted the challenge, and Beethoven used the key in only one other exceptional instance, the String Quartet Op. 131, perhaps the first non-keyboard piece composed in this key. As a result of a scarcity of examples, the key was unable to establish its own specific character at this time.
Why did Beethoven choose this key for this Sonata? Why did he not choose a more orthographically friendly key, such as C minor or D minor, both of which are often encountered with modern, “easy” piano arrangements of this movement? I have to believe that his choice of key was made primarily from considerations of keyboard technique; specifically, ease of performance for the fingers in the articulation of the melody in the opening movement. What C-sharp minor does for the pianist’s hands that few other keys (such as C and D minor) do is force them into a naturally elevated position above the keys, due to the layout of the black keys on the keyboard. An elevated position is immensely beneficial for the right-hand fingers to articulate clearly the repeated G-sharps of the melody in m. 5:
Today, more than 200 years after the piece’s composition, the massive popularity of the “Moonlight” Sonata has not eclipsed Beethoven’s other works, as the composer feared, but certainly has detracted from the astounding novelties of the piece. Composed in 1801 on the threshold of Beethoven’s highly individualist second stylistic period, the piece comprises a variety of startling innovations that are scarcely to be found before and arguably would never be found again. Regrettably, the warhorse that the piece has become detracts us from these innovations, yet it is worth re-assessing its originality and the way that it has appealed to successive generations of listeners and performers. What follows is a discussion of four of the piece’s most remarkable innovations.
1. “Sonata quasi una fantasia”
Both of the Sonatas of Op. 27 are designated “Sonata quasi una fantasia,” a designation that Beethoven would use only in this instance. The term is generally translated as “sonata in the manner of a fantasy” but is perhaps more correctly translated as “sonata that is almost a fantasy.” The latter carries slightly different connotations, for it indicates that the elements of sonata form are the starting points and are modified to such an extent that they approach the free form of a fantasy. In Op. 27, No. 2, this can be understood in two ways. The first way applies to the schematic layout of the Sonata’s three movements. The piece opens with a slow movement (Adagio sostenuto), which is followed by a dance-like Allegretto and a concluding Presto agitato. The Sonata thus accelerates over the course of its three movements, with the dramatic weight thereby placed on the final movement. This is an unusual format for this time (fast-slow-fast is the norm), although a precedent may be found in Mozart’s Sonata for Piano, K. 282, whose three movements are similarly designed.
The second way applies more specifically and more importantly to the unorthodox layout of the first movement, and it is here that few, if any, precedents may be found. What makes this movement “almost a fantasy” is the complete absence of thematic contrast: The musical idea and character introduced in the opening measure are maintained for the remaining 68 measures of the piece. The movement is thus monothematic, and as a result the traditional divisions of the classical sonata (exposition, development, recapitulation) are obscured. The piece is more in the style of a baroque improvisatory prelude with touches of classical components, and it is significant that at the movement’s conclusion Beethoven provided the indication “attacca subito il seguente,” meaning no pause between the first and second movements.
Traces of sonata form may be found on the basis of tonal areas. For example, mm. 1–22 are an exposition, the second-theme group beginning at m. 10 with a brief modulation to the relative major (E major). Measure 23 marks the beginning of the development section, in which the opening theme is stated in the subdominant (F-sharp minor). Measures 28–41, the conclusion of the development, comprise a dramatically extensive dominant preparation for the recapitulation at m. 42. Twenty percent of this movement is devoted to this preparation, exemplifying, perhaps, Beethoven’s fondness for intensifying the drama of the recapitulation. The recapitulation at m. 42 is audibly the clearest division of the Sonata, thanks to this preparation and to the literal repetition of mm. 5–9 of the exposition. Measures 60–69, lastly, provide a coda to the movement, whose finality is expressed by three dominant-tonic progressions with the opening melody transferred to the left hand.
Beethoven clearly adopted eighteenth-century formal concepts in this movement, as he did in all of his works, but varied them to such a remarkably individual extent that no one could possibly duplicate them.
2. C-sharp minor
The key of the “Moonlight” Sonata, C-sharp minor, is an unusual key for the eighteenth century. Its key signature of four sharps demands an equal-tempered tuning system, for which reason few examples of pieces in this key may be found before 1770 (the pieces in the two books of Bach’s Well-tempered Keyboard being the obvious exceptions). Only two of Domenico Scarlatti’s 550 keyboard sonatas are in C-sharp minor (K. 246 and 247). Haydn wrote in C-sharp minor on one occasion in his Sonata for Piano No. 36 (according to the Hoboken numbering) composed at some point in the 1770s. Mozart resisted the challenge, and Beethoven used the key in only one other exceptional instance, the String Quartet Op. 131, perhaps the first non-keyboard piece composed in this key. As a result of a scarcity of examples, the key was unable to establish its own specific character at this time.
Why did Beethoven choose this key for this Sonata? Why did he not choose a more orthographically friendly key, such as C minor or D minor, both of which are often encountered with modern, “easy” piano arrangements of this movement? I have to believe that his choice of key was made primarily from considerations of keyboard technique; specifically, ease of performance for the fingers in the articulation of the melody in the opening movement. What C-sharp minor does for the pianist’s hands that few other keys (such as C and D minor) do is force them into a naturally elevated position above the keys, due to the layout of the black keys on the keyboard. An elevated position is immensely beneficial for the right-hand fingers to articulate clearly the repeated G-sharps of the melody in m. 5:
The deceptively challenging repetition of the G-sharp in the right-hand melody, with alternating fourth and fifth fingers, can be more easily executed if the hand is elevated above the keys. C-sharp minor forces the hand into an elevated position and allows suppleness of the wrist, which is less the case if the piece had been notated in C minor:
The hand, now withdrawn from the black keys, is no longer naturally elevated, and the fourth and fifth fingers of the right hand may well experience some awkwardness (and tension) on the repeated Gs in the melody. Note also the drastic difference in sound of the left-hand chords in the third measure of these examples, separated merely by a semitone.
Beethoven’s choice of key in this Sonata is a remarkably shrewd consideration for piano technique, perhaps no surprise given his virtuoso abilities as a pianist (and, of course, the key, once established for the opening movement, would have to be maintained for the entire Sonata). The key may have lacked a character prior to 1800, but surely this Sonata, intentional or not, did much to establish one that proved to be deeply appealing to nineteenth-century composers.
3. Triplets versus Dotted-eighth/sixteenth Notes
Various performances and recordings of this piece show that there is no universal agreement on the execution of the melody that is introduced in m. 5. The misinterpretation stems from the correct interpretation of dotted-eighth/sixteenth notes in the context of triplet notes; specifically, where does the placement of the sixteenth note occur? According to the baroque tradition of note inequality, the sixteenth note would, in effect, be “absorbed” into the triplet pattern: “Duple notes set against triplets in baroque music are not meant for cross rhythms; they are meant to accommodate themselves to or to be accommodated by the rhythm of the triplet.” (Robert Donington, The Interpretation of Early Music, p. 464). Thus, the following example, the opening of the Courante from Bach’s Partita No. 1 in B-flat Major:
Beethoven’s choice of key in this Sonata is a remarkably shrewd consideration for piano technique, perhaps no surprise given his virtuoso abilities as a pianist (and, of course, the key, once established for the opening movement, would have to be maintained for the entire Sonata). The key may have lacked a character prior to 1800, but surely this Sonata, intentional or not, did much to establish one that proved to be deeply appealing to nineteenth-century composers.
3. Triplets versus Dotted-eighth/sixteenth Notes
Various performances and recordings of this piece show that there is no universal agreement on the execution of the melody that is introduced in m. 5. The misinterpretation stems from the correct interpretation of dotted-eighth/sixteenth notes in the context of triplet notes; specifically, where does the placement of the sixteenth note occur? According to the baroque tradition of note inequality, the sixteenth note would, in effect, be “absorbed” into the triplet pattern: “Duple notes set against triplets in baroque music are not meant for cross rhythms; they are meant to accommodate themselves to or to be accommodated by the rhythm of the triplet.” (Robert Donington, The Interpretation of Early Music, p. 464). Thus, the following example, the opening of the Courante from Bach’s Partita No. 1 in B-flat Major:
should be performed as:
Bach’s original notation can be somewhat perplexing, even misleading, to modern performers, but we must understand that there was no means at the time for notating according to the second example (and, of course, a courante in 9/8 would be unthinkable). Beethoven was educated according to the baroque tradition, and if this tradition is applied to the opening of the “Moonlight” Sonata, then the rhythm should be executed as:
This is entirely unsatisfactory musically. It simply sounds incorrect and surely must be. If the sixteenth note is indeed to be absorbed into the triplets, then a more reasonable execution would be:
This is the most common interpretation of this passage today.
This, however, could not have been the composer’s true intent. Had he wanted this passage to be interpreted thusly, he could have notated it more precisely in 12/8:
This, however, could not have been the composer’s true intent. Had he wanted this passage to be interpreted thusly, he could have notated it more precisely in 12/8:
The entire movement, in fact, could be notated in 12/8 without any detriment to the notational logic, and this is exactly what Beethoven did in the second movement of his Symphony No. 6 (this example is taken from the piano arrangement prepared by Franz Liszt):
In the first movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata, however, the half note is the unit, and it is most likely the case that Beethoven intended for a cross rhythm (4:3) in this instance, a striking subtlety that produces a momentary point of tension. It likewise sets the melody in relief over the ubiquitous triplet-note accompaniment (provided that no interruption or hesitation is made in the execution of the triplets) in a way that could not be realized if the passage had been notated in 12/8.
Carl Czerny, who had the great honor of studying with Beethoven, stipulated on p. 89 of his Piano-Schule, Op. 500 of 1839 that such a passage should be executed exactly as notated; that is, as a cross rhythm with the sixteenth note after the third triplet note. And in 1802, Daniel Türk observed that, “Two against three is a beauty to which we have to grow accustomed.” (Donington, p. 478).
4. The Damper Pedal
The damper pedal on the piano followed a slow evolutionary progress in the eighteenth century. The pedal as we know it today came into being only in the late 1790s, decades after the invention of the piano and just prior to the composition of this Sonata. Because of the relatively late arrival of the pedal, its use in the eighteenth century is more an exception than the rule that it would become in the nineteenth century. Thus, the infrequent specifications for pedal before 1800 seem to be requests for a momentary and dramatic contrast in musical timbre and texture, rather than a means for enriching the piano sonority; meaning, pedal should otherwise be used sparingly. Such is the case in two instances in the first movement of Haydn’s Sonata in C Major No. 50 of 1794, one of the earliest instances of a specification of the damper pedal, in which the composer indicates the pedal to blur changes in harmony. Undoubtedly, eighteenth-century listeners would have been quite startled by this effect.
Beethoven must have been familiar with Haydn’s sonata, for he incorporated the same technique, though somewhat differently, in the first movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata. Above the opening measure, he specified “Si deve suonare tutto questo pezzo delicatissimamente e senza sordini” (The entire piece should be played with the greatest delicacy and without mutes), followed by the indication between the staves “semper [sic] pp e senza sordini.” “Senza sordini” is an instruction to the performer to play the instrument “without mutes,” that is with the dampers raised off of the strings; that Beethoven stated it twice is testimony to its importance (Debussy made a similar specification in his Clair de lune, although this probably refers to the una corda pedal). Any pianist familiar with this piece would regard this statement as self-evident, since a generous amount of pedal would have to be used to realize the correct musical effect, but its indication was quite necessary at the time.
However, musicians disagree on Beethoven’s exact intent. Charles Rosen, for example, interprets this instruction to mean that the pedal should be depressed one time and one time only for the duration of the entire movement:
In short, the pedaled sound is still a special effect for Beethoven as it was for Haydn, and he used it above all for contrast. The first movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata is perhaps the only exception in his work, a unique essay in tone color: here he wanted the entire piece to be played with pedal, to be played, in fact, delicately and pianissimo without ever changing the pedal, that is, without lowering the dampers to the strings. (Charles Rosen, Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas: A Short Companion, p. 108)
Performers today rarely follow this directive in this way; imagine the massive blur created by a damper pedal depressed constantly for approximately four minutes on a modern piano. The problem is that such an immense wash of sound will obscure many of the fine subtleties in the piece (such as the magnificent harmonic changes and the extended dominant preparation in mm. 28–41), even on an eighteenth-century instrument. Moreover, while the damper pedal is clearly requested, there is nothing in the composer’s wording that suggests that the pedal should be used without change. The qualifier “sempre” (or “semper”) in the second instruction certainly applies to pp, but not necessarily to “senza sordini.” If perhaps it does, then “sempre senza sordini” could represent an instruction to use pedal throughout the movement, rather than occasionally, though not necessarily without change. Also, does “tutto questo pezzo” mean that this instruction applies to all three movements or just the first (presumably the first)? Unfortunately, the first page of the composer’s manuscript is lost, thereby denying any opportunity to verify his exact wording.
However, it should be agreed that this movement is “a unique essay in tone color,” one that was never duplicated, even when Beethoven employed the same effect, though on a smaller scale, in the third movement of the Sonata Op. 53 (“Waldstein”). One can envision Beethoven seated at his piano, experimenting with the newly designed damper pedal and utterly entranced by the wondrous sonic world that opened up to him.
I can only imagine how marvelously original this piece must have sounded at its first performance. But rather than baffle or bewilder, as is often the case when listeners are presented with musical novelties, these four remarkable innovations, as well as a few others, only contributed to the piece’s astounding fame and popularity that continue unabated even in our drastically different modern times.
Carl Czerny, who had the great honor of studying with Beethoven, stipulated on p. 89 of his Piano-Schule, Op. 500 of 1839 that such a passage should be executed exactly as notated; that is, as a cross rhythm with the sixteenth note after the third triplet note. And in 1802, Daniel Türk observed that, “Two against three is a beauty to which we have to grow accustomed.” (Donington, p. 478).
4. The Damper Pedal
The damper pedal on the piano followed a slow evolutionary progress in the eighteenth century. The pedal as we know it today came into being only in the late 1790s, decades after the invention of the piano and just prior to the composition of this Sonata. Because of the relatively late arrival of the pedal, its use in the eighteenth century is more an exception than the rule that it would become in the nineteenth century. Thus, the infrequent specifications for pedal before 1800 seem to be requests for a momentary and dramatic contrast in musical timbre and texture, rather than a means for enriching the piano sonority; meaning, pedal should otherwise be used sparingly. Such is the case in two instances in the first movement of Haydn’s Sonata in C Major No. 50 of 1794, one of the earliest instances of a specification of the damper pedal, in which the composer indicates the pedal to blur changes in harmony. Undoubtedly, eighteenth-century listeners would have been quite startled by this effect.
Beethoven must have been familiar with Haydn’s sonata, for he incorporated the same technique, though somewhat differently, in the first movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata. Above the opening measure, he specified “Si deve suonare tutto questo pezzo delicatissimamente e senza sordini” (The entire piece should be played with the greatest delicacy and without mutes), followed by the indication between the staves “semper [sic] pp e senza sordini.” “Senza sordini” is an instruction to the performer to play the instrument “without mutes,” that is with the dampers raised off of the strings; that Beethoven stated it twice is testimony to its importance (Debussy made a similar specification in his Clair de lune, although this probably refers to the una corda pedal). Any pianist familiar with this piece would regard this statement as self-evident, since a generous amount of pedal would have to be used to realize the correct musical effect, but its indication was quite necessary at the time.
However, musicians disagree on Beethoven’s exact intent. Charles Rosen, for example, interprets this instruction to mean that the pedal should be depressed one time and one time only for the duration of the entire movement:
In short, the pedaled sound is still a special effect for Beethoven as it was for Haydn, and he used it above all for contrast. The first movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata is perhaps the only exception in his work, a unique essay in tone color: here he wanted the entire piece to be played with pedal, to be played, in fact, delicately and pianissimo without ever changing the pedal, that is, without lowering the dampers to the strings. (Charles Rosen, Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas: A Short Companion, p. 108)
Performers today rarely follow this directive in this way; imagine the massive blur created by a damper pedal depressed constantly for approximately four minutes on a modern piano. The problem is that such an immense wash of sound will obscure many of the fine subtleties in the piece (such as the magnificent harmonic changes and the extended dominant preparation in mm. 28–41), even on an eighteenth-century instrument. Moreover, while the damper pedal is clearly requested, there is nothing in the composer’s wording that suggests that the pedal should be used without change. The qualifier “sempre” (or “semper”) in the second instruction certainly applies to pp, but not necessarily to “senza sordini.” If perhaps it does, then “sempre senza sordini” could represent an instruction to use pedal throughout the movement, rather than occasionally, though not necessarily without change. Also, does “tutto questo pezzo” mean that this instruction applies to all three movements or just the first (presumably the first)? Unfortunately, the first page of the composer’s manuscript is lost, thereby denying any opportunity to verify his exact wording.
However, it should be agreed that this movement is “a unique essay in tone color,” one that was never duplicated, even when Beethoven employed the same effect, though on a smaller scale, in the third movement of the Sonata Op. 53 (“Waldstein”). One can envision Beethoven seated at his piano, experimenting with the newly designed damper pedal and utterly entranced by the wondrous sonic world that opened up to him.
I can only imagine how marvelously original this piece must have sounded at its first performance. But rather than baffle or bewilder, as is often the case when listeners are presented with musical novelties, these four remarkable innovations, as well as a few others, only contributed to the piece’s astounding fame and popularity that continue unabated even in our drastically different modern times.
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