Biamonti 726 – Melody written in the first half of May 1820

The musical examples on this page are by Graziano Denini.

 Biamonti 726 – Melody written in the first half of May 1820

Noted in a conversation book (ILTE notebook, page 603, folio 23 verso), unfortunately without further indications. This magnificent melody appears immediately after some phrases written by Oliva, and then:

Beethoven: “The entire 3rd floor on the bastions near the Staatskanzlisten will remain free for the feast of Saint Michael.”

125 fl e 30 kr.
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209.      10kr.

Then follows this melody.

Commentary by Mark Zimmer: “This little dance melody was jotted down by Beethoven in one of his conversation books while his friend and financial helper Franz Oliva was writing out some pension receipts on the evening of May 4, 1820.

The editor of the English edition of the Conversation Books, Ted Albrecht, at vol. II p.203, footnote 60, notes that this melody might be related to the doubtful so-called “11 Mödlinger Dances” WoO 17, which Beethoven supposedly composed for an ensemble playing at the Three Ravens in near Mödling the previous summer. On May 4, 1820, Beethoven was preparing to spend the summer in Mödling once again. Albrecht suggests that this might represent a previously-unknown 12th Mödlinger Dance to present to the ensemble when he saw them again. This lends some credence to the notion that WoO 17 may indeed be a genuine Beethoven composition.

If that connection is correct, the small ensemble that the Mödlinger Dances are set for consists of two clarinets, two horns, two violins and bass. Typically the melody of these dances is either in the clarinets or the violins; for this sound file we’ve used the violin”.

Biamonti 726 is part of the Research Becomes Art project

A New Life for the Unknown Works of Ludwig van Beethoven: An Artistic Exploration by Duo Cicnu: Roberta Piras (flute) and Graziano Denini (cello)

In 2012, during a conversation with cellist Graziano Denini about this theme, he noted that—with a slight transposition of one note—it lent itself very well to being developed canonically. From that moment until its resolution, the musician’s mind was occupied with deriving a sonata for flute and cello, which we present in WP on this site.

The sonata consists of three movements, whose development recalls the three duets of WoO 27.

The site www.lvbeethoven.it is honored to present the sonata on its pages. Moreover, to Graziano Denini and Roberta Piras go our most affectionate thanks for the honor they have given us. We are certain that the sonata will become a staple in the listening repertoire of our internet friends.

The sonata is a modern reconstruction: Graziano Denini (cello) and Roberta Piras (flute) took Beethoven’s tiny melodic jotting (Biamonti 726, May 1820) and expanded it into a three‑movement duo. Their model was Beethoven’s own Duos for clarinet and bassoon, WoO 27, which are witty, contrapuntal, and conversational. The result is not a forgery but a creative continuation: a respectful act of “what if Beethoven had developed this sketch into a chamber sonata?”

I. Allegro (Canon on the Sketch)

The opening theme is Beethoven’s jotting, slightly adjusted to allow canonic treatment. Texture: The flute and cello chase each other in strict canon, sometimes at the unison, sometimes at the octave. Character: Bright, playful, and almost “learned” in its contrapuntal wit — very much in the spirit of Beethoven’s early duos. Commentary: This movement shows how a single melodic cell can generate a full sonata‑form Allegro. The canon is not dry but lively, with rhythmic drive and dialogue.

II. Adagio (Lyrical Interlude)

A lyrical slow movement, giving contrast after the contrapuntal brilliance of the first.  The flute sings long, expressive lines while the cello provides a warm, sustained counter‑voice. Reminiscent of the slow movements in his early serenades and duos, where intimacy and cantabile prevail.  Here Denini and Piras show restraint — instead of over‑developing, they let the fragment breathe, creating a space of lyrical repose.

III. Allegro giocoso (Finale)

A lively rondo‑like finale, with recurring playful themes.  The flute often leads with sparkling figures, while the cello alternates between bass support and witty retorts. Dance‑like, almost rustic, recalling Beethoven’s fondness for folkish finales. The finale ties the sonata together with a sense of joyful closure, transforming the modest sketch into a full chamber work.

This sonata demonstrates how Beethoven’s smallest sketches can inspire performable works without falsifying his voice. Denini and Piras act less as “composers” and more as editors‑interpreters, extending Beethoven’s idea with stylistic fidelity. It also highlights the fertility of Beethoven’s imagination: even a fragment can suggest entire movements when treated with care.

Biamonti 726 is part of the Research Becomes Art project

A New Life for the Unknown Works of Ludwig van Beethoven: An Artistic Exploration by Gerd Prengel

The source is Beethoven’s 16‑bar melodic sketch from May 1820 (Biamonti 726), written among the drafts for the E‑major Sonata op. 109. Prengel, a German composer deeply engaged with Beethoven’s fragments, chose to treat this sketch not as a seed for a sonata (as Denini did) but as the basis for a slow, elegiac orchestral meditation. He first conceived it as an “Elegy” for strings, later refining the sound with improved playback (MuseScore 4 strings).

The melody enters in the strings, clothed in a soft, sustained texture. Prengel emphasizes the melancholic contour of Beethoven’s line, stretching it into long phrases that feel timeless. The orchestration is deliberately restrained: muted strings, slow harmonic rhythm, creating a sense of suspended grief. The theme is varied and expanded, with subtle counter‑voices in the inner strings. Harmonic color deepens: Prengel introduces darker minor inflections, heightening the elegiac mood. There is a sense of dialogue between first violins and lower strings, almost like a lament answered by a consoling voice.

The texture thickens, dynamics swell, and the melody reaches a passionate outcry. This is not Beethoven’s voice per se, but Prengel’s sensitive attempt to imagine how such a fragment might blossom emotionally. The climax is brief, quickly subsiding into resignation. The music returns to quiet simplicity, the theme dissolving into soft pizzicati and fading chords. The effect is one of gentle farewell, as if the fragment itself were being laid to rest.

Unlike Denini’s sonata (which is playful, contrapuntal, and “Beethovenian” in craft), Prengel’s Elegy is introspective and atmospheric. It treats the sketch as a symbol of fragility — a fleeting idea from Beethoven’s late period, transformed into a meditation on loss and memory. The work is less about historical reconstruction and more about emotional resonance: how a tiny Beethoven fragment can still move us when re‑imagined with sensitivity.

Prengel’s Elegy is not a Beethoven piece, nor does it pretend to be. It is a 21st‑century homage, a way of listening to Beethoven’s silence as much as to his notes. Where Beethoven left only a few bars, Prengel builds a space for reflection — a modern elegy for a fragment that might otherwise have remained forgotten.