One may take the sonata in A-flat, opus 110, for analysis. The first movement, in very simple triplex form, is seemingly complete in itself. Yet there is something mystical and visionary about it. The two themes out of which it is constructed seem to float in the air; but there is suggestion in the transitional sections and in the development sections of inchoate forces in the deep. The whole movement rather whispers than speaks. It is a mystery. There follows immediately an allegro in F minor, a harsh presentment, as it were, of human energy spent for naught. There are snatches of a trivial, popular song; there is a trio made up of one long, down-hill run, repeated over and over again, coming down only to be tossed high again by a sharply accented chord; a restless agitation throughout, ironical, even cynical. The end comes suddenly with crashing chords out of time, and, finally, a quick breathing out, as if the whole vanished in air. It is an extraordinary movement, seeming instantaneous. One is amazed and bewildered after it. Then comes a passage in the character of recitative. The whole mood becomes intensely sorrowful, grief-stricken, tragic. A melody full of anguish mounts up, the cry of bitter hopelessness, endless suffering. It ceases and is followed by a silence. Out of this rises in single notes, _pianissimo_, a voice, as it were, of hope and strength. It is woven into a fugue as if in only such discipline were there promise of victory, not for Beethoven alone, but for the human race. The fugue rises to a climax, but only to be broken off by an abrupt and boding modulation. Once again the anguished voice is heard, now broken with weariness (_ermattend_, in Beethoven’s own expression). The section is in G minor. When the melody ceases the music seems to beat faintly on in single notes. Suddenly there is a soft chord of G major. The effect is one of the most beautiful Beethoven ever conceived. And then the chords follow each other, swelling to great force. Hushed at first, the fugue speaks again. This time the melody is inverted. Extraordinary mastery of the science of music is now brought to bear upon weaving a fitting and glorious ending to the great work. The fugue subject in its original intervals is employed in diminution as a background of counterpoint against which the same subject, in augmentation, rises into greater and greater prominence. The music gains in strength. It mounts higher and higher; at last it seems to blaze in triumph. Here is a sonata which seems to have an organic life. The whole work is not only expressive of varied and powerful emotions, it seems to build itself out of the conflict that goes on between them. One is hardly conscious in listening that it may be divided into movements. One hears the unfolding of a single mighty work. And in this case, be it noted, the effect has little to do with thematic relationships between the various movements.