Composed during a rather unhappy period in Beethoven’s life, due to poor health and financial difficulties, this sonata, undoubtedly one of his major works, bears the imprint of both determination and sorrow. Its overall structure is rigorously classical, yet it incorporates the most perfected forms of the genre, elevating them into a grand architectural design that is, in itself, a work of art. Spiritually, the work faithfully reflects the varied and often conflicting moods of the composer at the time of its composition. Yet a higher inspiration tempers and harmonizes the whole.

The first and fundamental theme of the opening movement, originally intended for a cantata for Archduke Rudolf that was never written, presents itself as an impetuous command, whose hammering recalls that of the Great Fugue, Op. 133. In its second part, however, it flows with a smooth, almost sweet lyricism (see, for other examples of this contrast, the opening of the Sonata Op. 90 in E minor, also for piano, and the Quartet Op. 127 in E-flat major, particularly for a certain flowing affinity).

A highly developed transitional episode, in three distinct elements, leads to the second theme, also divided into three parts: the first derived from elements of the initial theme and the transitional episode; the second consisting of a phrase that becomes increasingly fluid in its motion; and the final part marked by a clear melodic line. A bright and cheerful cadenza closes the exposition.

The development begins with an extension of the final phrase of the exposition, followed by a fugue based on the first theme. After a brief reappearance of the final melody of the second theme, another fugal episode leads to the recapitulation, which unfolds with several variations from the exposition and is followed by a coda, in which the two principles—the terminal melodic line of the second theme and the initial rhythmic figure of the first—are again placed in contrast, ultimately resolving in a gradual diminution of the rhythmic element, fading away pianissimo.

The determined character of this first movement is succeeded by the imaginative page of the Scherzo, which develops in the first two sections from a short motif rhythmically derived from the impulse of the first movement’s initial theme. Its continuous insistence is, in itself, one of Beethoven’s characteristic gestures. “A whirling caprice of the spirit,” says Rolland, “in which fanfares of slightly hoarse and veiled horns respond like calls across the countryside.”

The Trio is more tranquil in character and unfolds in four symmetrical waves over a single phrase, moving from key to key, in major and minor, with developments in canon. An episode in Presto, beginning pianissimo and detached, is repeated three times in a continuously intensifying crescendo, followed by a kind of furious cadenza in Prestissimo that leads back to the first section, which, however, ultimately diverges from the model to conclude with inventive originality in form, tonal aspects, and dynamic shading.

The sketches of the fundamental elements of the Adagio sostenuto also date from the summer of 1818.

But the composer devoted himself to the composition and elaboration later: in the autumn at Mödling and in the early months of winter in Vienna. The first section expresses, in a restrained form, a desolate feeling into which the note of an alien sweetness from another melody is inserted twice, very close to what would later become the “Benedictus” of the Missa Solemnis. The first phrase recurs, gradually becoming more expressive, lyrically expanded, and richly ornamented.

A second fundamental element then arises: like a higher voice, calm, solemn, commanding, yet softened by a certain comforting gentleness, almost pastoral. Upon these two “principles” unfolds, with richness and variety of alternations, contrasts, and returns, the entire subsequent section, always in a warm atmosphere of spiritual passion; concluding in the slow fading together, in both the bass and treble, of the major chord notes, like a reconciliation achieved in a world of higher understanding and contemplation beyond all human disturbance.

The Largo that opens the fourth movement might be described as an improvisation or a grand cadenza, a relaxation after the gravity of the Adagio, and at the same time a kind of psychological-musical transition to the following fugue, as in the Finale of the Ninth Symphony, encompassing the entire instrumental section preceding the entry of the voices. Formal analyses and spiritual interpretations of the powerful fugue that follows, simultaneously joyful and determined, have been made by D’Indy, Busoni, and Rolland, who highlighted the varied character of the episodes, as well as the multiple artifices and ingenious devices.

At one point, an episode in D major appears like a prayer, again approaching the Missa Solemnis (Dona pacem) to come, interweaving with the main theme and giving rise to another powerful fugal section. The conclusion is made more energetic by the rhythmic drive of the last bars, corresponding to the general sense of “joy in strength” already expressed in the first movement.

According to Schering, the Sonata is inspired by Schiller’s Joan of Arc. In the first movement, corresponding to the Prologue, Scene IV, it reflects Joan’s first monologue, Farewell, mountains. The second movement, corresponding to Act IV, Scene I, represents her second monologue, first part, The arms repose. The third movement continues with the second part of the monologue, O sweet drone of the shepherd, I wish I had never exchanged you for the sword!. In the fourth movement, the Largo corresponds to Act IV, Scenes VI and VIII, in which Joan meets her sisters Margaret and Louise and then rushes out of the church. The Allegro fugue depicts Joan wandering, tormented by remorse, undergoing an inner struggle, culminating in her final liberation and victory.

 [By Biamonti Giovanni – Catalogo cronologico e tematico delle opere di Beethoven comprese quelle inedite e gli abbozzi non utilizzati, Torino, ILTE 1968]