Antonietta Cappelli | Beethoven Music Research Center www.lvbeethoven.org

J.B. Cramer – 21 ETÜDEN FÜR KLAVIER

Nebst Fingerübungen von Beethoven Nach dem Handexemplar LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVENs Herausgegeben von Hans Kann

Johann Baptist Cramer was born in Mannheim on 24 February 1771; he spent his entire life in London, having followed his parents there as a child. In that city he lived and developed the greater part of his musical career and his publishing activity. He died there on 16 April 1858.

From 1782 to 1784 he studied piano and had as his teacher the celebrated Muzio Clementi. He soon became a renowned pianist, and his fame spread widely across the continent. He enjoyed great reputation and was particularly esteemed by Beethoven, with whom he engaged in pianistic “contests” in Vienna. Both were considered the greatest pianists of their time; from the accounts that have come down to us, it seems that Beethoven excelled in interpretative expressiveness, while Cramer excelled in pure technical perfection — a quality acknowledged by Beethoven himself.

In England he was a prolific editor of Beethoven’s works, and it is in his printed edition of the Piano Concerto No. 5, Op. 73, that the title “Emperor” appears for the first time. The “Cramer & Co. Musical Instrument Manufacturing and Music Publishing Firm” was then located at 201 Regent Street. His business partners were Thomas Frederick Beale and Robert Addison. Cramer ended his personal involvement in the company at the end of 1833, although the firm retained its original name.

He wrote a considerable number of sonatas (over 200!), 50 sonatas for piano with another instrument, 9 concertos for solo instrument and orchestra, as well as a plethora of various piano pieces. Above all, his piano studies are still considered fundamental didactic works for conservatory students.

His music is generally less dramatic and elegant than Clementi’s, far less adventurous than Dussek’s, and much less romantic and sentimental than Chopin’s. Although stylistically conservative, in terms of passagework and purely pianistic technique his didactic output has crossed two centuries without showing any sign of decline.

The printed volume of the Cramer Études that forms the basis of our study is preserved in the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek in Berlin. The peculiarity of this copy (which belonged to Felix Anton Schindler) is that 21 out of the 84 studies are annotated in Beethoven’s hand (Schindler actually mentions only 20).

The exercises in question are numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 16, 18, 21, 23, 24, 27, 29, 30, and 41.

In reality, almost all the Cramer exercises that Beethoven used for the studies of his nephew Karl are annotated in Schindler’s handwriting, and many are even signed “A. Schindler”.

The introductory texts that follow are taken directly from the volume in question; to consult the complete texts, we invite you to purchase the volume by clicking the link above.

An excellent article on these exercises annotated by Beethoven is Beethoven’s Annotations to Cramer’s Twenty-One Piano Studies: Context and Analysis of Performance by Dimitri Karydis, available on our website.

ÜBER SCHINDLERS EXEMPLAR DER CRAMER-ETÜDEN

In der Deutschen Staatsbibliothek Berlin befindet sich ein Exemplar der Cramer-Etüden aus Beethovens Handbibliothek. Das Bemerkenswerte an diesem Exemplar, das aus dem Besitz Schindlers stammt, sind die beigefügten Bemerkungen, die von Beethoven stammen sollen, als dieser Cramers Etüden für den Unterricht seines Neffen verwendet hatte. Die Bemerkungen stehen vor 21 Studien (Schindler erwähnt nur 20) und sind mit dem Namen Beethovens unterzeichnet. Nahezu alle der 84 Studien enthalten Bemerkungen, die restlichen jedoch sind mit A. Schindler unterzeichnet. Ein großer Teil der Bemerkungen ist überklebt und enthält unterhalb Blei- stifteintragungen, die nicht mit dem Namen Beethovens unterzeichnet sind, wie überhaupt alle schriftlichen Bemerkungen die Charakteristik der Schindlerschen Handschrift tragen. Der Text unterhalb ist oft anders als der überklebte. Die beigefügten Akzente und metrisdien Bezeichnungen in den Noten sind unterschiedlich mit rötlicher und schwarzer Tinte sowie mit Bleistift hinzugefügt worden und dürften höchstwahrscheinlich von Beethoven stammen. Der Ursprung der von Schindler auf gezeichneten Bemerkungen könnte in mündlicher Überlieferung gesucht werden, da Schindler Zeuge des Unterrichts gewesen sein mag. Die Ursprünglichkeit und Direktheit der vorliegenden Bemerkungen, die sich sehr deutlich von den stereotypen Wiederholungen Schindlers unterscheiden, lassen Beethoven als Autor annehmen. Schindler hat diese Hefte zu seinen Lebzeiten nicht veröffentlicht. (1893 hat J. S. Shedlock bei Augner 20 Etüdeh mit den Bemerkungen Beethovens herausgegeben.) Das Titelblatt des Handexemplars enthält von Schindlers Hand einen Hinweis, daß man die Metronom bezeichnungen vergleichen möge und nimmt Bezug auf einen Artikel über das Metronom bei Cramer in der Leipziger Allgemeinen Musik-Zeitung 1817, Nr. 37. Nach Vergleich dieser dort angeführten Metronombezeichnungen mit dem Handexemplar Beethovens durch den Herausgeber stellten sich jedoch die Metronombezeichnungen als authentisch heraus. (Von den zahlreichen späteren Herausgebern der Cramer-Etüden sind die Metronombezeichnungen allerdings oftmals willkürlich geändert worden.)

BEMERKUNGEN AUS SCHINDLERS BEETHOVEN-BIOGRAPHIE

Es folgen nun Bemerkungen aus Schindlers Beethoven- Biographie über die Cramer-Etüden im Speziellen sowie über den Vortrag Beethovenscher Klavierwerke im Allgemeinen : Seite 182 und ff. in Beethoven’s Biographie II, 3. Auflage, ist vom Unterzeichneten bemerkt, daß Beethoven 20 Nummern (21, Anm. d. Hrsgb.) in ]. B. Cramer’s Etüden zum Studium für seinen Neffen didaktisch vorbereitet, wie noch, daß Beethoven diese Etüden mit der von ihm angegebenen Weisung der Behandlung als die geeignetste Vorschule zu seinen Werken betrachtet hat. Seite 206 wird dort ferner angeführt, daß aus der angezeigten Nutzanwendung jener 20 Nummern Beethoven’s Methode Klavier zu spielen ersichtlich ist.

Nach dem Vorgang meines Lehrers war es mir ein leichtes, Zweck und Behandlung bei allen übrigen Nummern dieser Etüden anzugeben und somit die Vorschule für Beethoven’s Klavierwerke zu vervollständigen. Sollte die Frage entstehen warum ich die gesammte Nutzanwendung dieser Etüden im Interesse von Beethoven’s Musik nicht veröffentlicht habe, so diene zur Antwort, daß die seit 30 Jahren herrschende Richtung im Clavierspiel, die als einziges Erforderniß nur die Technik kennt, von dieser ganz entgegenstehenden Methode keine Notiz genommen haben würde. Es muß eine andere Zeit kommen, welche die Instrumental Musik jeder Gattung wieder von der geistigen Seite aufzufassen bestrebt ist, dann erst wird dem Verständniß der Beethoven’sehen Intentionen der Weg gebahnt werden können.

Einsichtsvolle Musiker werden das begreifen. Meinerseits kann ich bekräftigen, daß dieser Weg dem ungeachtet ein sehr beschwerlicher ist. Ohne vorheriges Studium der (deutschen) Prosodie, ohne genaue Kennt- niß des iambischen 1), trochäischen 2), daktylischen 3) und spondäischen 4) Versmaßes, als derjenigen Dichtungsformen, die aller Instrumentalmusik zum Grunde liegen, ist beim Schüler nichts zu erreichen, denn auf dieser Kenntniß beruht die Kunst der richtigen Accentuation und Unterscheidung von Längen und Kürzen in den Tongruppen. Die richtige Declamation der Wort-Poesie dient hierbei als Analogie.

Zur Veröffentlichung dieser Etüden hätte mich nur der Fall bewegen können, wenn mein Schüler Franz Wüll-ner, der nach sechsjährigem Cursus mit allen Eigenthüm-lichkeiten dieser Schule nach Beethovens Intentionen wohl vertraut, der Bestimmung gefolgt wäre, für rieh-tiges Verständniß der Beethoven7sehen Claviermusik, vornehmlich der Sonaten, darin die tiefste Poesie verborgen liegt, durch öffentliche Vorträge nach bestem Vermögen wirksam zu seyn, wobei sich Gelegenheit und Veranlassung ergeben hätten, auf den sicheren Weg zu diesem eigentlichen Parnaß aller musikalischen Poesie aufmerksam zu machen. Daß ich in meinen gerechten Hoffnungen und Wünschen getäuscht worden, habe ich in Beethovens Biographie II, seite 206, mit wahrhaft schmerzlichen Gefühlen ausgesprochen und aussprechen müssen.

Wer immer einstens über das vorliegende Exemplar der Cramers sehen Etüden zu verfügen haben wird, an den sey hiermit die Bitte gerichtet, die Zustände auf musikalischem Gebiete sorgsam zu erwägen, bevor er diese gänzlich abweichende Methode die Claviermusik zu behandeln, der Öffentlichkeit übergibt. Zur Unzeit herausgegeben, wird sie, gleich vielem ändern Guten und Werthvollen, das Schicksal der Nichtbeachtung treffen und für alle Zeit verloren seyn. Es ist wohl aber selbstverständlich, daß, um wirksam seyn zu können, die Beethoven’sehen Anmerkungen nur in Verbindung mit diesen Etüden veröffentlicht werden sollen.

The Cramer Studies in the Project “La ricerca diventa Arte”

A New Life for the Unknown Works of Ludwig van Beethoven: An Artistic Exploration by the pianist Professor Antonietta Cappelli

The 100 studies composed by J. B. Cramer are essential milestones for the pianist preparing to become a professional. The composer himself writes, in the Preface to his first edition, that he composed the studies to: “facilitate the progress of those who intend to study the piano seriously.”

The studies were first published in 1803 in two series of 42 pieces; later, the 16 studies of Op. 81 were added (source: Gallica). Cramer was German but lived between England (he was a pupil of M. Clementi) and the France of F. Chopin. Great names are associated with this highly esteemed musician, hence the London epithet “glorious.” He lived to the age of 87 and had the good fortune of knowing the great pianists of the early nineteenth century. His studies were immediately adopted as didactic material, and many great names testify to their pedagogical value: L. v. Beethoven, F. Chopin, Hans von Bülow, and many others.

Browsing through the original collection of Cramer’s studies, I noticed that there is no gradual order of difficulty; therefore, studying them does not imply following the numerical order. Ideally, one should study them all, because each contains technical formulas found in many piano compositions of the time.

I focus on Hans von Bülow’s edition (thanks to which Cramer’s studies returned to didactic use). He prepared a critical revision of 60 studies, selected from the 100, in which he changed the numbering, fingering, phrasing, and arranged them in order of technical‑expressive difficulty. Bülow, as Alessandro Longo states, “provided rational fingering and added annotations and advice suggested by experience,” and in the Preface to the 60 studies of the 1988 Curci edition he declares: “I have eliminated the harshness of the fingering, almost all due to the rigid system adopted by Bülow regarding the alternation of fingers.” Bülow’s annotations are very precise, and he often emphasizes the importance of transposing the studies into other keys, preferring those with many black keys.

It is undoubtedly useful to play the studies in multiple positions; however, I do not agree with his choice to publish Study No. 3 (No. 7 in Bülow’s numbering) in D‑flat major instead of D major, which, as Longo states, “was done to simplify the fingering and the technique of legato.” Furthermore, the metronome indication appears as quarter note = 100, whereas in the first edition preserved at the Bibliothèque nationale de France it is eighth note = 100. Since it is marked Moderato and the right hand is written in sixteenth notes, the latter seems far more plausible.

Before 1800 there were no collections of “studies”; instead, one finds the terms “lessons” and “exercises.” Muzio Clementi wrote several didactic methods, such as Preludes and Exercises (first edition 1811) for the study of scales in all major and minor keys. Unlike Cramer’s studies, these are repetitive “exercises” whose sole purpose is to teach scales in all their forms, leaving aside interpretative aspects.

The piano was invented in the early 1700s, and by 1800 the mechanics and pedals had been perfected; thus, the improvement of the instrument required a corresponding refinement of pianistic technique. A turning point came precisely in 1803: Cramer published the first book of 42 studies — the first of its kind — consisting of repeated note patterns in various forms, designed to develop speed, coordination, and endurance.

Classicism was giving way to Romanticism, and this new musical form, the “study,” would lead to compositions of pure poetry, combining didactic purpose with artistic and expressive value, as technique demanded new elements. Cramer’s studies mark an important milestone in pianistic technique because they preserve all the techniques proper to the piano, no longer tied to harpsichord technique, and they open the way to the transcendental technique of Chopin, Liszt, Alkan, and others. Adolf von Henselt prepared a version of Cramer’s studies for two pianos (Étida J. B. Cramers, op. 41): the first piano presents the studies as written by Cramer, while the second plays the “skeleton” of the pieces in the form of a figurated chorale.

The piano was invented by the Paduan harpsichord maker Bartolomeo Cristofori at the request of Prince Ferdinando de’ Medici. The earliest surviving instrument is preserved at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and bears the date 1702.

In 1711 it was described in detail by Scipione Maffei in the Giornale dei letterati, and later in 1719 in his Rime e Prose. The publication made Cristofori’s invention known in other countries, inspiring the Germans Schroter and Silbermann (who attempted to claim the fame of being the first piano makers) to build similar instruments.

Cristofori’s instrument, called cembalo piano e forte, differed from the modern piano: it had no pedals, the hammers were placed below the strings, and the sound resembled that of a harpsichord. Yet, as historian Sergio Durante notes, the essential characteristics of the instrument played by Mozart and Beethoven were already present. Silbermann began building pianos in 1726 and presented them to J. S. Bach, who was not enthusiastic about the weak treble and the heaviness of the keyboard. Bach’s severe judgment led Silbermann to stop building pianos for years, though he continued secretly to improve the mechanism and reintroduced them twenty years later. On 7 May 1747, in the palace of Frederick the Great in Potsdam, J. S. Bach played a Silbermann instrument and was satisfied with the improvements (although he remained faithful to the harpsichord throughout his life).

The earliest pianos were fragile: wooden frames, thin strings, delicate mechanisms. For this reason, the instrument did not initially enjoy great success. The harpsichord remained dominant until the arrival of the great Viennese Classicists (Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven) and the great Muzio Clementi.

Thanks to continuous innovations, the great Classical composers dedicated numerous works to the new instrument. Beethoven in particular contributed to the development of the fortepiano, offering useful advice to builders regarding the robustness of the frame and the mechanics. Historically, the evolution and diffusion of pianos were made possible by the first Industrial Revolution, which originated in Britain. Scientific research stimulated technological discoveries; agriculture was in the hands of innovative landowners; manufacturing and mining industries generated capital; transportation networks expanded; cities grew; and internal and international trade flourished.

The market was ready to absorb new products. In this context, the economic and social conditions for mass production of pianos emerged, especially in England. Machines could produce mechanical components more quickly, lowering costs and making the instrument accessible to more people. The piano, always a social status symbol, became a hallmark of Georgian and especially Victorian England. Every bourgeois household had a piano. From 1770 onward, square pianos became widespread: rich, mellow sound, more so than the vertical and grand pianos of the time. They were domestic instruments, not intended for concert use. The late‑eighteenth‑century square piano became popular and played an important role in the commercial evolution of the piano, transforming it from an elite instrument into a mass‑market good.

In 1768, the London builder Johann Zumpe promoted the sale of his small square pianos. Production was only 500 instruments per year — far too few to meet demand. Other builders opened workshops in London, such as the Scotsman John Broadwood, who began selling square pianos in 1780. A grand piano cost 70 guineas (about €16,800 today): a luxury item, difficult to sell. Square pianos sold for 20–27 guineas, far more accessible.

Between 1782 and 1802, Broadwood sold 7,000 square pianos and only 1,000 grands. He had representatives in various countries (UK, France, Spain, Haiti, the East Indies) and exported to Russia, Denmark, Portugal, Italy, and America. High production and competitive prices were possible because Broadwood organized his workshop efficiently: each technician specialized in building a single part of the piano, which was then assembled and decorated — a process very similar to modern mass production. Until 1790, square pianos rested on four legs; later, elegant Sheraton‑style furniture with saber legs appeared, followed by Regency style with six turned legs and bronze decorations. The woods were fine (mahogany, maple), richly decorated and inlaid. Each builder painted or stamped his name; Clementi loved this type of decoration and used it extensively.

Germany and France also had significant piano production, and builders sought publicity and sponsors. Gifting instruments to great musicians was an effective promotional strategy. Broadwood often used this method, not only in England with Clementi but also abroad. In 1817 he sent Beethoven a grand piano as a gift — a major commercial victory, given that Austrian builders were England’s main competitors. In this scenario, the great pianist‑composers of the Classical era, increasingly drawn to the new instrument, fostered the development of its mechanics and repertoire.

Antonietta Cappelli

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BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Breuning, G.: Aus dem Schwarzspanierhaus. Wien 1874.

Fischmann, Nathan L.: Ein Skizzcnbuch (Wielhorsky) von Beethoven aus den Jahren 1802—1803. Moskau 1962.

Frimmel, T.: Beethoven-Handbuch I., II. Leipzig 1926.

Beethoven-Jahrbuch I. 1908.

Kästner, E.: Beethovens sämtliche Briefe. Leipzig 1910, 1923.

Bibliotheca Beethoveniana, Breitkopf & Härtel, 1913.

Koch, H. Chr.: Musikalisches Lexikon, Frankfurt 1802.

Mikulicz, K.: Ein Notierungsbuch von Ludwig van Beethoven. Leipzig 1927.

Skizzen zur III. und V. Symphonie und über die Notwendigkeit einer Gesamtausgabe der Skizzen Beethovens. BZ (1927). Nottebohm, G.: Beethoveniana, Band II. Leipzig 1887.

Ein Skizzenbuch von Beethoven aus dem Jahre 1801. Leipzig 1865.

Ein Skizzenbuch von Beethoven aus dem Jahre 1803. Leipzig 1880.

Schindler, A.: Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven. Münster 1840, 1870.

Schmidt-Görg, J.: Katalog der Handschriften des Beethoven-Hauses und Beethoven-Archivs Bonn. 1935.

Drei Skizzenbücher zur Missa Solemnis. Bonn 1952.

Seyfried, I.: Ludwig van Beethoven, Studien im Generalbasse, Contrapuncte und in der Compositions-Lehre. Wien 1832.

Sonneck, O. G.: Beethoven Letters in America. Schirmer 1927.

Thayer, A. W.: Ludwig van Beethovens Leben, Band I—V. Leipzig 1901—1911.

Wegeier und Ries: Biographische Notizen über Ludwig van Beethoven. Coblenz 1838.

Weise, Dagmar: Ein Skizzenbuch zur Chorfantasie und zu anderen Werken. Bonn 1957. Wir möchten an dieser Stelle für die freundliche Hilfe von Prof. Dr. J. Schmid-Görg, Prof. F. Racek, Dr. A. Weinmann, Prof. O. Jonas und K. H. Füssl danken. XVU.

Fantasy Op. 77 – A Fantastic Utopia

Or a fanciful utopia, between reality and imagination. An article by Antonietta Cappelli

The Fantasia is a musical genre free from formal constraints. Born in Italy between the Humanist and Renaissance periods, it is identified as a musical “form” intended for solo performances on keyboard or plucked instruments; it would later extend to wind and bowed instruments, as well as to instrumental ensembles. It is a brilliant, improvisatory piece that follows the evolution of performance practice and appears in two guises: either in the manner of a prelude (the art of preluding) or as an imitative (free) piece similar to the ricercare. In the late Baroque period, its imitative features disappear, monody prevails over polyphony, and it becomes adorned with virtuosic passages.

Beethoven composed his Fantasia Op. 77, a work whose description cannot be separated from the historical and personal context in which it was conceived; it is therefore necessary to recall certain events.

In the autumn of 1808, Napoleon’s brother Jérôme offered Beethoven the position of Kapellmeister in Kassel. Ludwig declined the appointment, and in order to keep him in Vienna, his three principal patrons (Archduke Rudolph, Prince Lobkowitz, and Prince Kinsky) decided to grant him an annual stipend of four thousand florins. The year 1809 marked a new phase in Beethoven’s output, one that saw him engaged in major projects and compositions (the overture to Goethe’s Egmont, the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies; the Piano Sonata Op. 81a “Das Lebewohl,” the Quartets Op. 74 and Op. 95, the Trio Op. 97, the Violin Sonatas Op. 90 and Op. 96), as well as works of various kinds, among which the present Fantasia. It is likely that this Fantasia was conceived in December 1808, as C. Czerny states, for the same concert in which the Choral Fantasy Op. 80 was premiered—namely, on 22 December 1808 at the Theater an der Wien. It begins with an improvised introduction at the piano, played by Beethoven himself. Could this very “fantasy” have given rise to the work in question? No written source tells us why it was composed or for what occasion. In any case, Beethoven completed Op. 77 in October, after the signing of the armistice and presumably during or after a stay in Hungary at the home of Count Franz Brunsvik (the work’s dedicatee) and his sister Therese. The Fantasia was published in November 1810 by Breitkopf & Härtel in Leipzig, in December 1810 by Artaria in Vienna, and in August of the same year by Clementi in London.

To interpret Beethoven’s intentions, I found it useful to consult the manuscript copy available on the Beethoven‑Haus website. When comparing the first Breitkopf & Härtel edition with later ones (including those by the same publishers), one finds differences that alter the character of certain passages. I will focus on the most striking ones. After the “Allegro con brio” section comes the first “Adagio,” followed by the descending scale and then another “Adagio.” It is precisely in this second “Adagio” that the manuscript (figure on the right) shows accents on the last eighth note of each measure—accents that I have not found in any of the editions consulted (all available on the Beethoven‑Haus website).

Breitkopf & Härtel, first edition, 1810 (posthumous corrections to the printing are visible)

Artaria Edition of 1813

Manuscript (preserved at the Beethoven Haus) fig.1

Manuscript (preserved at the Beethoven Haus) fig.2

These accents, if omitted, fail to convey the recitative character that Beethoven intends, just as the “picchettato” markings found in the sections presented below. They appear only in the earliest editions; in later ones they are reduced to simple staccatos. Here too the character changes, because in the manuscript (as is evident) Beethoven seems to indicate the specific wrist motion required to obtain the desired sound: dry and decisive.

This “picchettato” is also marked beneath the final note of the piece, clearly showing that Beethoven wanted an ending without hesitation—dry, forceful, and unequivocal.

A sextuplet which, in many editions, becomes a double triplet (at tempo it will be difficult to perceive whether one is playing triplets or sextuplets… what matters is to lean on the first note of each group of six semiquavers, because this recreates the same melody as the opening theme—hidden, and not highlighted even by Beethoven himself).

This piece is an “atypical” composition within Beethoven’s catalogue, and even his contemporaries noted that the composer was searching for new harmonies and moving away from classical models. In 1813, the reviewer of the Viennese newspaper Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung wrote: “There is often talk of new works by Beethoven, but anyone even partially familiar with the compositions of Mr. Beethoven will view this new work from two perspectives: as entirely original in its harmonies, forms, and modulations; and as very difficult to perform.”

The Beethoven who diligently recorded his sketches is also the improviser who kept his ideas in his mind and brought them to life when needed. Many scholars have detected this improvisatory vein in his sketches. J. Kerman, in the introduction to the Kafka Miscellany, emphasizes that Beethoven’s annotations reveal “improvisations on paper.” R. Kramer, on page 5 of his Beethoven’s Compositional Process, writes: “[…] We may attempt to establish a general distinction between formal improvisation, as a form of public performance, and private improvisation, which is an innate action in any compositional act. Of this second type, Beethoven’s sketches—the fraction of the process that was written down—constitute a precious legacy.”

Had this Fantasia not been written down, we would never have been able to hear or perform it, as has often happened with many improvisers of the past. This is the case with Mussorgsky’s “Black Sea Storm,” a piece mentioned by several contemporaries but for which no score exists. The composer used to perform it in his concerts, but he never wrote it down, as Alexandra Orlova reports in Musorgsky Remembered.

Let us now turn to the specific features of the Fantasia Op. 77 and attempt to identify the characteristics that distinguish it:

It has no fixed key but is a continuous sequence of modulations.
Free and agile improvisation, interrupted by large chords.
Melodic lines in constant tonal evolution.
Predominance of dissonant sonorities.
If we consider this piece merely as a display of virtuosity, we lose its true nature. There are many expressive passages that verge on the “recitative” (for example, the “Adagio” sections, including the ending).
A continuous search for contrasting elements in dynamics and notation. The aim is to astonish both the listener and the pianist encountering the score for the first time.
The “chromatic” compositional style recalls that used by J. S. Bach in the Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue BWV 903, and which Beethoven himself explores in Op. 39 (the two chromatic preludes).
I would define the piece as a “chromatic fantasia” followed by a theme and variations (Allegretto); we cannot assign a single tonal center to the entire work because it is a “modulating becoming.”
Despite its heterogeneity, it forms a unified whole because the slow sections act as a binding agent. The first part consists of contrasting, modulating themes, and from the Allegretto onward begins the final section, which closes with the Adagio and the contrary‑motion scales that seem to recall the initial bichromatic scales, ending with an octave leap on the tonic.
After a tonal excursus through the various sections of the Fantasia, Beethoven arrives at the Allegretto in B major—and not by chance. Although it has five sharps in the key signature, it is the most comfortable and stable key for the hands. In my view, given the passages of agility and the various technical demands, the choice of B major is anything but accidental.

The first fifteen measures feature the bichromatic scales, ascending and descending, together with the poco adagio, sweet and expressive. A third idea then appears: Allegro, ma non troppo, in a dance‑like style which, with its final dominant‑seventh chord (preceded by a leading‑tone seventh), initiates an Eingang made of broken arpeggios (typical of Bach’s writing) leading into the Allegro con brio, evoking a Hungarian rhapsodic style. This latter section and those that follow (Adagio / Presto / più presto / Adagio) put the performer to a severe test: passages of virtuosity alternate with lyrical and expressive ones.

After the central section, the music arrives at the final idea: a carefree Allegretto rich in variations. In the last page the bichromatic scale patterns return, and not by chance: Beethoven “closes the circle,” and to recall the opening idea he assigns contrary‑motion scales to both hands. This final page is extremely intricate from a technical standpoint and employs rich harmonies that produce full sonorities; in some passages one plays with all ten fingers simultaneously, reminiscent of the large chords of S. Rachmaninoff and far removed from classical models. And then, the final note is extremely detached and marked—almost “punched.”

[…] Here Beethoven pushes a particular principle—the principle of disjunction—to the extreme, and he would surely smile at our well‑intentioned attempts to find the structural axis of the piece […]. The core of the work is the absence of a structural axis. There seems to be no other way to judge the Fantasia than as a deliberate attempt to highlight the disruptive elements of music. Hugh MacDonald, “Fantasy and Order in Beethoven’s Phantasie Op. 77,” in Edgard Olleson (ed.), Modern Musical Scholarship, Oriel Press, Stockfield 1980, p. 145.

Studying this piece has fascinated me because it allowed me to understand how Beethoven’s creative act might have been perceived in its performative phase. My initial impression was one of bewilderment: extremely rapid ascending and descending scales, slow and meditative sections alternating with agitated and unstable ones, the presence of fermatas and silences. These last two elements in particular convey the sense of an idea in continuous evolution, of that emotional inventiveness that only the human mind can produce, using breaks just as we do in speech: silences and suspended notes function like breaths that facilitate the articulation of discourse and make it expressive.

There are two “moments” that brought to mind two famous works by composers who came after Beethoven: the Adagio (after the rhapsodic section) and the presto / più presto.

The Adagio features repeated notes that evoke the ticking of time, or—as in Chopin—the “raindrop” of the Prelude Op. 28 No. 15. The presto / più presto is an idea we find in several of Beethoven’s works, particularly in the first movement of the celebrated Sonata Op. 57, the Appassionata. Later, the idea would be taken up by S. Rachmaninoff in his youthful Prelude in C‑sharp minor Op. 3 No. 2, known as the “Bells of Moscow,” precisely in the central section marked Agitato and followed by an accelerando, as shown in the figure.

Immagine del manoscritto di Chopin, presa da Wikipedia.

These two examples demonstrate the posthumous influences of Beethoven’s way of composing and presenting music. Op. 77 is a disruptive way of introducing sonic ideas which, in my view, conveys a precise message: the past, the present, and the future are intimately connected. The apparent disjointedness of this work disappears as soon as one delves into its study; that is to say, the tastes of classical Vienna were changing, and the sociopolitical disorder I mentioned earlier was opening new perspectives. Moreover, Beethoven was a mature musician, and all his studies—as evidenced by his sketches—led him to dare and to seek the new. How could one ignore the historical context?

The Fantasia is a portrait of Vienna at the time, of its “capricious” and frivolous bourgeoisie. Beethoven once again astonishes everyone and bids farewell to the wider public with this enigmatic work; and, as many of his biographers note, after his grand performances there often followed a great burst of laughter.

The Opus 77 Fantasy is part of the “Research Becomes Art” project.

A New Life for the Works of Ludwig van Beethoven: An Artistic Exploration by the Pianist Professor Antonietta Cappelli

“Steinway to Heaven”: Beethoven and Folk Melodies

Padua, 14 April 2022 – “Store Zin Strumenti Musicali”, official dealer of Steinway & Sons

The magical melodies of Ludwig van Beethoven resounded through the hall. Antonietta Cappelli, Eleonora Zambon, Michelle Candian, Eva Maria Soceanu and Mattia Fattoretto shared unique emotions on the “Steinway to Heaven” stage. A magnificent Steinway & Sons concert grand took pride of place in the Zin musical instrument store in Padua, surrounded by glass walls and a beautiful room framed by pianos and instruments of every kind.

“Beethoven and Folk Melodies” was the title chosen for the event, as the composer – beloved by young and old alike – employs musical structures that captivate listeners of every social background and nationality. The Nine German Dances, all written in major keys, convey joy and an irresistible desire to celebrate.

I conceived them as very simple pieces: a gentle opening, gradually building in intensity. Their structure unfolded as follows: the first and second closely linked; the third and fourth standing alone; the fifth ethereal and delicate; the sixth and seventh paired together; and the eighth and ninth intimate and companionable.

I allowed myself a degree of interpretative licence with the sixth and seventh dances, imagining them as a single piece shaped in the sonata form so dear to Classicism, ABA. Both little dances are in C major, yet they display contrasting characters: the first lively, evoking the circular motion typical of rustic dances; the second calmer and more tranquil, as though the circle were opening and the dancers, now facing one another, arranged themselves in two rows, arms outstretched to form a bridge beneath which couples pass one by one (suggested by descending scale passages), before returning to the more pressing circular motion of the opening.

These dances were followed by the Gavotte and the Marcia lugubre Anhang 08, more refined in character. The former reflects its formal features (duple metre, an upbeat opening, moderate tempo, and an elegant, graceful style); the latter recalls a slow, ostentatious marching dance. The epithet “lugubre” suggests scenes of professional mourners – the praeficae of ancient Greece and Rome. At moments the piece feels tragic, at others almost comic, detached and surreal. One can almost hear the bass drums shaping the funereal rhythm and the persistent lamentations that intensify after the refrain of the first section, gradually fading away towards the close.

This was followed by the “Presto”, the third movement of the celebrated Piano Sonata Op. 2 No. 1, which conjures an almost infernal dance softened here and there by lyrical, radiant elements; the “Alla tedesca”, first movement of the Sonata Op. 79, offering folk-like themes and dance rhythms; the gentle sweetness of the Barcarolle (Biamonti 816), which in just a few bars conveys both melancholy and a longing for renewal; and finally the Rondo Op. 51 No. 1, to which I would like to devote a few reflections. Published in 1797 by Artaria in Vienna, it may in fact have been composed much earlier, given its thematic richness and formal uncertainty.

The principal theme recurs frequently, justifying the title “Rondo”, yet the other themes possess such distinct character that they almost suggest the form of a song. Indeed, it seems to me a kind of union between Rondo and song-form. The beauty of this piece and its abundance of thematic material are undeniable – so abundant that it could well inspire an entire opera.

In this regard, while Eva was performing it, I sensed that (from the second beat of bar 60 to the first beat of bar 66) there may be a faint resemblance to the celebrated aria “La donna è mobile” from Rigoletto by Giuseppe Verdi. The little theme begins at bar 60 and ends at bar 62, then over the following four bars it is varied and modulated before unfolding into a descending run of semiquavers.

It is certainly too brief a motif to claim that Giuseppe Verdi might have drawn direct inspiration from Ludwig van Beethoven’s Rondo; yet he may have studied or heard the piece and, quite unconsciously, retained the passage in his memory – or perhaps Beethoven’s melodies form part of our shared human genetic heritage. Hence the notion of “folk melodies”.

Antonietta Cappelli

Eleonora Zambon

Eva Maria Soceanu and Antonietta Cappelli

Eva Maria Soceanu

Mattia Fattoretto

Michelle Candian

To explore these works in greater depth, further information and documents are available from the Centro Ricerche Musicali at www.lvbeethoven.org:

Opus 2 – Three Piano Sonatas (in F minor, A major and C major)

Anhang 8 – Three Pieces for Piano Four Hands

Anhang 8 – Three Pieces for Piano Four Hands – A Study – by Graziano Denini

Kozeluch, La ritrovata figlia di Ottone II – Ballet, Op. 39

Anhang 9 – Nine German Dances for Piano Four Hands ((doubtful attribution but now correctly attributed to Johann Baptist Vanhal)

Biamonti 816 – Barcarolle Movement in G minor

Articles: The Piano Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento” from Paisiello’s “La Bella Molinara”

J.B. AUERNHAMMER, J. GELINEK and L.V. BEETHOVEN.
A comparative study, by Antonietta Cappelli

The theme and variations is a musical form consisting of an apparently simple structure. The theme is a musical period either newly composed or taken from a well‑known and famous melody. It is presented several times using variations of melody (adding or removing notes from the theme), rhythm, harmony, timbre (in ensemble or orchestral music), or register (in instrumental music), and finally dynamics or agogics.

The use of this musical form was a source of amusement for composers, especially classical ones, who, taking a fashionable theme, sought to display their skill and technical ability.

This is the case with the three versions of theme and variations on the duet “Nel cor più non mi sento” by Paisiello, written by three musicians active in Vienna between the second half of the 1700s and the first half of the 1800s: Josepha Barbara Auernhammer (25 September 1758 – 30 January 1820), Joseph Gelinek (3 December 1758 – 13 April 1825), and Ludwig van Beethoven (Bonn, 16 December 1770 – Vienna, 26 March 1827).

La Molinara was composed by Paisiello in 1788 and immediately enjoyed great success, and it is no coincidence that the theme of the famous duet “Nel cor più non mi sento” became the object of the most varied reworkings by great names, among them the celebrated N. Paganini with his Op. 38.

In the original aria there are 8 introductory bars, followed by the 20 bars that constitute the theme, presented in the A B A form typical of the Canzone.

The pianistic triptych we are about to analyse does not consider the 8 introductory bars but begins directly with the theme, preserving the key of G major and the metre.

Among the three pieces, the simplest (not in ideas, but to play) is certainly Beethoven’s. The musician attended the performance of La Molinara on 2 June 1795 at the Kärntnertortheater in Vienna, in the company of a lady who expressed the wish to possess variations on the aria “Nel cor più non mi sento”, and the next morning the musician, susceptible to the charms of the fair sex, had the manuscript delivered to her. He himself states that “They are so easy that the lady should be able to play them at first sight.” (Wegeler/Ries, page 80).

Let us try to understand what unites and what makes unique the three compositions in question.

Josepha Barbara Auernhammer

Joseph Gelinek

Ludwig Van Beethoven

· Published in Vienna by Speyer, Bosseler no. 226, 1791.

· THEME, 6 VARIATIONS AND A CODA with a final section in 2/4.

· The theme consists of 20 bars, presented in a simple and linear manner (melody entrusted to the right hand and accompaniment to the left hand) in the key of G major, in 6/8 time, with an anacrustic rhythm.

· Presence of appoggiaturas. A single fermata at the end of section B, placed on the D chord. All cadences clearly marked, well‑defined perfect cadences.

· The bass line, clearly visible from Variation 1, proceeds as follows: I V I III IV V I II III IV V I, a modulating progression leading to D major, and continues with V I IV V I.

· The formal structure is preserved, except in the coda (better called a cadenza), which appears free and virtuosic and closes with a lively little dance in 2/4.

· Published in Vienna by Artaria: J. Cappi, 1796.

· THEME and 6 VARIATIONS.

· The theme consists of 20 bars, presented simply, in the key of G major, in 6/8 time, with an anacrustic rhythm. The melody is entrusted mainly to the right hand, except in the fifth bar and its subsequent repetition, where left and right hands duet using parallel thirds. The accompaniment consists of open chords.

· Presence of acciaccaturas and only one fermata, on the rests, at the end of section B before the reprise.

· The bass proceeds as follows: I V I II V I V I V I, a progression leading to D major, and continues V I II V II V I V I.

· The formal structure is preserved. The final variation presents a small closing CODA, a composed cadenza, which ends the piece sotto voce.

· Published in Vienna by Traeg on 23 March 1796.

· THEME and 6 VARIATIONS.

· Presence of acciaccaturas and only one fermata at the end of section B, on the D chord, before the reprise.

· The bass proceeds as follows: I V I II V I V I V I, a progression leading to D major, and continues V I II V II V I V I.

· The formal structure is preserved. The final variation presents a concluding coda which is an elaboration of the preceding material. The reworking begins at bar 20. The distinctive elements of a grand ending are present: hand‑crossing, octaves in the bass, and voices echoing each other across the registers.

All the variations, even at first glance, appear complicated (and they are!).

Variation no. 1 ornaments the melody, making it proceed through arpeggios and acrobatic leaps (in Lisztian fashion) reaching two octaves. All this at speed, with the left hand moving in quavers. At the reprise of the first section, after two bars, the left hand arpeggiates and leaps, while the right hand seems to recall Paisiello’s sung introduction.

Variation no. 2 is an exercise in chromatic scales, at speed, mainly for the left hand. In the reprise the two hands engage in a call‑and‑response duet.

Variation no. 3 is an exercise in double thirds and double sixths, staccato, with chromaticism in the second section. A demanding technical test, requiring great precision of gesture and touch.

Variation no. 4 is an exercise in hand‑crossing for the left hand. The right hand has a simple accompaniment, while the left hand enjoys leaping from the low register to the high one, closing in fine style with a trill.

Variation no. 5, written in the minor mode, requires control of sound in the high register, cantabile phrasing of the melody, and skill in continuous register shifts through octave displacement.

Variation no. 6 is a technical exercise in speed, using typical codified fingerings 34231423 (first bar), 3241 (third and fourth bars). This is followed by articulation passages revolving around repeated‑thumb patterns, and finally arpeggios in three positions and broken arpeggios.

CODA: recalls the typical cadenzas of piano concertos. A display of technique culminating in ascending and descending scales in thirds, in the home key, racing over the seventh of D minor which transforms into D major, the dominant of G, before joyfully launching into a delightful little dance in 2/4 which may be considered the seventh variation of the theme.

Variations of medium difficulty and very well balanced in form.

Variation no. 1 Linear, harpsichord‑like writing rather than pianistic. The dynamics recall the sound effects that can be recreated on the piano. Phrasing clearly presented and very precise. Continuous dialogue between the two hands.

Variation no. 2 Melody entrusted to the right hand and sparkling arpeggios entrusted to the left hand.

Variation no. 3 Melody entrusted to the left hand and graceful little scales to the right hand.

Variation no. 4 – “Siciliana” A slow dance in 6/8 characterised by dotted rhythm, written in the minor key. It evokes a pastoral and melancholy atmosphere. Very faithful to the classical form.

Variation no. 5 An exercise in triplet scales in the left hand, with the melody—accompanied by additional notes—entrusted to the right hand.

Variation no. 6 Typical Alberti bass of classicism. The melody is disguised by the crotchets and quavers that leap from one hand to the other, almost as if to underline the tight duet of the Theme, as happens in a fugue at the moment of the stretti: two voices chasing each other and meeting in the last five bars (coda), leaving the stage hand in hand.

Medium‑easy variations, very well balanced in form.

Variation no. 1 Melody enriched with passing notes and turns, entrusted to the right hand, with simple chordal accompaniment in the left.

Variation no. 2 The melody, in a violinistic style, is accompanied by a lively up‑and‑down motion of semiquavers that move conjointly or in small leaps.

Variation no. 3 Technique of alternating hands with arpeggios, with a well‑defined and dancing rhythm. It gives the impression of a duet whirling in a playful and amorous dance.

Variation no. 4 In the minor key, characterised by syncopated rhythm and off‑beats that constitute the melody entrusted to the right hand. They resemble the breathless sighs typical of lovers. It results in a sensual moment.

Variation no. 5 The sensuality is interrupted by the descending scales of the right hand, which add themselves—not accompany—to the melodic duet proposed by the left hand, and evoke the characters running through the forest in search of Calloandro.

Variation no. 6 A festive and cheerful duet employing the technique of broken arpeggios. It is not reduced to a mere exercise in pure technique. At bar 20, the beginning of the coda, the composer exploits the melodic elements, reworking them and using hand‑crossing, octaves, elements present in the melody of variation 2, and brief semiquaver trills.

Josepha Auernhammer – IV Variations Antonietta Cappelli, harpsichord

Josepha Auernhammer – IV Variations Antonietta Cappelli, piano

Gelinek – Six Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento” by Paisiello Antonietta Cappelli, piano

WoO 70 – Six Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento” from La bella Molinara Antonietta Cappelli, piano

Three different ways of developing variations on a well‑known and popular theme. Three very beautiful works that present three great figures of Classical Vienna and that allow us to understand traits of each of their personalities. Very often, when I play a piece, I feel the author’s thought. The notes are written on the “page”, but if we consider notation as a form of writing, a code to be deciphered, then it becomes necessary to find the key: to understand the musical thought.

Josepha appears as a determined and resolute woman. Poor friend! She lived in an era in which, in order to emerge, she had to prove herself an acrobat of the keyboard. And to think that, despite the admiration shown by her teacher W. A. Mozart and by her contemporaries (she was an excellent and much‑sought‑after teacher), so little is known about her life… She wished to travel and support herself by performing, and instead she had to fold away her ambitions, remain in Austria, and accept married life. She continued her career and was harshly criticised, even torn apart by her contemporaries, because her way of playing was no longer fashionable…

Her variations appear as technical exercises, but behind all those notes, those varied rhythmic combinations and floating figures, we find great musical knowledge and tremendous energy. In the final cadenza there is “Her”, her essence: no bar‑lines, freedom! But then comes the little dance in 2/4, which is nonetheless liberating. How wonderful it would have been to hear her play!

Gelinek’s variations are very scholastic and measured. We are speaking of an Abbot with a gentle soul. He proves very refined in his choices, and from beginning to end there is perfect balance. In my view, the difference is made by the “siciliana”: very fashionable in the Baroque but also present in Classicism. The writing is very harpsichord‑like; the dynamic and phrasing indications are extremely precise. Gelinek was a diligent pupil of Johann Georg Albrechtsberger, who (after J. Haydn and for a short time) taught Beethoven counterpoint and composition. If we compare the construction of the two works, we notice that the skeletal structure is very similar, but, at equal artistic level, there is no comparison. As Lewis Lockwood states (p. 82 of The Music and the Life), according to Albrechtsberger, Beethoven would never “produce anything accurate”; at the same time Beethoven found in Albrechtsberger only the art of developing and “creating the musical skeleton”. Gelinek reflects the skeleton, and Beethoven makes the difference.

This precision is lacking in Beethoven (whom we know to have been very disorderly) and in Auernhammer.

Beethoven is younger than the other two musicians under consideration. In my opinion, even in its simplicity, he gives this composition a delicacy and a unique atmosphere. The fact that he wrote it to give it as a gift to a woman—and one he surely wished to win over—reveals his genius. Few notes, few effects, to go straight to the point.

Beauty in synthesis and simplicity!

Antonietta Cappelli

The variations are part of the project “Research Becomes Art”.

A new life for the unknown works from the time of Ludwig van Beethoven:
An artistic exploration curated by the pianist Professor Antonietta Cappelli

Jack Werner – The Beethoven Sketchbook – Miniatures for piano.

In the mid-1960s, London-based MSM Music Publishers began publishing Beethoven’s sketches, arranged by Jack Werner, for various levels of piano study. Unfortunately, Werner does not indicate the individual sources for the sketches, but his references include Kafka, Kessler, Landsberg, and others. We have retained Werner’s extemporaneous titles, as they are all apocryphal. The pianist is Professor Antonietta Cappelli, assisted, where indicated, by her excellent students: Matilde Morosin and Eva Maria Soceanu.

FOREWORD

The Beethoven Sketchbooks are remarkable relics of a very great composer, and perhaps the most human documents ever left by a musical genius. The study of these Sketchbooks gives one an insight into Beethoven’s method of composition, his incessant toil and the pains bestowed on works great and small, the imprint of a powerful individuality searching for the ideal way of expression, and, after the greatest of efforts, finding the form that seemed the last word on the subject. On the other hand there are many charming ideas in the Sketchbooks that have been passed over; whether through lack of time, or because there were more important matters on his mind, we do not know. There is always a regret that these little subject gems did not appear as Bagatelles, or in Sonatina form. How charming and useful they would be to the young student. The question has often come to mind, could one, dare one, use these sketches as the foundation of little pieces?Now at last Mr. Jack Werner has with courage, scholarship and the greatest respect presented many of these sketches in a suitable form for the student. He has not for a moment imposed his personal idiom on the little ideas, but on the contrary he has presented them in a manner closely allied to Beethoven’s own settings and style, and in this way I think that he has justified his great enterprise and given us an entrancing set of pieces.

Beethoven’s Sketches for Piano Teaching: 6 booklets containing various basic techniques. The first volume is very simple, and from the very first study, it features precise phrasing for the right hand and legato accompaniment for the left hand. The presence of phrasing throughout the studies encourages the use of the wrist! The wrist becomes the pianist’s greatest enemy, whether beginner or advanced, if not properly articulated. It determines the melody’s expressiveness, speed, and thus the resulting muscular dissociation.
I recommend studying the melody’s accuracy, proper key attack, and careful phrasing and bimanuality.

Antonietta Cappelli