Franz Schubert: Piano Sonata I

Description

Schubert, Vienna, and the piano
Vienna at the turn of the nineteenth century was a polyglot, bustling capital where Italian opera and German song, church polyphony and salon music coexisted at close quarters. Unlike Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven—each drawn there from elsewhere—Franz Schubert (1797–1828) was Viennese by birth, raised in a schoolmaster’s household in the Himmelpfortgrund and educated at the Imperial City College. A choirboy at the Hofkapelle, he studied with Salieri, absorbed Mozart and Haydn from the college orchestra, and moved among a circle of literate, music-mad friends. That mix of cosmopolitan influence and local habit left a distinctive mark: a composer who thought lyrically yet wrote with structural daring; a native of Vienna for whom song, theatre and the domestic keyboard were natural, almost inseparable, idioms.
Though he first learnt the violin, the piano anchored Schubert’s creative life—from the teenage fantasy for piano duet (D. 1) to the three sonatas of September 1828 (D. 958–60). His sketchbooks reveal a mind composing as if at the keyboard: harmony voiced to sing, inner parts shaped like counter-melodies, textures “orchestrated” across registers. He could draw colour from the instrument with an imagination equal to Beethoven’s, even when the pianos at his disposal lacked the newest bass extensions. The cliché that his writing is “moderately difficult” is only half true: beside pages of pellucid, songful writing stand demands for stamina and control—and interpretative challenges of span, tonal perspective and silence.
Crucially, Schubert did not fashion himself as a touring virtuoso. He was, in his own estimation, a composer first, turning to the piano pragmatically: as a song accompanist, a four-hand partner at Schubertiaden, a purveyor of dances, even assissintg the musical events when needed. Salieri’s training in the kapellmeister’s improvisatory craft—contrapuntal, form-conscious, rigorous—took root in a private, educated milieu. Eyewitnesses recall multilevelled extemporisations: light waltzes spun for dancers while, around the keyboard, others listened to subtle inner workings; fantasies on Hungarian tunes that pleased popular taste yet satisfied learned ears. This habit was more than parlour flourish: it became a method of composition. Locally and structurally, Schubert’s harmony behaves like an improviser’s hand—gliding by mediant and submediant, opening remote doors with disarming naturalness—while his larger designs often fuse sonata’s discursiveness with variation’s memory. Development, here, frequently proceeds through varied repetition at several levels, so that what returns never merely repeats but remembers.
His audience and instruments matter, too. Post-Napoleonic Vienna prized its pianoforte culture; contemporary treatises, read alongside the scores, illuminate Schubert’s often understated notations of articulation and pedal. Meanwhile, Viennese pianos (c.1810–30) grew in compass and weight yet retained a bright attack and quick decay; the action enabled finely graded sonority, and the una corda could transform colour by shifting from three strings to one. Where Beethoven often marshalled such contrasts to articulate architecture, Schubert tends to use them to shade atmosphere and time—to veil and reveal, to let harmony bloom or recede as if the instrument itself were breathing.
Set against the era’s cult of public bravura, Schubert’s semi-public profile might seem a disadvantage. In practice it redirected his ambition. The sonatas and shorter pieces are less vehicles for display than essays in temporal form: paragraphs rather than aphorisms, where dance becomes argument and Lied becomes thought. Above all, they enlarge the room they are played in—music not asking us to marvel at prowess, but inviting us to dwell in tone, harmony and quiet revelation.
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Piano Sonata D. 557
In 1817, Franz Schubert was twenty years old at a turning point in his life, yet he was already astonishingly prolific. Having abandoned his short-lived work as an assistant in his father’s parish school, he decided to devote himself fully to music. The 1817 year was a year of exploration and experimentation, though he had not yet secured a publisher or the recognition that would come later. Schubert composed over a hundred works in the span of just twelve months, including piano sonatas, dances, chamber pieces, and more than sixty songs. It was a period of exploring musical styles: still under the influence of Mozart and Haydn, but increasingly finding a personal voice distinguished by lyricism, intimacy, and bold and unexpected harmonic color.
The Sonata in A major, D. 557, composed in May of 1817 year, and it belongs to this transitional moment. Unlike the monumental late sonatas, this work is modest in scale and character, and it shines with youthful freshness.
The first movement, Allegro moderato, opens with Classical poise. Clear textures and balanced phrases reflect the Classical tradition, recall Mozart. However, the melodic writing already breathes with Schubert’s natural gift for song. The Andante shifts to the key of D major and unfolds with an almost vocal simplicity and tender. Its gentle lyricism that tinged with intimacy and introspection, foreshadows the emotional world of his lieder. The finale, Allegro vivace, bursts in with rhythmic brilliance and playful energy. Its syncopations and sparkling runs propel the sonata toward a joyful close.

Piano Sonata D. 664
Two years later, in the summer of 1819, Schubert spent time in Steyr, a small Austrian town, seeking respite from the intensity of Vienna. During this stay, he met Josephine von Koller who was the host family’s eighteen-year-old daughter. Josephine made a strong impression on Schubert with her charm and pianistic skill. Scholars believe that he composed the Sonata in A major, D. 664, with her in mind. The work’s lyrical and intimate qualities suggest that Schubert may have been reflecting on his admiration for her while at a distance, and adding a personal emotion, almost contemplative layer to the music.
At twenty-one, Schubert was emerging from his early experiments in piano composition and exploring a more refined and expressive voice. The sonata reflects a balance between Classical clarity and the songlike lyricism that would define his mature style. The first movement, Allegro moderato, introduces a radiant theme that flows with natural elegance. Its melodic lines demand careful phrasing and subtle control to convey their full expressiveness even though deceptively simple. The Andante in D major provides contrast with calm introspection. Gentle harmonic shifts and quietly singing lines create a serene. They are almost conversational quality and are revealing Schubert’s growing sensitivity to tone and color. The final Allegro radiates charm and energy. Lively figurations and rhythmic sparkle carry the movement to a joyful and completing a sonata with witty close that feels effortless yet carefully crafted.
D. 664 is modest in scale but significant in its refinement. It captures a moment in Schubert’s development where technical mastery and emotional intimacy converge. The sonata offers listeners a window into the composer’s early lyrical genius, the personal sentiments of his life in 1819, and the graceful elegance that would characterize his later piano works.

Piano Sonata D. 960
Two years later, in the summer of 1819, Schubert spent time in Steyr, a small Austrian town, seeking respite from the intensity of Vienna. In 1828, Schubert was thirty-one and facing serious health challenges that left him weak and fatigued. Despite his condition, he remained remarkably productive, completing several major works including the late piano sonatas (D. 958, D. 959), the String Quintet in C major, and numerous songs.
The sonata was not published during Schubert’s lifetime. It appeared only after his death, giving later audiences the opportunity to discover one of his final and most introspective works. This context of mortality and reflection permeates the music, giving it a sense of serenity, lyricism, and profound emotional resonance.
The first movement, Molto moderato, opens with a spacious, contemplative theme. Its harmonies are rich yet understated, establishing a reflective atmosphere that draws listeners into Schubert’s late sound world. The development explores subtle contrasts between tension and repose, blending Classical clarity with deeply personal expression. The second movement, Andante sostenuto, is widely regarded as the emotional heart of the sonata. Long singing lines unfold over gently shifting harmonies, evoking melancholy tempered by a quiet, and contemplative acceptance over his life. Its vocal-like phrases suggest an intimate dialogue between memory and imagination. The Scherzo: Allegro vivace offers rhythmic energy and playful melodic gestures, but still maintains elegance and harmonic sophistication. The final movement, Allegro ma non troppo, closes the sonata with lyric warmth, gentle propulsion, and harmonic surprises, achieving a contemplative yet satisfying resolution. The G bass note creates a sense of being lost or unsettled, giving the music a searching, introspective character. As the movement progresses, the second theme unfolds like a Schubert song, flowing with lyrical warmth and providing a sense of resolution.
D. 960 combines formal mastery with deeply personal expression. It captures Schubert’s reflections on life, mortality, and artistry, balancing expansive musical architecture with intimate, songlike lyricism. Listeners encounter a work that is simultaneously tender, introspective, and transcendent, revealing the expressive voice of a composer confronting the fragility of life while leaving a timeless artistic legacy.