a brilliant, almost a bravura piece, is remarkable for the prominence given to passages for the left hand and, generally, for its strong dynamic contrasts. All three Sonatas have their moments of exquisite grace: what, for instance, is more charming than the Scherzo of the second Sonata? These are not merely Beethoven's first Sonatas, they are real lyrics of music-fresh, melodious, shapely, gay, yet serious.

To 1796 belong the Sonatina published later as Op. 49, No. 2, and the much more important Sonata in E flat, Op. 7. The former is interesting, because Beethoven took one of the themes and worked it up into the familiar Menuetto of the Septet, Op. 20. The Sonata in E flat, dedicated to the Countess Babette von Keglevics, one of his early "beloveds," is on the grand scale, with four lengthy movements, all of great worth. Most insistently remarkable are the Scherzo with its mysterious episode in E flat minor, and the Largo, in which, young as he was, Beethoven seems to be exploring and interpreting the infinite. Even the placid and almost plaintive Rondo has a great "Revolutionary" outburst in C minor.

Op. 7 marks a distinct advance on Op. 2 in poetic and technical power; and the advance is maintained in the three fine works forming Op. 10, dedicated to the Countess von Browne. The first two are slighter in scale than Op. 7, though the one has its magnificent Adagio and the second its Allegretto (faintly anticipating the Scherzo of the C minor) and its popular and ever delightful Presto, the embodiment of gay movement; the third, the gem of the set, is great music. Play before or after it the best Sonata of Mozart's and you are aware, not that one is "better" than the other-for such arithmetical valuations have no meaning in a living art-but that one is more personal and intense than the other. Old patterns keep their shapes, but are filled with new meaning. The heart-searching Largo and the lovely little Menuetto are like a great experience. Regarded historically, they announce the definite arrival of a new and original force in music; and this message is emphasised by the great Op. 13, published, very unhappily, though apparently with Beethoven's consent, as the "Grande Sonate Pathétique." It is heroic rather than pathetic-indeed, there is no composition of Beethoven's to which the term "pathetic" can be applied, except by those who would apply it to the end of "Lear" or of "Antony and

Cleopatra." No doubt every one has been struck by the general likeness between some bars of the Grave movement and the Prelude to "Tristan und Isolde." But there is no But there is no " pathos," let us repeat, in the powerful sweep of the Allegro, in the hushed serenity of the Adagio or the firm grace of the Rondo. "Tristan" is a nay-saying to life; the "Sonate Pathétique" is a superb, undaunted affirmation.

The two Sonatas published as Op. 14, and dedicated to the Baroness von Braun, are less striking but quietly beautiful works, the first with a memorable, Schubert-like Allegretto and most exhilarating Rondo, the second with a strongly-flowing Allegro and a pleasantly easy Andante in variation form. Here, in time of composition, comes the Sonatina published later as Op. 49, No. 1.

The next Sonata, the brilliant Op. 22, is reached through several important works for other instruments-the first two piano Concertos, the delightful set of six Quartets forming Op. 18, the first Symphony for orchestra, and the Septet. The Sonata itself is a full-length work in four movements, each at the high level of its companions and exhibiting traditional form and original genius in perfect combination. This Sonata, which Mr. Casella's splendid edition marks as the last in Beethoven's " first style," illustrates a quality more fully shown in the piano works than in any department of his writing, namely, the steady development of his art in all directions-the growth of his power both to create and to transmit. The alleged "three styles" may seem discernible in the Quartets, where we pass from the six of Op. 18 to the three of Op. 59 and thence (neglecting the episodic Op. 74 and Op. 95), to the astounding group of utterances, beginning with Op. 127. These form three great masses of work, each with its own strong character; but even here we have not so much three styles as three ages-the spring, summer and autumn of the artist's life. Only by violence can the piano Sonatas be thrust into three groups, for they show us, not a man with three manners, but an artist slowly growing from strength to strength, never content to repeat an old success, but building out steadily into the infinite.

Four famous and popular works belong to the year 1801, the "Funeral March" Sonata (Op. 26), the two marked " quasi una Fantasia" (Op. 27, 1 and 2), and the so-called " Pastoral," Op. 28.

The first begins, like Mozart's Sonata in A, with an Andante and variations, continues with a Scherzo and a noble "Funeral March on the Death of a Hero," and concludes with a delightful rippling stream of Chopinesque figures. The very beautiful "Sonata, quasi una Fantasia," Op. 27, No. 1, has suffered because Sonata volumes always tend to open at Op. 27, No. 2, the socalled "Moonlight" Sonata. Both are written very freely as to form, and are meant to be played without pause between the movements. The first, dedicated to the Princess von Lichtenstein, begins calmly, almost plaintively, and passes through a powerful Allegro molto to an energetic Finale, introduced by an Adagio. The second, dedicated to the Contessina Giulietta Guicciardi, the supposed" unknown beloved " of romantic story, opens with the most popular movement in the whole of Beethoven's work, a piece daringly simple in form and played perpetually by every person able to lay hands upon a keyboard; yet we cannot choose but hear, even if it be for the hundredth or two hundredth time. It is sheer beauty. The gay and almost roguish Allegretto that follows has nevertheless real feeling; and the Presto, with its passionate turbulence and equally passionate calm, brings us back to the plane, if not to the mood, of the romantic opening. On the sentimental title perhaps the best comment is an unconsciously humorous note in the English translation of Schindler: "This Sonata is known in Austria by the inappropriate appellation of Moonshine Sonata.'" The fourth Sonata of this period (Op. 28) has earned its name of "Pastoral " from the " piping" that can be heard in each movement, beginning with a faint suggestion of "He shall feed his flock" in the first, and concluding with a rustic dance in the last. The piper was to pipe that song again in the Pastoral Symphony of seven years later.

It is with this Sonata that some would end Beethoven's first period, for Czerny reports (though many years later) that after writing this piece Beethoven declared his dissatisfaction with his early work and his resolve to find a "new path." There is, however, nothing specially new in the first of the three magnificent Sonatas forming Op. 31, dedicated later to Countess Browne. It is a strong and original work, but it is a development, not a novelty; and the third, though it has a powerful Scherzo and the merriest of last movements-Lopokova and Idzikowski have

danced to it has no indication of a new direction. The greatest of the three, No. 2, in D minor, may be called new, as we call Shakespeare's "Hamlet" new, old as the story was. In this Sonata, Beethoven first reveals the titanic power of which, so far, he had given but intimations. Here, indeed, are the whirlwind, and the fire, and even the still, small voice; for the gentle recitative passages, never before heard in a work of this kind, fall on the ear with exquisite power of appeal. The rich Adagio and the sonorous Finale are all in keeping with the note struck in the mysterious interrogation of the opening. The tragedy of impending deafness and the terrible cry from the sufferer's heart that we know as the "Heiligenstadt Will " belong to the period of this Sonata.

As our theme is the piano Sonatas, we must merely mention as milestones in the artist's life the "Prometheus" (or "Eroica") variations (Op. 35) and the Kreutzer Sonata for piano and violin (Op. 47), and come to the great series of Sonatas, the C major (Op. 53), known from its dedication as the "Waldstein," the F major (Op. 54), and the F minor, generally called the “ Appassionata (Op. 57). Between the last two came the Eroica Symphony (Op. 55) and the Triple Concerto (Op. 56), and, immediately after, the great Concerto in G (Op. 58), the three Rasumowsky Quartets (Op. 59), the Fourth Symphony (Op. 60) and the Violin Concerto (Op. 61). It would be hard to parallel this amazing group of compositions, most of them among the greatest of their kind. The majority of musical persons, asked to name Beethoven's two finest Sonatas, would put the "Appassionata" first and the "Waldstein " second. The choice can be highly applauded. In nobility of theme, in loftiness of style, and in grandeur of conception, the "Appassionata" is among man's greatest achievements. Moreover, high as it reaches, it never outsoars our grasp. The "Waldstein," with greater brilliance, has less depth; but it is a magnificent composition. Not the least admirable of its pages is the short but deeply significant Adagio introduction to the Rondo, substituted for a long movement (the familiar Andante in F) that originally stood there. In the Rondo, Beethoven makes his first striking use of the sustained trill that appears with such tremendous effect in the last Sonatas. It is the unhappy fate of the short Sonata, Op. 54, to stand between two giants, and to have no very striking

quality of its own. Its movement "in tempo d'un Menuetto" is not at all like a minuet, but a little recalls the plaintive cadences of "The Banks of Allan Water." Then follows a vigorous declamation that appears to be an octave study, till it fades into sixths and lesser intervals. The concluding Allegretto is a daringly brilliant piece, grateful to the player with touch and style. Op. 54, though little known, is a very fine piece of music.

The solo piano plays a comparatively small part in the compositions of the next two or three years, during which Beethoven was producing such works as the C minor and Pastoral Symphonies, "Fidelio," the Emperor Concerto, and the so-called "Harp "Quartet (Op. 74). Thus it happens that in the volume of Sonatas we pass from the great " Appassionata " (Op. 57) to the exquisite Sonata in F sharp (Op. 78), and thence to the Sonatina Op. 79, an odd little piece of which we know scarcely anything. Its three tiny movements (the last anticipating a familiar Chopin Study) are all very pretty, and within the range of a child's capacity. It is immediately followed in 1809 by one of Beethoven's most poetical inventions, the "Sonate Caractéristique," entitled "Les Adieux, l'Absence et le Retour" (Op. 81a), dedicated to the Archduke Rudolf, Beethoven's imperial friend and pupil, whose departure from Vienna during Napoleon's operations in the year of Wagram it commemorates. It begins with the word "Lebewohl " a phrase identical with the opening of the pseudo-Mozartian" Addio." This is Beethoven's one piece of declared "programme " music for the piano; and we may usefully remind ourselves that as the " programme" goes no further than three nouns and an adjective the labours of those for whom in every Sonata every movement tells a story should be firmly and even sternly discouraged. Great music is neither promoted nor, indeed, interpreted, by being attached to a piece of bad prose by a sentimental commentator.

The next Sonata however (Op. 90), belonging to 1814, has an unofficial programme, for Schindler tells us that Beethoven headed the first movement," Struggle between the mind and the heart," and the second, " Conversation with the beloved." This has reference to the love story of Moritz von Lichnowsky (brother of Beethoven's first princely patron), who was deeply attached to an actress and married her, in spite of family opposition. It is to him that the Sonata is dedicated, and it was to him that the