A sonata in D major, opus 120, is considerably shorter, but is even from the point of view of form less satisfactory. The first movement reveals one of Schubert’s great weaknesses. It happens here to be almost inconsiderable, but it is none the less evident. This is the lack of ideas in the treatment of the development section. There are nine measures which give the impression that Schubert was content to keep his music going with makeshifts. We have nothing of any significance, a series of octaves in the left hand answered by a series in the right, and a full chord at the beginning of each measure, whereby a desired modulation from the key of C-sharp minor to that of A major is accomplished.
This is bare music. The passage is so short that it hardly mars the movement seriously, but unhappily other movements are nearly destroyed by the weakness at which this one hints. For example, the first movement of a sonata in A minor, opus 143, which contains themes that are truly inspired, breaks hopelessly adrift in the development section. The section is fatally long, too. And what does it offer to hold our interest? Only measure after measure of an unvaried dotted rhythm, for the most part in the right hand over chords which may be beautiful but are seemingly without any aim. Schubert either does not know what to do or he is utterly lost in dreaming.
This is real tragedy in music, the ruin of most beautiful ideas by a fatal weakness. The opening theme promises even more than that of the earlier sonata in the same key. It is most mysterious, most suggestive, the very best of Schubert. And the second theme is of unearthly beauty. But in this weak movement both are lost, both thrown away. The whole sonata suffers in consequence. The andante is not especially noteworthy, but the scherzo is a masterpiece, not only of expression, but of workmanship; and so is the final rondo.
Similarly, the sonata in B-flat major, written not long before he died, falls into a heap of ruins. The first theme of the first movement is matchless in beauty. Schubert is loth to leave it, we are loth to have it go. A strange melody in F-sharp minor does for a second theme, and this simply rambles on through sudden changes of harmony until it reaches the key of F major, only to give way to measure after measure of equally aimless wandering, with only figures to save the music from amorphousness. Note then a closing theme of perfect beauty! Play it with all tenderness, with all the delicate suggestion you can put into it, and still even this first section of the music is long and overbalanced. There is a wealth of poetry in it, even a great depth of feeling and a heart-moving sadness. It seems a sacrilege to decry it; yet there it stands, frustrate.
The development section is what one would expect, weak in structure. Yet the second part of it is strangely moving, from the establishment of the key of D minor to the return of the first theme. The life of the music seems held in suspense. There is only a steady hushed tapping of triads, measure after measure, swaying from D minor to F major and ever back again, with reminiscences of the rambling measures in F major of the first section, floating here and there like mist in a dull rain. Strains of the first theme drift by, there are low muffled trills on D. Finally, the tapping ceases, as rain might cease; a quiet scale, like drops from the branches of some wet tree, falls to a low trill, and, after a silence, the first theme comes back into the music.
One can hardly find sadder or more beautiful music than these measures, or than the lovely first theme; and yet the movement is strangely without form and void. The andante which follows it is overdrawn. The repetitions of the sections in A major might have been omitted to better effect; but there is no looseness of structure. The music is unspeakably sad, with the sadness of the songs of the Winterreise. The scherzo is flawless, the final rondo long but well sustained. Yet, by reason of the aimlessness of long measures in the first movement, the sonata as a whole is like a condemned building. And in this sonata, too, there is an intensity of mood that, except for the last movement, should succeed in welding the whole group together. Even the last movement is not entirely independent.
What is most lamentable in all this is that Schubert poured much of his most inspired music into the sonatas. Little of his music presents more intrinsically beautiful material. In no other of his pianoforte pieces did he show such a wide and varied control of the technical possibilities of the instrument. Yet all would seem to be of little or no avail. Many of the most precious of his poetic fancies lie buried in these imperfect works.
Though Schubert was not a virtuoso, he displayed instinct for and ingenuity in devising pianoforte effects. In the huge ‘Wanderer Fantasy,’ opus 15, he seems to have set himself the task of awakening the greatest possible resonance of the instrument. The big chords and arpeggios in the first movement are not, however, overpoweringly effective. The variations in the second are more successful. They certainly look impressive on the printed page, and the sound of the climax is gigantic. But the stupendous is not natural to Schubert on the whole. He is more of a poet than a virtuoso. The first movement and the scherzo of the sonata in D major, opus 53, are big in effect. The spacing and rhythm in the piu lento section of the first movement has been pointed out by Heuberger as significant. The vigorous first subject of the scherzo can make the piano ring. But in general Schubert shows at his best as regards pianoforte writing in more delicate measures, and in brilliant rather than massive and sonorous effects. The last movement of the sonata in A major, opus 120, is a good example of a piquant style of which he was master. Here the long scales terminating in chords high up on the keyboard are quite dazzling.
He was not especially original in accompaniment figures. One finds a great deal of mediocre Alberti-bass stuff. On the other hand, he is a master in weaving a more subtle sort of arabesque about his melodies, or over or below them. One sees this not far from the beginning of the adagio movement of the big fantasy opus 15, in the ornamentation of the Fantasia, opus 27, and in the Trio of the Scherzo in opus 147. The closing measures of the first section of the first movement of this sonata are very like Chopin. There are many passages of excellent free writing for the instrument, such as the C major section of the allegretto in opus 164. This, and, in another way, the second section of the minuet in opus 122, are very like passages in the Schumann Carnaval. On the whole his treatment of the pianoforte is more delicate and more distinguished than Weber’s.
Dr. Oskar Bie has remarked wisely in his history of pianoforte music that to one who has not a soft touch the beauties of Schubert’s music will not be revealed. It is particularly in lovely, veiled passages that he excels. Except for the final rondo almost all of the sonata in B-flat major to which we have referred is to be played very nearly pianissimo. The poetic and generous Schumann felt that in certain parts of the andante of the great C major symphony, a spirit from heaven might be walking through the orchestra, to which the instruments would seem to be listening. There are many passages in the pianoforte music which suggest such ghostly visitations, which whisper far more than speak. And in such places Schubert’s scoring will be found to be matchless, as delicate as Chopin’s, though less complicated.