(MUSIC) So, today’s lecture is on the Sonata Op. 13, the so-called “Pathetique”, one of the most immediately striking works of the early period. When I was a teenager, the “Pathetique” was vastly famous – probably one of the four or five most frequently played of the sonatas. It featured on all sorts of “Beethoven’s Greatest Hits” compilations, God help us, and there were so many recordings that brought this sonata together with the “Moonlight” and the “Appassionata”, a casual observer could have been excused for thinking those were the only three sonatas Beethoven wrote. For years, the radio host Karl Haas would begin his highly popular, very informative, and frankly slightly embarrassing NPR program “Adventures in Good Music”, by playing a recording of the “Pathetique”’s slow movement – and then speaking over it. It was the sort of piece one heard constantly, without ever really listening. For whatever reason, these days the “Pathetique” doesn’t seem nearly so ubiquitous. It isn’t neglected, by any stretch, but a good 10 of the sonatas appear as or more regularly on recital programs. I would argue that this has done the piece, and our relationship to it, a great deal of good: it has made it easier for us to notice it – its visceral power, grave beauty, and in particular, its structural ingenuity. This sonata may be early, but it is, in many respects, “vintage” Beethoven. So, just like “Moonlight” and “Appassionata”, the name “Pathetique” does not come from Beethoven – it was given by the publisher. But Beethoven did not object to it, and really, it does the work no damage. Unlike the name “Moonlight”, which de-fangs the sonata in question, ignoring its darkness and turning it into something generically romantic, even treacly, “Pathetique” is a perfectly apt, if vague, description of this sonata’s emotional world. Fellow English speakers take note: “pathetique” does NOT mean “pathetic”. Coming from ancient Greek, via modern French, its meaning is much closer to “impassioned”, or simply “moving”. The word may not add to our understanding of the work, but it doesn’t compromise it, either. The “Pathetique” is dedicated to the Prince Lichnowsky – a patron and, to some extent, friend of Beethoven’s. (Beethoven’s friendships with his benefactors were in many cases real, if asymmetrical.) The work’s compositional history is a bit difficult to sort out. It was published in 1799, but there are a number of sketches of it from the previous year, and no surviving ones from 1799 itself. One possible explanation for this is that Beethoven wrote the sonata in 1798, and that its publication was then delayed, either at Beethoven’s own request, or for reasons beyond his control. This sort of thing was by no means uncommon: for example, around the same time, Beethoven was writing his first two piano concerti. The concerto published as “number 1” was, in fact, written AFTER the second concerto, not before it. In this case, it seems that Beethoven thought the later piece was the bigger and bolder of the two, and therefore more likely to make a splashy statement as his first published work in the genre. But in the case of the “Pathetique”, it’s also possible that Beethoven labored, even struggled, over this sonata considerably, and really just needed time to let his ideas percolate before the piece could take its ultimate shape. This would be logical, because really the Pathetique is a groundbreaking – and rule-breaking – work. It is worthy of its fame not only because of its sheer quality, and the strength of its character, but because it is an important and influential piece, one that expanded the possibilities of sonata form in clear-cut ways.
