Schumann’s Piano Sonata in F-sharp minor, Op. 11

Schumann’s Piano Sonata in F-sharp minor, Op. 11

This piece was written in Leipzig in 1835 when Schumann was 25 years old and is dedicated to his wife Clara Wieck, as evidenced by the inscription, “To Clara, from Florestan and Eusebius.” Listening to the first movement is rather exhilarating. The work is divided into separate sections and begins with a fiery burst of passionate energy (Un poco Adagio) propelling towards a fermata. The second section (Allegro vivace) expands that energy further and introduces the characteristics of both Eusebius and Florestan, the imaginary figures Schumann himself created. The first eleven measures of this section, for instance, demonstrate the qualities of Eusebius. By contrast, the emphasis on the lively fandango-type rhythm clearly exhibits characteristics of Florestan. Interestingly, in comparing the sonata-form in this movement to those studied in my Classical Literature class last semester, I discovered that the conventional repeat of the classical tradition is not used, just as the overall structure of this movement is somewhat lacking in the solidity customarily found within the classical tradition. Instead, Schumann introduces sudden leaps, chords, and syncopated rhythms, sparking a conversation between registers, and many other components that convey a sense of impulsiveness. Most importantly, the movement maintains a galloping continuity without much in the way of preparation or contrast.

The second movement comes across as serenely singable (implying a more Eusebian nature) and is beautifully performed by the artist Franz Vorraber (from Naxos). It has a particularly calming effect, in part, because it is short and in ternary ABA form. Interestingly, in section B, the key changes from A major to the flattened submediant of F major. It seems that Schumann is more interested in diving straight into this new key rather than modulating to it, as are most classical composers. I, myself, who has never listened to these sonatas before, found a few compositional techniques similar to the ones used in the first movement, such as the contrast between different registers (something akin to a dialogue between a woman (section A) and a man (Section B) seems to take place), the wide intervals, and the use of accompanimental patterns that often include chords, arpeggio-like figures, and octaves.

The Scherzo definitely contains more traits of Florestan than Eusebius. The dotted rhythm and off-beat sforzandos create a high-spirited atmosphere. The second section (Piu Allegro), as in previous movements, once again contains a dialogue between two different voices, this time between a soprano and an alto voice. Melodically, Schumann makes the third beats sound like accented first beats by using ties, possibly with the intention of generating an atmosphere of playful teasing. The reason I say this is related to the particular pattern in this section, where each voice sings its part, followed by the two singing in unisons, as if reaching an agreement. This pattern makes me want to compare this characteristic to other classical composers’ theme derivations. Haydn and Mozart’s are mostly motivic; Beethoven’s are also motivic, using motivic fragments and later expanding upon the sonata form with other forms, such as fugues and variations, among others; Schubert’s themes are mostly derived from songs. Perhaps the way in which to distinguish Schumann’s sonatas from these composers is to examine how voices react to each other. But this is just an idea

. The singing in unison is followed by the Intermezzo, in which the mood drastically changes, removing the previous cutesy-bubbly character entirely ;(. As a listener, it actually took me quite some time to get used to the change, not only in mood but also, to the slower harmonic rhythm. It almost seems as though something were distracted by several accented notes. The few measures before the main idea returns are what I pay most attention to, in large part because of its sudden change to an F-natural tonality as well as the orchestral color (ad libitum scherzando; quasi oboe), which makes use of several fermatas and improvisatory-like figures to vary the steady rhythm.

The finale appears to attempt to sum up the work in its entirety. It reminds the listener of the first movement with its various similar rhythmic figures in particular. However, comparing the final section to the other movements leads me to regard this movement as being in turmoil due to the inclusion of an excessive number of themes. Although all of the ideas used in this movement are splendid, in my estimation, it seems as though he is trying very hard to make the movement sound ‘grand.’ This idea makes me look back on how many large-form pieces he had written before this piece in order to see if this over-inclusion of themes may be due to his inexperience with larger forms. I found that he had indeed only composed two prior to this piece, namely Piano Quartet in C minor and Symphony in G minor, Op. 8. I hope none of you takes offense at this. I love Schumann’s works dearly, but listening to this particular movement really makes my head spin. The word ‘bewildering’ pretty much sums up my feelings about this section. Then again, didn’t the article we read on Tuesday say that “the Romantic was apt to find contemporary society bewildering and decadent and was often unwilling or unable to cope with reality, he turned not infrequently to exoticism or indulged in a reverence for the past” (Riedel 6)? Something to think about, I suppose.