(MUSIC) So, having unpacked that monster of a movement, we come to the much simpler pleasures of the second movement. This movement is in every way more modest than the first – in fact, the second and third movements combined take only a few seconds longer to play than the first does on its own. That in itself is no proof that this music is modest, or not revolutionary – the first two movements of opus 109, combined, are only about 6 minutes long, and no one could listen to them and fail to find them rich with substance and invention. But the slow movement of the Pathetique is not just short-ish: it’s both serene and un-radical – as opposed to the first movement, it doesn’t aim to start any revolutions. Nevertheless, it is, for good reason, probably the most famous part of this altogether famous piece, and only partially because Karl Haas rammed it into his listeners’ heads over a period of decades. No, the main reason for its renown is its uncommon beauty. (MUSIC) As I’ve mentioned previously, somewhere along the line, Beethoven developed the reputation for being uninterested in – and untalented for – melody. Perhaps it’s because he was able to write music of such immediate, emotional power without much to speak of in the way of melody. Take the justly celebrated second movement of the 7th symphony, which the composer John Corigliano once called the first ever minimalist piece of music. (MUSIC) Remove the harmony, and here’s what you are left with. (MUSIC) This movement builds to a tremendous, and tremendously affecting, climax without ever including a proper “melody” – melody defined, here, as something that you might conceivably want to sing. I’ve pointed out a similar phenomenon in the second movement of the Appassionata. Stripped of its chordal progression, we’re left with (MUSIC). And the opening of the “Moonlight” is no great shakes either, on those terms (MUSIC). The element of rigor is so dominant in Beethoven’s music, it may be fair to say that it doesn’t always leave room for more sensuous pleasures. And yet! One need only listen to the opening of the Pathetique’s slow movement to know that Beethoven was, when he wanted to be, a GREAT melodist. Think of the composers most renowned for their lyrical gift – Schubert, Chopin. This melody would be a great credit to any of them. Why is it so beautiful? This is a notoriously difficult subject to talk about. No aspect of music is more mysterious than the question of why a certain sequence of notes can be so wistful, or haunting, or uplifting, as the case may be. So I won’t overanalyze it. But I will say that one of this melody’s winning features is that it manages to be beautifully balanced without being so symmetrical that it becomes predictable. Its first half is all about melodic rise. First there is the rise of a fourth (MUSIC), and then a bigger, albeit gradual rise – a seventh this time. (MUSIC) The second half, by contrast, features a series of three falling fifths, the first perfect (MUSIC), and the second two diminished: (MUSIC) But whereas the first half features just two, clearly delineated upward intervals (MUSIC), the second half has three downward ones, which follow one another in immediate succession, creating a kind of down-up-down-up zigzag. (MUSIC) So, the theme has the logic of a question being followed by an answer, without ever developing a stultifying regularity. The other aspect of this theme which I can confidently say contributes to its magic is how seamless it is. I’ve spoken of two halves of the theme, one (MUSIC), and two (MUSIC). But there is no break at all between the two halves. On the contrary, Beethoven connects the end of the first half to the beginning of the second with a slur (MUSIC). The poetry of a rise being answered by a fall gives the phrase a two-part shape, but that slurring makes it clear that Beethoven conceived of it as one continuous unit. This is bolstered by the start-to-finish, gently undulating accompaniment Beethoven gives it (MUSIC), ensuring that despite all of its hills and valleys, the line continues to spin all the way through. It’s quite a trick, really. As I’ve said about a thousand times, the first movement of the Pathetique is forward-looking and influential; not only is the second movement far more traditional, it actually looks back in quite a literal sense. This opening theme is unusually closely derived from Mozart – from the central episode of the slow movement of his C minor sonata, K457. Mozart - (MUSIC), and Beethoven (MUSIC). The combination of the key, the tempo, and the notes themselves means this cannot be coincidence – this is, if not an homage, certainly a case of Beethoven taking inspiration from Mozart. And what’s interesting is, if one goes by stereotype, the Mozart is much more “Beethovenian”, whereas the Beethoven sounds just a little bit like Mozart. In the Mozart, a crescendo over the moving notes, followed by an abrupt subito piano, (MUSIC) these give the music a determined, even driven aspect. In fact, the entire sonata has a quite Beethovenian sense of propulsion, and of struggle. Beethoven’s theme, by contrast, is remarkably serene -- not for nothing did I use the word “seamless”. Beethoven probably loved the Mozart C minor sonata altogether, but what he took from it he transformed entirely, and in a surprising way.
