Martinkus Caitlin 201711 PHD Thesis PDF

The Urge to Vary: Schubert’s Variation Practice from
Schubertiades to Sonata Forms
by
Caitlin G. Martinkus
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements
for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
Faculty of Music
University of Toronto
© Copyright by Caitlin Martinkus 2017
The Urge to Vary:
Schubert’s Variation Practice from Schubertiades to Sonata Forms
Caitlin G. Martinkus
Doctor of Philosophy, Music Theory
Faculty of Music
University of Toronto
2017
Abstract
Repetition has long been a focal point of both critiques and scholarly inquiries of Schubert’s
instrumental music. Casting repetition as redundant, critics condemned his instrumental music—
especially those works in sonata forms—throughout the majority of the nineteenth- and twentieth-
centuries. Recently, variation has emerged as a fruitful lens for the analysis of repetition in
Schubert’s sonata forms. Building upon this notion, I further illuminate the role of variation (as a set
of techniques, musical processes, and form) in Schubert’s idiom. To develop an analytical framework
tailored to the analysis of variation, I establish why variation would be so prominent in Schubert’s
oeuvre, and how it is employed.
I lay the conceptual and analytical framework of the dissertation in Chapters 1 and 2.
Chapter 1 establishes the centrality of repetition to discourse on Schubert and, through a thorough
consideration of Schubert’s musical-social life, establishes the relevance of variation beyond
composition. I also consider current tools of Formenlehre analysis, and situate my use of William
Caplin’s theory of formal functions as a supplement to analyses of variation. Chapter 2 investigates
idiomatic variation techniques. These techniques, set against the backdrop of Schubert’s musical
training and practice, form the variation perspective that guides my analyses of sonata forms.
In Chapters 3 and 4 I analyze the interaction between elements of variation and sonata form.
I create my own analytical tools, including the concepts of embedded versus distributed variations,
and tight-knit versus loose variation procedures, to demonstrate the presence of variation within and
ii
across large-scale units of musical form. Three full-movement case studies highlight Schubert’s use
of variation (techniques and form) across expositions, developments, and recapitulations. Most
pronounced in these analyses is Schubert’s use of variation in development sections. I thus close my
analytical chapters by problematizing the binary opposition between thematic development and
variation, for it is a distinction that lies at the heart of many critiques of Schubert’s sonata forms.
Ultimately, this study reveals the many and nuanced ways in which elements of variation permeate
Schubert’s oeuvre through a unique analytical framework, and situates Schubert’s sonata forms
within the ever-evolving historical trajectory of the genre.
iii
Acknowledgments
I have been fortunate to receive the support, both scholarly and otherwise, of many people
throughout my tenure at the University of Toronto: to them I am forever grateful. The path to
completion was more long and winding than straight and narrow, and I would like to extend a
heartfelt thank-you those who made the seemingly insurmountable task of writing a dissertation
possible. First and foremost I would like to express my gratitude to Professor Steven Vande
Moortele, who served as my advisor and mentor in matters of both graduate-school and life. I will
sorely miss having regular access to his prodigious music-analytical mind, and having someone of his
caliber go through my work with a fine-tooth comb. I will also miss receiving his “track changes”—
from pithy commentary to serious insights, getting chapter drafts back with his comments in the
margins for the past five years was truly a treat.
The other members of my committee, each of whom brought a unique perspective that
enriched my project, also deserve many thanks. Professor Ryan McClelland’s knowledge of
nineteenth-century music—sonata-form practice in particular—was invaluable, as was his attention
to detail. Although he might not agree with all of my (occasionally outlandish) analyses, I knew that
if I could convince him of the validity of an interpretation then I was not completely out to lunch. I
cannot thank Professor Joshua Pilzer enough for guiding this particular music theorist’s foray into
the realm of the musical every-day. The analytical framework of this dissertation is largely indebted
to meetings with him. Professor Ellen Lockhart similarly helped guide my inquiry into nineteenth-
century musical life and culture, and her role on the committee was instrumental for it. Professor
Julian Horton, the external reader for this project, offered numerous keen insights. His questions,
both theoretical and analytical, illuminated aspects of the dissertation I had not fully realized existed.
These acknowledgements would not be complete without mentioning the importance of my
colleagues, and their influence on my development as both a scholar and human being. My cohort
(the “bro-hort”), Rebekah Lobosco-Gilli, Patrick Nickleson, Yun Emily Wang, Edward Wright, and
September Russell—are incredible human beings. This group of smart, caring, and dedicated
individuals/intellectuals influenced every stage of this project, from its (my) infancy in PhD seminar
to the final product as it stands today. Not only have they have edited multiple versions of every
chapter, but they have also been the best of friends. I am also deeply indebted to the insights of
Vivian Luong, on both music theory and life, offered freely and often (thanks to Skype). It means
the world to know that as we both move forward in the field, and off to wherever the future has in
store, we will always be a part of each other’s lives and careers.
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Finally, I must thank my husband, copy editor, and overall source of (unfailing)
encouragement, Scott Hanenberg. For doing the most hands-on work—wading through (very)
rough drafts—to being a constant source of moral support, I am forever grateful, and I look
forward to returning the favour. That Scott has been by my side from the very beginning of this
journey has made its completion not only conceivable, but also achievable. I have thoroughly
enjoyed the time we have spent together and the life we have built while in Toronto, and I look
forward to sharing the years to come.
v
Table of Contents
Abstract ............................................................................................................................................................. ii
Acknowledgements........................................................................................................................................ iv
List of Examples ........................................................................................................................................... viii
List of Tables ................................................................................................................................................... xi
List of Figures ................................................................................................................................................. xii
Introduction ...................................................................................................................................................... 1
Chapter Outline .................................................................................................................................. 4
I. Schubert’s Repetitions: from the Literature to Analysis ........................................................................ 8
Repetition in Schubert’s Reception History ................................................................................... 8
Analyzing Variation: From Variation Techniques to Formal Functions ................... 19
Contextualizing Analysis: Variation in Schubert’s Musical-Social Life .................................... 22
(Musical) Social Life: From the Salons of Schubert and Sonnleithner to
Schubertiades ...................................................................................................................... 27
II. Theme-and-Variation Form .................................................................................................................... 36
Variation Form in the Literature: Historical Context ................................................................. 38
Variation Form in the Literature: Modern-day Scholarship ...................................................... 41
Analysis: Variation Techniques in Variation Form ..................................................................... 47
Variation Themes ............................................................................................................... 49
Variation(s) .......................................................................................................................... 55
Rhythmic Variation .............................................................................................. 57
Contrapuntal Techniques .................................................................................... 61
Harmonic Variation .............................................................................................. 65
Cyclical Procedures ............................................................................................... 70
III. Variation in Schubert’s Sonata Forms ................................................................................................. 80
Sonata Form: Adolf Bernhard Marx and the Legacy of Development ................................... 80
Analysis: Variation Techniques in Sonata Form ......................................................................... 84
Variation as Compositional Technique ........................................................................... 85
Embedded Variations ........................................................................................................ 96
D. 887/i .................................................................................................................. 97
D. 944/i, Introduction ....................................................................................... 102
D. 956/i ................................................................................................................ 107
D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme Complex ......................................................... 111
vi
D. 810/i ................................................................................................................ 117
Distributed Variations...................................................................................................... 122
D. 944/i ................................................................................................................ 122
D. 887/i ................................................................................................................ 124
IV: Case Studies: The Last Three Piano Sonatas .................................................................................... 134
D. 958/i ........................................................................................................................................... 135
Main Theme: Distributed Variations ............................................................................. 136
Subordinate Theme: Theme Complex as Variation Set ............................................. 142
Development Section as Variation Set .......................................................................... 147
D. 959/i ........................................................................................................................................... 152
Main Theme ...................................................................................................................... 153
Subordinate Theme .......................................................................................................... 157
Development Section as Variation Set .......................................................................... 161
D. 960/i ........................................................................................................................................... 163
Main Theme ...................................................................................................................... 164
Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme Group.................................................................... 167
Recapitulation.................................................................................................................... 174
Development ..................................................................................................................... 175
Conclusion .................................................................................................................................................... 182
Bibliography .................................................................................................................................................. 186
vii
List of Examples
2.1: D. 968A, Theme (mm. 1–8).................................................................................................................. 51
2.2: D. 845/ii, Theme (mm. 1–33) ............................................................................................................. 52
2.3: D. 823/ii, Theme (mm. 1–4, 9–12) ..................................................................................................... 53
2.4A: D. 813, Theme (mm. 1–4) As-Written and Re-Barred .................................................................. 54
2.4B: D. 813, Theme (mm. 1–4) As-Written and Re-Barred .................................................................. 54
2.5: D. 624, Theme (mm. 1–3) and Variation 1 (mm. 17–20) ................................................................ 58
2.7: D. 125/ii, Theme (mm. 1–2) and Variation 1 (mm. 18–19) ............................................................ 59
2.10: D. 968A, Beginning Four Bars of Theme and Variations 1–3 ...................................................... 61
2.11: D. 576, Variation 11 (mm. 184–91) .................................................................................................. 62
2.12: D. 802, Variation 2 (mm. 60–63) ....................................................................................................... 62
2.13: D. 576, Finale (mm. 266–81) .............................................................................................................. 63
2.14: D. 624, Variation 4 (mm. 65–68) ....................................................................................................... 64
2.15: D. 935/iii, Variation 4 (mm. 81–86).................................................................................................. 65
2.16: D. 803/iv, Variation 3 (mm. 58–60).................................................................................................. 65
2.17: D. 908, Theme (mm. 1–8) and Variation 6 (mm. 149–56) ............................................................ 68
2.18: D. 813, Theme (mm. 1–2, 7–8, 21–22) ............................................................................................. 69
2.19: D. 803/iv, End of Variation 5 into 6 (mm. 104–5) ........................................................................ 69
2.20: D. 845/ii, Variations 3 and 4 (mm. 102–5) ...................................................................................... 70
2.21: D. 935/iii, Theme (mm. 3–4) and Variation 2 (mm. 37) ............................................................... 71
2.22: D. 810/ii, Variation 2 (mm. 49–50) ................................................................................................... 71
2.23: D. 802, Variations 2 (mm. 60–63) and 4 (110–13) .......................................................................... 72
2.24A: D. 823/ii, Variation 1 (mm. 1–2) .................................................................................................... 73
2.24B: D. 823/ii, Variation 2 (mm. 33–34) ................................................................................................ 73
2.24C: D. 823/ii, Variation 3 (mm. 49–50) ................................................................................................ 74
2.24D: D. 823/ii, Variation 4 (mm. 65–66) ............................................................................................... 74
2.25: Variation techniques in D. 810/ii, Theme (mm. 1–24) .................................................................. 76
3.1 D. 894/i, Subordinate Theme, Melodic Gradatio (mm. 27–28, mm. 37–38) .................................. 85
3.2: D. 956/i, Subordinate Theme, Contrapuntal Techniques (mm. 100–104) ................................... 86
3.3: D. 759/i, Development (mm. 114–26) ............................................................................................... 87
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3.4A: D. 810/i, Large-Scale Continuation ⇒ TR1 (mm. 82–84)............................................................ 88
3.4B: D. 810/i, TR2 as Variation of TR1 (mm. 90–91) ........................................................................... 88
3.5: D. 956/i, Pitch Reharmonization (mm. 58–60) ................................................................................. 90
3.6: D. 759/i, Transition and Beginning of Subordinate Theme (mm. 38–42).................................... 91
3.7: D. 759/i, Pitch Reharmonization in Exposition (mm. 19–20, 37–38, 88–90) ............................. 92
3.8: D. 944/i, Development, Pre-Core into Core (mm. 278–81) ........................................................... 92
3.9: D. 887/i, Repurposed Material (mm. 201–3, 210–13, 292–95) ...................................................... 93
3.10A: D. 956/i, Main Theme, (mm. 1–6) ................................................................................................. 95
3.10B: D. 956/i, Repurposed Material in Main Theme (mm. 31–33) ................................................... 95
3.11: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Theme (mm. 1–8)............................................................. 103
3.12: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 9–16) ................................................... 104
3.13: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Recomposition of the Theme ........................................ 105
3.14: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 29–31) ................................................. 105
3.16: D. 956/i, Variation Theme, Antecedent Phrase (mm. 60–65) .................................................... 108
3.17: D. 956/i, Formal Functions in Variation 2 (mm. 100–113) ........................................................ 110
3.18: D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations (mm. 134–43) ........................................................ 113
3.19: D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 150–56)................................... 114
3.21: D. 810/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation Theme (mm. 61–67) .......................... 118
3.22: D. 810/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 71–73) ..................................... 119
3.23: D. 810/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 102–5) ..................................... 120
3.25: D. 944/i, Distributed Variations (mm. 78–85 and 94-98) ........................................................... 123
3.26: D. 944/i, Distributed Variations (mm. 254–59) ............................................................................ 123
3.27: D. 887/i, Introduction as Variations, (mm. 1–14, 33–43) ........................................................... 125
3.29: D. 887/i, Introduction as Variations, Variation 7 (mm. 333–36) ............................................... 128
3.30: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Theme (mm. 15–18) ........................................................ 129
3.31: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 24–27) ................................................. 130
3.32: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 180–89) ............................................... 131
3.33: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 3 (mm. 201–10) ............................................... 131
3.34: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 4 (mm. 292–301) ............................................. 132
ix
3.35: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 5 (mm. 301–310) ............................................. 132
4.1: Passacaglia in Beethoven, WoO 80 (mm. 1–8) ................................................................................ 136
4.2: D. 958/i, Main Theme (mm. 1–10) ................................................................................................... 137
4.3: D. 958/i, Variation 1, Transition (mm. 21–31) ............................................................................... 138
4.4: D. 958/i, End of Development into Recap (mm. 150–61) ........................................................... 140
4.5: D. 958/i, Main Theme Variation 2, Recapitulation (mm. 160–71) .............................................. 141
4.6: D. 958/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Theme (mm. 39–53) .............................................. 143
4.7: D. 958/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 54–58) ....................................... 145
4.8: D. 958/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 67–72) ....................................... 146
4.9: D. 958/i, Repurposing Material (m. 103) ......................................................................................... 148
4.10: D. 958/i, Development Variations (mm. 118–24) ........................................................................ 149
4.11: D. 958/i, Development as Variations (mm. 124–33) ................................................................... 150
4.12: D. 958/i, Development as Variations (mm. 142–52) ................................................................... 151
4.13: D. 959/i, Main Theme (mm. 1–26) ................................................................................................. 154
4.14: D. 959/i, Main Theme ⇒ Transition (mm. 24–36) ...................................................................... 156
4.15: D. 959/i, A′ in Recapitulation (mm. 200–206) .............................................................................. 157
4.16: D. 959/i, Variation in Subordinate Theme (mm. 55–72) ............................................................ 158
4.17: D. 959/i, Development as Variations, Theme (mm. 130b–40) .................................................. 162
4.18A: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 9–13) .................................................. 165
4.18B: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 20–23) ................................................ 165
4.19: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 26–36) ................................................... 166
4.20: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme (mm. 48–58) ......................................................... 168
4.21: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme (mm. 57–73) ......................................................... 170
4.22: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme, basic idea variants ............................................... 171
4.23: D. 960/i, Subordinate Theme Two (mm. 80–81, 86–87) ............................................................ 173
4.24: D. 960/i, Recapitulation, A′ Variation (mm. 254–55) .................................................................. 174
4.25: D. 960/i, Variation in Development, Repurposing (mm. 118b–31) .......................................... 176
4.26: D. 960/i, Variation in Development (mm. 148–63) ..................................................................... 178
4.27: 960/i, Development, Variations of Main Theme (mm. 188–97) ................................................ 179
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List of Tables
2.1: Schubert’s Theme-and-Variation Sets ................................................................................................. 48
2.2: Variation Techniques by Organizational Level.................................................................................. 56
2.3: Harmonic Plans in Off-Tonic Variations ........................................................................................... 66
4.1: D. 960/i, Main Theme as both Small Ternary and Theme and Variation .................................. 164
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List of Figures
3.1: D. 887/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations....................................................................................... 99
3.2: Form Diagram, D. 944/i Introduction (mm. 1–77) ....................................................................... 102
3.3: D. 956/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations..................................................................................... 108
4.1: D. 958/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations..................................................................................... 142
4.2: D. 959/i, Nesting Formal Units in Subordinate Theme’s (Loose) Small Ternary ..................... 160
5.1: Summary of Major Themes ................................................................................................................ 183
xii
-Introduction-
Scholars of Franz Schubert’s instrumental music have long felt pressured to justify their affinity for,
and subsequent investigations of, this particular repertoire. The urge to defend Schubert is
understandable given the tepid, and at times dismissive, reception of his instrumental
compositions—especially those in sonata form. Compounding the problem are analyses that frame
differences between Schubert’s sonata forms and theories of musical form as compositional faults,
or failures. Complaints of this ilk, published in both academic and popular presses, abound in
nineteenth- and twentieth-century literature on Schubert and his sonata forms.1 Thus, throughout
Schubert’s reception history the friction between musical work and analytical method has resulted in
the marginalization of both the man (as a composer of instrumental works) and his compositions (in
sonata form) for over a century. As Julian Horton notes, such “perceptions of structural inadequacy
invoke the authority of an ideal type, which is validated through reference to a benchmark
repertory”—a repertoire from which Schubert was, for many years, conspicuously absent.2
The consistent othering of Schubert’s sonata forms was due, in large part, to the rise of
organicist aesthetics in the nineteenth century, combined with the championing of the sonata forms
of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (especially those from Beethoven’s middle period). With the
crystallization of sonata form as a teleological, goal-directed, and organically unified entity, the lyrical
and repetitive characteristics of Schubert’s compositions stand in stark contrast. As Scott Burnham
notes in summarizing Adorno’s seminal essay on Schubert, many qualities of Schubert’s sonata
forms are in conflict with the mores of the formal genre: “Schubert’s themes are self-possessed
apparitions of truth rather than inchoate ideas that require temporal evolution; his repetitive,
fragmentary forms are inorganic rather than organic, crystalline rather than plantlike.”3 Above all, it
is Schubert’s treatment of repetition in sonata forms that emerged as a critical point of weakness.
1 For more on this, see Chapter 1.

2 Julian Horton, “John Field and the Alternative History of Concerto First-Movement Form,” Music & Letters 92, no. 1
(2011), 45.
3 Theodor W. Adorno, “Schubert,” trans. by Wieland Hoban in Night Music: Essays on Music 1928–1962, ed. Rolf
Tiedemann (Calcutta, India: Seagull Books, 2009); Scott Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth: Schubert
and the Burden of Repetition,” 19th-Century Music 29, no. 1 (Summer 2005), 40. Various terms have been employed to pit
Schubert’s practice against the status quo (with regards to sonata form), e.g., feminine vs. masculine, poetic vs. prosaic.
Perhaps the most noteworthy of these discussions led to rampant speculation about Schubert’s sexual orientation in the
late 1990s. Prominent contributions to this conversation include Maynard Solomon, “Franz Schubert and the Peacocks
of Benvenuto Cellini,” 19th-Century Music 12, no. 3 (1989); Rita Steblin, “The Peacock’s Tale: Schubert’s Sexuality
Reconsidered,” 19th-Century Music 17, no. 1 (1993); Susan McClary, “Constructions of Subjectivity in Franz Schubert’s
Music,” in Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and Lesbian Musicology, ed. Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood and Gary C. Thomas
(New York: Routledge, 1994). For another perspective on the (ir)relevance of Schubert’s sexual orientation to music
analysis, see Kofi Agawu, “Schubert’s Sexuality: A Prescription for Analysis?,” 19th-Century Music 17, no. 1 (1993).
1
2
From the earliest days of Schubert’s reception history, (excessive) repetition comes to the
fore as perhaps the most commented upon aspect of the composer’s instrumental music. Repetition
is especially problematic with regards to sonata forms, for there are set expectations for when and
how thematic material should be repeated; in comparison, Schubert’s compositions break from the
mold. According to critics, they repeat too much, too often, scarcely develop thematic material—
and in so doing, fail. Such critics were not reticent to point out these shortcomings, and in so doing
established a tradition of faulting Schubert’s repetitions in sonata forms.4 Consider, for example, the
following remarks by Henry Heathcote Stratham, published in 1883:
[Sonata form demands] something more than beautiful melodies. A grasp of the whole
materials as subordinate to one complete design must be evident; the constituent elements of
the composition must be linked together as parts of an organic whole, presented in new and
varied combinations, so as to bring out all their latent expressiveness as well as their
harmonic or contrapuntal relationship … [In Schubert’s sonata forms] lovely melodies
follow each other, but nothing comes of them; or he repeats an idea without apparent aim or
purpose beyond the wish to spin out the composition to a certain orthodox length.5
Perceptions of structural inadequacy in Schubert’s sonata forms, as manifest in publications by
critics such as Stratham, continued to reinscribe Schubert’s marginalized position as a composer of
instrumental music.
To avoid perpetuating the notion that Schubert’s repetitions are incompatible with sonata
forms, recent scholarship considers Schubert on his own terms. To accomplish this, many scholars
adopt alternative modes of discourse. 6 Regardless of the interpretive or analytical framework
employed, a concern for repetition and ways to frame it positively remains central to many
discussions of Schubert’s idiom. A common thread emerging in these analyses is the presence of
variation in Schubert’s sonata forms. For example, consider the concept of parataxis (or paratactic
construction), now one of the more common descriptors of Schubert’s treatment of repetition: this
term, adapted by Elaine R. Sisman from the study of sentence structures (in linguistics), serves as the
literary correlate to additive musical forms. For Sisman, the Classical theme-and-variation set
epitomizes paratactic construction in music.7 Thus, scholars identifying such paratactic constructions
in Schubert’s sonata forms are (often tacitly) acknowledging and highlighting the similarities between
4 I discuss this tradition in greater detail in Chapter 1.

5 Henry Heathcote Stratham, in The Edinburgh Review 158, no. 324 (October 1883), 267. I consider other critiques from
this same publication in greater detail in Chapter 1.
6 This is due in large part to latent biases in analytical methodologies, which I discuss in greater detail in Chapter 3.
7 Elaine R. Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University press, 1993). For more on
studies of parataxis in Schubert’s sonata forms, see Chapter 1.

3
Schubert’s structures of repetition in sonata form, and those more commonly associated with
theme-and-variation form.8 Building on such scholarship, this dissertation further pursues the role of
variation in Schubert’s idiom, for it offers a fruitful perspective for studying the treatment of
repetition in Schubert’s sonata forms.
Before outlining the contents of this dissertation, two aspects of my analytical framework
bear consideration. The first is the larger context of my analyses: my analyses privilege elements of
variation as key components of Schubert’s idiomatic compositional style, not only because they
permeate his sonata forms, but also because he regularly engaged with variation (techniques,
processes, and form) in other aspects of his musical life.9 I thus adopt a composer-specific approach
in order to establish stylistic norms with regards to Schubert’s oeuvre.10 In a composer-specific
approach, analysts establish norms and deformations through analyzing the entire output of one
composer.11 This contrasts with the dialogic model of James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s sonata
theory, in which the choices made by a composer are compared against “a background set of
guidelines shared by composers and a community of listeners at a given historical time and place.”12
“Normative procedures” are thus derived from an analytical corpus comprising late-eighteenth-
century sonatas.13 Problems can arise from a purely genre-based approach: for example, something
that is normative within a composer’s oeuvre can be mislabeled as deformational (when compared
against the genre writ large). What is more, few studies look beyond the genre of sonata form. A
familiarity with Schubert’s musical life is, I argue, necessary in order to make claims about what is or
8 E.g., Su Yin Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms and the Poetics of the Lyric,” Journal of Musicology 23 (2006) and Schubert’s
Lyricism Reconsidered: Structure, Design and Rhetoric (Saarbrücken: Lambert, 2010).
9 This contrasts with other approaches, which typically align the aesthetics evoked through Schubert’s use of repetition
in sonata forms with historically contemporaneous practices in other art forms (e.g., poetry or painting). For example,
Mak aligns paratactic constructions in Schubert’s sonata forms with the treatment of repetition in lyric poetry:
“Schubert’s approach to form was as much informed by these literary sensibilities as by the Classical compositional
tradition. Like poets for whom the lyric served both as an Arcadian ideal of song and as an alternative to the prosaic
realities of the present, Schubert evoked the lyric within the context of the sonata as a means of reunifying the
dissociated sensibility of the Enlightenment.” Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” 306. See also William Kinderman,
“Wandering Archetypes in Schubert’s Instrumental Music,” 19th-Century Music 21, no. 2 (1997). I do not mean to imply
this is not a useful interpretive framework. Given that Schubert and his circle were notoriously engaged with literature,
poetry, and painting of the day, it is certainly reasonable to analyze Schubert’s conception of sonata form in dialogue
with changes in socio-cultural aesthetics. However, as I put forth in this dissertation, it is also worth considering how
Schubert’s musical practice can be seen to influence his compositional style.
10 The composer-specific approach contrasts with a genre-specific approach. Many studies, including those cited in note
11 below, employ composer-specific frameworks to supplement more general theories (i.e., genre-based). For a genre-
based approach, see James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the
Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006) and William E. Caplin, Classical Form: A Theory
of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998).
11 E.g., Julian Horton, “John Field and the Alternative History of Concerto First-Movement Form”; Julian Horton and
Paul Wingfield, “Norm and Deformation in Mendelssohn’s Sonata Forms,” in Mendelssohn Perspectives, ed. Nicole Grimes
and Angela R. Mace (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012).
12 Hepokoski and Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory, 8.
13 Ibid., 9.
4
is not particularly idiomatic in his oeuvre. Thus, it is through knowledge of Schubert’s sustained
musical practice that variation comes to the fore as an ideal analytical lens: his engagement with
variation crosses myriad generic boundaries, from improvised to composed, art to popular, and
instrumental to vocal musics.
Second, it is worth clarifying my use of the term “variation” because it is a crucial
component of my analytical method. The word itself has multiple meanings in musical discourse. It
defines a set of compositional techniques; it can refer to a musical form; and it is associated with an
aesthetic—that of unity in variety (variatio delectat)—privileged in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries that was overtaken by organicism in the nineteenth century. While these definitions can be
distinguished in important and tangible ways, it is just as important for us to recognize the ways in
which they relate and overlap. For instance, the presence of variation techniques, especially in
abundance, often implies a variation form, and a piece in variation form evokes certain “variational”
aesthetics (i.e., unity in variety).14 Further convoluting this terminology is a contextual shift that
occurred over the course of the eighteenth century: initially considered an aid in extemporization
(varying repeats as a performance practice), variation also came to define a composed-out genre—
one that was especially lucrative for composers and publishers alike given the burgeoning middle
classes at the turn of the nineteenth century.
In this dissertation I draw together the multiple meanings of variation to form a new
analytical perspective, a perspective of variation, which guides my form-functional analyses of sonata
forms.15 This variation perspective reflects Schubert’s compositional practice, which exemplifies all
of the meanings of variation outlined above. My analyses thus highlight elements of variation, be
they technical, formal, or evocative of a distinct aesthetic, and place them in dialogue with formal
functions in sonata form.
Chapter Outline
Chapter 1 comprises two sections. In the first section I discuss critical junctures in the reception
history of Schubert’s treatment of repetition from the mid-nineteenth through the twenty-first
century. I begin with a consideration of negative appraisals published in the second half of the
nineteenth century, including biographies, musical encyclopedias, and periodicals. These early value
judgments shaped the perception of Schubert’s instrumental works: the general sense of negativity
14 Thus, I read the use of variation techniques in sonata form in dialogue with, or referencing, variation form, even if the
form itself is not employed (which is sometimes, but not always the case). This is due in large part to the fact, as a
pedagogical tool, techniques of variation were often codified in conjunction with the form itself as an extemporized
genre.
15 For more on my use of Caplin’s theory of formal functions, see Chapter 1.
5
towards repetition put forth early on in Schubert’s reception history was perpetuated in subsequent
years through concert reviews, editorial practices, and scholarship—especially early analyses of his
sonata forms. The historical review leads naturally to a review of contemporary scholarship. I
highlight authors who refute early critiques of Schubert’s instrumental music and promote new
methods for the positive valuation of repetition. I also demonstrate the change in scholarly
perceptions of repetition reflected in popular presses.
In the second half of Chapter 1, I develop my analytical framework for the analyses in
Chapters 2–4, connecting Schubert’s use of variation techniques to his routine engagement with
improvisation. While I am primarily concerned with his musical engagement as an adult, it is worth
noting that Schubert would have been trained in the art of extemporaneous keyboard playing from
an early age. In elevating the role of variation in Schubert’s idiom I take as a point of departure his
use of variation as an improvising musician; specifically, accompanying hours of social dancing at
house parties. We lack sources detailing the “how-tos” of improvising dance music, specifically;
however, we can infer certain practices that Schubert would have had recourse to given the contents
of treatises on extemporaneous keyboard playing published throughout the nineteenth century. For
example, we can assume that the practice of extemporaneously varying formal repeats was relevant
to Schubert’s improvising of social dances, most of which would have been in binary or small-
ternary form.
In Chapter 2, my first analytical chapter, I turn to Schubert’s works in theme-and-variation
form. First, I establish the continued relevance of the theme and variation genre to Schubert’s
oeuvre through a review of the literature on variation form—including a history of the Classical
ornamental variation, and Schubert’s contributions to the genre. Albeit aesthetically and critically
maligned, it was a popular genre, and publishing theme-and-variation sets provided a form of
income for Schubert. Second, in order to create a through line from his improvisatory practice to
compositional idiom, I analyze Schubert’s seventeen published theme-and-variation sets. From
analyzing composed pieces in theme-and-variation form we can glean a sense of how Schubert tends
to vary, when he varies. Through my analyses I establish four categories of variation techniques that
I consider idiomatic to Schubert—for either their nature or their use—thus creating a variation
perspective from which the sonata forms can be analyzed.16
16That is, the techniques I establish as idiomatic are either (1) not standard among Classical ornamental variations and
employed frequently in Schubert’s variations, or (2) techniques that, while typical among Classical variations, stand out
for the frequency with which they are used in Schubert’s variations (in comparison to other techniques associated with
the genre).
6
In Chapter 3 I take the idiomatic variation techniques established in Chapter 2 as a point of
departure for my analyses. I analyze first-movement sonata forms from three instrumental genres
(solo piano, chamber ensemble, and orchestra) composed during Schubert’s “maturity,” the period
between 1820 and his death in 1828.17 Adopting this variation perspective when analyzing sonata
forms illuminates the use of variation in significant ways. First, variation techniques, as
compositional techniques, are freely employed in Schubert’s sonata idiom. Varied thematic
restatements can be understood in terms of motivic or thematic transformations; however, I argue
that Schubert’s use of techniques so indicative of variation form creates new interpretive
possibilities. While the implication of these devices is rarely the focal point of analyses, many now-
familiar descriptions of Schubert’s style (e.g., as lyrical, nostalgic, or of paratactic construction) result
from the presence of variation techniques.
Second, variation operates as an organizational, or structuring, device in Schubert’s sonata
forms. As I show in Chapter 3, repetitions of thematic material—often meeting the criteria of theme
in their own right—are varied, and these processes of variation participate in the expansion of large-
scale formal units. Retrospectively we can understand concatenated, varied thematic repetitions from
either the form-functional perspective, often participating in large-scale sentential designs, or, from
the variation perspective, as a theme-and-variation set embedded within the overarching sonata
form. Alternatively, recurrences of thematic material can be varied over the course of a movement,
thus participating in what I refer to as a set of distributed variations. Third, and finally, the frequent
use of variation techniques evokes an aesthetic typically associated with theme-and-variation form.
In adopting a “variation aesthetic” in our listening and analysis, we not only experience a different
kind of musical time, but also find value in Schubert’s nuanced use of variation in sonata form (as
opposed to viewing variation as antithetical to sonata form).18
Chapter 4 is devoted to case studies of entire first-movement sonata forms. I analyze the
first movements of the last three piano sonatas, D. 958, D. 959, and D. 960, demonstrating the
impact of variation on sonata form over the course of an entire movement. While these sonatas
have been analyzed from a multitude of perspectives (e.g., Formenlehre, Schenkerian and neo-
Riemannian theories, hermeneutic analysis, and feminist/queer studies) my analyses further pursue
17 I consider 1820–1828 to represent Schubert’s maturity as a composer of instrumental music, beginning with the
Quartettsatz, a “work of furious intensity that heralded Schubert's maturity as a composer of instrumental music” (Winter,
accessed in Grove Music Online 2014). However, I fully acknowledge that within Schubert’s short lifetime periodization is
problematic, even within the years typically regarded as his mature period.
18 For more on the different temporality evoked by variation, see Anne M. Hyland, “In Search of Liberated Time, or
Schubert’s Quartet in G Major, D. 887: Once More Between Sonata and Variation,” Music Theory Spectrum 38, no. 1
(2016).
7
the role of variation in their construction. Through a close reading of entire movements, I
demonstrate the variational logic that underpins Schubert’s sonata forms. That is, in these works
variation comes to the fore as a means of organizing and deriving thematic material in not only
expositions and recapitulations, but also development sections. The theoretical ramifications
resulting from Schubert’s use of variation in development sections are clear: this practice
undermines the analyst’s ability to distinguish development sections, and their interthematic
function, by the compositional techniques and organizational strategies employed therein.19 Because
restatements of thematic material are subject to variation techniques regardless of their placement in
the form, and extended passages including model-sequence technique, fragmentation, and
liquidation (more typically associated with development) appear in expositions and recapitulations,
the difference between large-scale interthematic functions is attenuated. In order to properly engage
with Schubert’s practice in sonata form, I revisit certain theoretical tenets at the conclusion of
Chapter 4.
Ultimately, this dissertation reframes the treatment of repetition in Schubert’s sonata forms.
I turn to Schubert’s musical-social life to develop an analytical framework, and thus situate
Schubert’s sonata form practice against a backdrop of norms derived from a more holistic
consideration of his oeuvre. As such, I establish variation procedures as normative in (and beyond)
Schubert’s sonata forms. Through a dialogue between variation and form-functional analysis I forge
a new link between contemporary Formenlehre and a composer’s practice. Moreover, I offer a
framework for the theorization of style (and its application in analysis). Both of these innovations
should prove fruitful in informing future studies of musical form in the long nineteenth century.
19 As defined by Caplin, interthematic functions are “the constituent formal functions of a full-movement form (or the
principal sections of such a form) operating above the level of the theme. Caplin, Classical Form, 255.
-Chapter One-
Schubert’s Repetitions: from the Literature to Analysis
This chapter serves two purposes and is thus split into two parts. The first part addresses literature
pertinent to understanding critiques of Schubert’s use of repetition, from historically
contemporaneous opinions published in memoirs of the composer by friends and family, to
modern-day analytical and interpretive frameworks. In concluding part one I detail the theoretical
method guiding my analyses: William Caplin’s theory of formal functions.1 I consider the adaptation
of form-functional theory to the analysis of post-Classical forms and discuss my analytical method,
which enriches form-functional theory with theoretical concepts specifically geared towards the
analysis of variation. 2 The second part of the chapter establishes the broader context for my
analytical framework. I argue that the importance of variation for Schubert’s style stems from his
constant engagement with variation as a frequent improviser of social dance music; a thorough
consideration of Schubert’s musical-social life (as recounted by members of his social circle) bolsters
this claim.
Repetition in Schubert’s Reception History

Early biographies of Schubert have greatly influenced the composer’s reception history; this is
especially relevant given his untimely death.3 As each generation has reimagined the composer,
accounts of friends and family members (e.g., Josef von Spaun, Leopold Sonnleithner, and
Ferdinand Schubert) have become ever-more central to constructions of Schubert. What is more,
the image of Schubert was further mythologized through novels, operettas, and films, which often
reduce Schubert to a caricature of the Biedermeier. As Christopher H. Gibbs notes, “if biographers
had complained that Schubert’s actual life was uneventful, more creative adapters evidently found
attractive raw material in it to fire their fantasies.”4 The long-reaching influence exerted by early
biographers on later scholarship is often evident in criticisms of Schubert’s repetitions, for certain
1 William E. Caplin, Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1998). See also, Caplin, “What Are Formal Functions?” in Musical Form, Forms, and
Formenlehre: Three Methodological Reflections, ed. Pieter Bergé (Leuven University Press, 2009).
2 For more on adopting and adapting theories of Classical form to post-Classical repertoires, see Steven Vande Moortele,
“In Search of Romantic Form,” Music Analysis 32, no. 3 (2013).

3 Otto Erich Deutsch cautions readers against the influence of “reminiscences written later than 1865, the year which
saw the publication of Kreissle’s important biography of Schubert” for they may have been “influenced …even
amplified” by that publication. Otto Erich Deutsch, Schubert: Memoirs by His Friends, ed. Otto Erich Deutsch, trans.
Rosamond Ley and John Nowell (New York: The MacMillan Company, 1958), 5.
4 Christopher H. Gibbs, “‘Poor Schubert’: Images and Legends of the Composer,” in The Cambridge Companion to Schubert,
ed. Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 53.

8
9
aspects of his persona are frequently highlighted in these critiques.5 For example, the image of
Schubert as divinely inspired, a creative genius, grounds many critiques of repetition in Schubert’s
instrumental music. 6 That is, many authors cite such biographical “facts” as reasons for the
purported redundancy in Schubert’s sonata forms.
Johann Michael Vogl, a singer and champion of Schubert’s Lieder, is often identified as a
central figure in perpetuating the myth of Schubert’s genius.7 In a diary entry, Vogl writes that
Schubert’s songs are “truly divine inspirations … products of musical clairvoyance.”8 According to
Suzannah Clark, Vogl often characterized Schubert’s music in similar terms. Moreover, in his
reminiscences, he construes Schubert himself as “a passive vessel through which divine inspiration
passed and that he had little understanding of his own music.”9 Schubert’s first biographer, Heinrich
Kreissle von Hellborn, initially set to counter Vogl’s depiction of Schubert as a mere “vessel,”
acknowledging that Schubert did indeed labor as a composer.10 Yet his concluding remarks reveal a
conflict between the generally accepted genius of Schubert and Kreissle’s own opinions of
Schubert’s music. He describes Schubert as “a ‘naïf’ music-composer” and argues that, as a result of
the composer’s creative spark, “deep earnest calculation and thought was foreign [to him].” Kreissle
goes on, using Schubert’s apparent caprice to explain shortcomings in the composer’s treatment of
repetition:
5 I refrain from discussing of other aspects of Schubert’s life and music; thus, I do not detail the constructions and
deconstructions of Schubert as Man vs. Historical Figure. For more on this, see Suzannah Clark, “Singing Schubert’s
Praises: The Voice of Vogl in Schubert’s Early History,” in Analyzing Schubert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2011); Gibbs, “‘Poor Schubert.’” Similarly, I do not review discussions of tonal structure, or interactions between
harmony and form in analyses of Schubert’s idiom. For more on this approach to Schubert scholarship, see David
Beach, “Schubert’s Experiments with Sonata Form: Formal-Tonal Design Versus Underlying Structure,” Music Theory
Spectrum 15, no. 1 (1993); Beach, “Phrase Expansion: Three Analytical Studies,” Music Analysis 14, no. 1 (1995); Richard
Cohn, “As wonderful as Star Clusters: Instruments for Gazing at Tonality in Schubert,” 19th-Century Music 22, no. 3
(1999); David Kopp, “Three Examples of Functional Chromatic Mediant Relations in Schubert,” in Chromatic
Transformations in Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Steven Rings, “Perspectives on
Tonality and Transformation in Schubert’s Impromptu in E-flat, D. 899, No. 2,” Journal of Schenkerian Studies 2 (2007);
Brian Black, “The Function of Harmonic Motives in Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” Intégral 23, no. 1 (2009); David
Damschroder, Harmony in Schubert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); René Rusch, “Schenkerian Analysis,
Neo-Riemannian Theory, and Late Schubert: A Lesson from Tovey,” Journal of the Society for Musicology in Ireland 8 (2012).
6 For example, following Schubert’s death many wrote about what it was like to watch Schubert compose. Clark notes
that these accounts continue to position Schubert as one who could compose “with great ease and speed … anywhere
and instantaneously.” However, she cautions that such historical accounts, although documented, are not only often
colored by nostalgia, but also written down years after the actual event in question. Clark, Analyzing Schubert, 12–13.
7 His name appears often in the memoirs of Schubert published by Deutsch. Contemporary scholars also highlight the
importance of Vogl in constructions of Schubert. See, for example, Suzannah Clark, Analyzing Schubert.
8 “Bauernfeld: Memoir of J. M. Vogl (1841),” in Deutsch, Memoirs, 226.
9 Clark, Analyzing Schubert, 7.
10 This was first published as a short biographical sketch, Franz Schubert: Eine Biographische Skizze (Vienna: L.C. Zamarski
and C. Dittmarsch, 1861), which was then serialized in 1864 in Niederrheinische Musik-Zeitung für Kunstfreunde und Künstler
and Signale für die Musikalische Welt, and finally printed as a two-volume biography the following year, Franz Schubert, 2
vols. (Vienna: Carl Gerold’s Sohn, 1865). As for the content of Kriessle’s biography of Schubert, many of Schubert’s
friends’ memoirs were written “in response to a request from Schubert’s would-be biographer Ferdinand Luib, whose
projected biography never appeared but whose material was used by Heinrich Kreissle von Hellborn.” Clark, Analyzing
Schubert, 10.
10
Herein, it may be, lies the reason why in so many of his creations we miss that concentration
of power and exquisite polish which we admire in other masters … And here we may blame the
unnecessary length and breadth or the uncalled-for repetitions which occur in occasional movements in his
instrumental works, and only tend to weaken the effect.11
Kreissle argues that Schubert’s music was prone to repetition because revising was, if not completely
absent, at least rare in his practice: “Instead of polishing and beautifying his work again and again,
[Schubert] preferred to strike out something new.” 12 Ultimately, Kreissle justifies ostensible
compositional shortcomings in Schubert’s idiom as resulting from his speed of production.13
Critiques of Schubert’s music motivated by its repetitiousness are also found in more
sympathetic assessments of the composer as a musical prodigy. In Sir George Grove’s biography of
Schubert, published in the Dictionary of Music and Musicians, he attributes this compositional fault to
Schubert’s education (or lack thereof). The entry proceeds chronologically, detailing the tutelage of
Schubert from a young age, and it does not take long before Grove starts to editorialize. In
recounting Schubert’s studies with Michael Holzer, his first teacher (Schubert was then seven years
of age), Grove notes that Holzer would “give [Schubert] subjects to extemporize upon, and then
[Holzer’s] joy would know no bounds, and he would cry ‘the lad has got harmony at his fingers’
ends.’ Such astonishment was natural enough, but it would have been far better if he had taught him counterpoint.”14
In discussing Schubert’s education as a teen at the Stadtkonvikt in Vienna (1808–1813), Grove
similarly blames the school and its instructors for improperly educating Schubert:
The Convict … was entrusted with the most poetical genius of modern times, and it appears
to have allowed him to take his own course in the matter of composition almost
unrestrained. Had but a portion of the pains been spent on the musical education of
Schubert that was lavished on that of Mozart or of Mendelssohn, we can hardly doubt that
even his transcendent ability would have been enhanced by it, that he would have gained that
control over the prodigious spontaneity of his genius which is his only want.15
At the end of the entry Grove offers his own appraisal of Schubert’s oeuvre. Of especial relevance
are his comments on the instrumental works:
11 Kreissle, The Life of Franz Schubert, 2 vols., vol. 2, trans. Arthur Duke Coleridge (London: Longmans, Green, and Co.,
1869), 263, emphasis mine.
12 Ibid., 263–264. This statement is supported by an appeal to Schubert’s manuscripts, which—according to Kreissle—
lacked any evidence of an editing or revising practice on Schubert’s behalf.

13 Given the lack of any primary source materials, such as manuscripts or workbooks, the belief that Schubert composed
without revising persisted well into the twentieth century. I return to this point in greater detail later in this chapter.
14 Sir George Grove, Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 5 vols., vol. 4, ed. John Alexander Fuller-Maitland (London:
MacMillan, 1908), 280, emphasis mine. This was first published in four volumes between 1879 and 1889.
15 Ibid., 282.
11
In his instrumental music he is often very diffuse. When a passage pleases him he generally
repeats it at once, almost note for note. He will reiterate a passage over and over in different
keys.16
For Grove “diffuseness and repetition” characterize Schubert’s idiom.17 Remarks like this, as well as
those found in Kreissle’s biography, influenced subsequent accounts of Schubert’s instrumental
music. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to fully recount Schubert’s reception history. 18
However, appraisals of the composer’s treatment of repetition abound, following Kreissle and
Grove, in blaming either Schubert’s poor work ethic or education for compositional flaws.
Before moving on to consider the impact of these criticisms on the reception history of
Schubert’s instrumental music, repetition—as it came to be equated with lyricism—merits further
consideration. There exists a long history of equating the treatment of repetition in Schubert’s idiom
with lyricism, or the lyrical style, because it appears in both his Lieder and instrumental music. Yet,
for both Kreissle and Grove, Schubert’s use of repetition is unacceptable only in the latter. For
Kreissle it ruins “the effect” of a work; however, he immediately juxtaposes this complaint with
approval when similar strategies of repetition are employed in Schubert’s Lieder, which, being “more
confined by the limits allowed by words, are, in nearly every instance, free from this reproach.”19 We
find similar sentiments in Grove’s appraisal of Schubert. Immediately following his own comments
on repetition in the instrumental music, Grove hedges: “In the songs this does not offend.”20 Thus,
the notion that Schubert’s lyricism, while befitting the Lieder, weakened the instrumental works can
be traced to early on in Schubert’s reception history.21 The importance of lyricism to future studies
of Schubert’s oeuvre cannot be understated; of even greater significance, perhaps, is that the
compositional strategies associated with Schubert’s lyricism are indebted to his use of variation
techniques.
Lacking manuscripts, sketches, drafts, and continuity drafts, early twentieth-century authors
had no choice but to rely on anecdotes in historical documents claiming, for example, that Schubert
16 Ibid., 327.
17 Ibid., 325.
18 Again, see Clark and Gibbs for detailed discussions of Schubert’s reception as evinced through critical presses,
memoirs of friends, and the discourse of contemporary music theoretical work.

19 Kreissle, The Life of Franz Schubert, 2:263.
20 Grove, Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 4:327.
21 The notion that Schubert was a more adept composer of songs, and that his instrumental music did not meet similar
standards of excellence, was propagated by Schubert’s friends and remained an (influential) truism for decades, to the
extent that it colors modern analyses of the composer’s oeuvre. Yet even this “fact” is a product of the biased musical
taste of Schubert’s friends reified in biographical literature. For example, in a letter from Josef von Spaun to Eduard von
Bauernfeld from 1829 regarding a potential biography, Spaun writes “in spite of all the admiration I have felt for my dear
friend, for years, I am of the opinion that, in the field of instrumental and church music, we shall never make a Mozart
or Haydn out of him, whereas in song he stands unsurpassed. It was in this type of composition that he made his name,
and in it he knows no peer. I believe, therefore, that Schubert must be approached by his biographer as a song writer.”
Deutsch, Memoirs, 30.
12
routinely dashed off compositions. Schubert: Memoirs by His Friends, published by Otto Erich Deutsch
(1957, English translation in 1958), is replete with accounts of Schubert being immediately inspired
by a poem and subsequently producing the finished compositions at awe-inspiring speeds. There is
the story of Schubert at the Esterházy family’s summer residence (in the town of Zseliz) composing
a piece for four voices for Countess Esterházy in little more than a day after being shown a poem at
breakfast.22 As told by Karl Freiherr von Schönstein, “it certainly seems incredible, but nevertheless
true. After all, Schubert was the man for that kind of thing, this heaven-inspired clairvoyant who, as
it were, simply shook his most glorious things out of his sleeve.”23 There is also the memory of
Benedict Randhartinger (as retold by Albert Bach, ca. 1888), who tells of Schubert setting seven
poems by Wilhelm Müller in one night.24
However, as Suzannah Clark notes, while “many witnessed Schubert’s flashes of inspiration
when he read through a poem and declared his composition ‘done,’ it seems few actually witnessed
him compose. He preferred to do so in private.”25 And in private processes of revision were a part
of Schubert’s compositional practice—a process not widely known until the discovery of sketches,
drafts, etc. in the 1940s.26 Regardless of the reality, biographers relying on these memories often
misrepresent Schubert’s process of composing. Take, for example, Grove, who observes that the
music of both Schubert and Beethoven has a spontaneous quality; however, he goes on to
distinguish the process of Beethoven, for whom “spontaneity was the result of labor, and the more
he polished the more natural were his tunes,” from that of Schubert, who need only “read the poem,
and the appropriate tune, married to immortal verse (a marriage, in his case, truly made in heaven),
rushed into his mind, and to the end of his pen.”27 Following memoirs and biographers, critics and
22 Another favorite is the story of Schubert not recognizing his own song because (one assumes) he wrote it so quickly
and without much consideration. It originates with Vogl (as an exchange between the two men), but is retold by many
throughout the memoirs. See the following entries in Deutsch, Memoirs: Karl Freiherr von Schönstein (1857), 101;
Kunigunde Vogl (letter to her daughter Henriette, ca. 1850), 217; Max Löwenthall (diary entry, 1838), 296; and Karoline
Pichler (1844), 302. Numerous recounts of this particular tale spawned accounts of similar events: as Clark notes, “soon
enough, stories of Schubert’s compositional methods grew to apocryphal proportions.” Analyzing Schubert, 16.
23 Deutsch, Memoirs, 103.
24 “On one occasion Schubert saw on Randhartinger’s table a book by W. Müller, containing the so-called ‘Müllerlieder’:
he read some of these poems … and he took away the book about five o’clock in the afternoon, and went straight home
to compose ... Next forenoon [Randhartinger] called at Schubert’s lodging, and was surprised to see the book on
Schubert’s table. ‘Do not be angry with me … the poems have so inspired me that I had to compose music to them and
I scarcely slept two hours last night … I have already seven poems set to music.” Deutsch, Memoirs, 202.
25 Clark, Analyzing Schubert, 14.
26 For a more detailed discussion of the influence of nineteenth-century biography on early twentieth-century criticism
(including the opinions of concert reviewers), and the revelations brought about in the 1940s by the discovery of
Schubert’s compositional and pre-compositional materials, see Anne Hyland and Walburga Litschauer, “‘Records of
Inspiration’: Schubert’s Drafts for the Last Three Piano Sonatas Reappraised,” in Rethinking Schubert, ed. Lorraine Byrne
Bodley and Julian Horton (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). Other myths, such as Schubert’s poor education,
are similarly imprinted deep in our intellectual history, making it difficult to imagine an alternative history for the
composer. See also Gibbs, “‘Poor Schubert’” and Clark, “Singing Schubert’s Praises.”
27 Grove, Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 4:330.
13
scholars alike faulting excessive repetition in the composer’s instrumental music often blame
Schubert’s poor working habits, for the composer seemed to forgo the processes of labor (e.g.,
reflection and revision) once considered crucial to the act of composition as valorized in the
nineteenth century (with the concomitant privileging of the “musical work” as a concept).
Thus far I have primarily explored writings of a biographical nature. However, it is worth
noting parallels in the reception history between the aforementioned texts and critiques of Schubert
published in historically contemporaneous popular presses. These appraisals make clear our
collective obsession with repetition in Schubert’s idiom as it dates back to the first days of
Schubert’s reception history. Moreover, they demonstrate the influence of biographies on public
opinion.
Indeed, some commentaries published in nineteenth-century periodicals show no restraint in
their critiques. Take, for instance, the following comments excerpted from Henry Heathcote
Stratham’s article, published in the Edinburgh Review from October 1883. I quote this piece
extensively for it demonstrates a number of issues addressed thus far:
The belief in Schubert’s greatness as an instrumental composer is, however, a forced one;
and the more the public learn about musical composition and musical form, the more
certainly they will eventually find this out … [the instrumental works are] the work of a man
who would write copiously as the whim seized him, but would take no trouble about it … Beethoven, as
his notebooks show, would expend more study and pains in rendering a single theme what
he ought it to be than Schubert probably ever bestowed on a whole movement.28
After crediting Schubert with his ability to compose “lovely” music in shorter forms, like song form,
Stratham goes on to note the special requirements of sonata form and laments Schubert’s failure to
meet them.29
Ultimately, the criticisms of Stratham reflect the extent of the influence of biographies, and
the power of their authors, on the reception of Schubert’s instrumental works, with especial regards
to the degree to which repetition was identified as a problem. First, this article demonstrates the
harshness of critiques of Schubert’s instrumental music. Second, it contrasts Schubert with
Beethoven, which in turn reveals the privileging of Beethoven (of both his character and, as a result,
compositions). Third, it faults Schubert’s character for compositional flaws (i.e., Stratham cites
Schubert’s lack of revising, understood to be a crucial part of the compositional process). Yet,
28 Henry Heathcote Stratham, in The Edinburgh Review 158, no. 324, (October 1883), 267. Emphasis mine. Stratham’s
primary occupation was that of an architect; however, as an amateur musician he worked as a music critic for a number
of publications including the The Edinburgh Review, The Fortnightly Review, and The Nineteenth Century. This essay from The
Edinburgh Review, along with others published in the Fortnightly, were reprinted in 1892 as a monograph. See Henry
Heathcote Stratham, My Thoughts on Music and Musicians (London: Chapman & Hall, 1892).
29 I discuss those comments in the Introduction.
14
despite the accusations of poor craftsmanship and lamentations over excessive repetition in
Schubert’s instrumental works, this repertoire continues to garner attention in performance, analysis,
and criticism.30
It is worth considering the practical impact of nineteenth-century critiques of repetition as
reflected in editions of Schubert’s piano sonatas published in the first half of the twentieth century.
Through the work of Anne Hyland and Walburga Litschauer, we know that (some) editors in
musical publishing houses began to take an active role in correcting perceived foibles in Schubert’s
instrumental music, posthumously revising his sonata forms. 31 In 1918 and 1942, for instance,
Harold Bauer published “abridged editions” of the B-flat Major Piano Sonata, D. 960, in Schirmer’s
Library of Musical Classics. According to Hyland, who has studied these abridged editions and
compared them against the original version, Bauer cut 389 bars in the 1918 edition and 406 in 1942;
many measures not cut were altered, condensed, or re-written.32 Ultimately, Hyland argues that
Bauer’s changes were meant to render D. 960 in the image of Beethoven’s sonata style. The urge to
normalize Schubert’s instrumental music within the dominant Beethovenian aesthetic is evinced
through heavy revisions; this also occurs in analysis when scholars admit the “abundance of
repetition on the musical surface” while demonstrating that “hypotactic logic exists beneath.” 33
Interpreting Schubert’s music through the lens of Beethoven will only continue to reveal faulty
craftsmanship while neglecting the more explicitly Schubertian elements.
In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, authors began to seek new, non-Beethovenian
discourses to frame their analyses, thus redressing existing scholarly biases. I consider the
foundational essays penned by Theodor W. Adorno, Donald Francis Tovey, and Felix Salzer in 1928
(the centenary year of Schubert’s death) to represent the beginning of modern Schubert studies.
These authors take up lyricism as it relates to Schubert’s idiom, drawing connections between images
of Schubert as a master of Lieder and his importing of “song-style” into his instrumental works.
However, the importance of variation in general with regards to Schubert’s compositional style—
30 J. S. Shedlock, in his review of Stratham’s monograph, similarly contrasts the number of harsh, sustained critiques of
Schubert’s instrumental music with the degree to which it is loved: “And, again, Schubert’s Symphonies are described as
‘uninteresting, unpolished, and full of vain repetitions.’ Of course one must be quite fair to Mr. Stratham. He probably
feels the beauty and the grandeur of Schubert’s music as intensely as Sir G. Grove; but when he comes to write about it,
on go the spectacles, and Schubert is found wanting … in an essay for general readers, to magnify the weak points and
almost entirely to hide the qualities which make the music so powerful, is wrong and misleading.” J. S. Shedlock, review
of My Thoughts on Music and Musicians in The Academy 40, no. 1025 (July–December, 1891), 595.
31 Anne Hyland, “[Un]Himmlische Länge: Editorial Intervention as Reception hHistory,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History,
Theory, Style. ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016); Hyland and
Litschauer, “‘Records of Inspiration.’”
32 Hyland, “[Un]Himmlische Länge,” 75–76.
33 Anne Hyland, “[Un]Himmlische Länge,” 55. I elaborate on hypotaxis below.
15
and, more specifically, as it pertains to the lyrical character of his sonata forms—would go
unrecognized for another fifty years.
As one of the more influential writings on Schubert’s style, Adorno’s essay from 1928 is one
of the first to posit a Schubertian aesthetic.34 For Adorno, the metaphor of landscape is primary, and
he uses lyricism to introduce this metaphor: “the respective proportions of the subjective and
objective in the lyrical component that characterizes Schubert’s landscape are determined anew.”35
As Scott Burnham aptly summarizes, for Adorno Schubert’s themes are like landscapes: they
represent “forms of permanence that cannot be fundamentally altered but can only be revisited.”36
Of especial relevance to this dissertation is Adorno’s notion of “perspectival circulation.”37 This
concept is introduced in tandem with the metaphor of landscape: “perspectival circulation”
describes the experience of hearing a Schubertian theme as a landscape, viewed through the lens of
the wanderer for whom “points of the landscape are scanned but never actually left.” 38 This
description can also be framed in terms of variation, and evoking aesthetics of unity in diversity.39 In
exploring a distinctly Schubertian framework (albeit couched in Beethovenian dichotomies), Adorno
laid significant groundwork for future scholars.40
Tovey’s “Tonality in Schubert” and Salzer’s “Die Sonatenform bei Franz Schubert” are the
first substantial twentieth-century studies to mount critiques of Schubert’s repetitions, painted more
broadly as his thematic lyricism, in sonata forms.41 For Tovey, “Schubert’s large instrumental forms
are notoriously prone to spend in lyric ecstasy the time required ex hypothesi for dramatic action.”42
For Salzer the necessity of thematic development (cf. Tovey’s “dramatic action”) in sonata forms is
linked to a conflict between inner and outer form: while “its outer form constitutes an expansion of
song form, the character of its inner form must however deny its relationship to the prototype.”43
34 Theodor W. Adorno, “Schubert,” in Night Music: Essays on Music 1928–1962, trans. Wieland Hoban, ed. Rolf
Tiedemann (Calcutta, India: Seagull books, 2009).
35 Ibid., 22.
36 Scott Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth: Schubert and the Burden of Repetition,” 19th-Century Music
29, no. 1 (2005), 40.

37 Adorno, “Schubert,” 32.
38 Ibid.
39 I return to the notion of shifting perspectives, and how this metaphor relates to aesthetics of variation, in Chapter 2.
40 See, for example, Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth”; Anne Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology?
Towards an Understanding of Repetition in Franz Schubert’s Instrumental Chamber Music,” PhD diss. (King’s College,
University of Cambridge, 2010); Janet Schmalfeldt, “On Performance, Analysis, and Schubert” in In the Process of Becoming:
Analytic and Philosophical Perspectives on Form in Early Nineteenth-Century Music (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011);
Richard Kramer, “Against the Grain: The Sonata in G (D. 894) and a Hermeneutics of Late Style,” in Schubert’s Late Style:
History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).
41 For more on Adorno and Dahlhaus, and how their essays evoke elements of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms, see
Chapter 2.
42 Donald Francis Tovey, “Tonality in Schubert,” Music & Letters 9 (1928); reprinted in The Main Stream of Music and Other
Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1949), 148.

43 Felix Salzer, “Die Sonatenform bei Franz Schubert,” Studien zur Musikwissenschaft 15 (1928), 89.
16
Therefore, sonata forms, being an expansion of song form, must suppress the lyrical qualities
associated with song form through the “improvisatory element” of music itself. This “improvisatory
element” imparts a “forward-driving force” that “prevents the excessive development of a single
key, begets dramatic tensions in the music, and ensures a unified coherence.”44 In contrast, a lyrical
idea “is self-contained [and] exists for its own sake.”45 Lyricism thus stands in opposition to the
improvisatory aesthetic of—and, as a result, is inappropriate to—sonata form.46 Su Yin Mak adeptly
summarizes Salzer’s negative assessment of Schubert: for Salzer, she writes, “Schubert’s sonata form
movements are weak because they indulge in a succession of lyrical structures unchecked by
improvisation, and are both excessive in length and lacking in organic unity.”47 Salzer’s critique of
Schubert’s treatment of repetition, in technical language, set the tone for many future criticisms.
In 1978, the 150th anniversary of Schubert’s death, two seminal essays on his sonata forms
were published: James Webster’s “Schubert’s Sonata Forms and Brahms’s First Maturity” and Carl
Dahlhaus’s “Die Sonatenform bei Schubert.” 48 Both authors set out to redirect the course of
Schubert scholarship. Webster repositions Schubert’s style as highly influential to later nineteenth-
century sonata-form practice, arguing that “the most vital nineteenth-century sonata-form tradition
which attempted to translate the Classical heritage into appropriate new terms centers around
Schubert and Brahms”; Dahlhaus coined the phrase “lyric-epic” to describe Schubert’s sonata
designs, and implored scholars to refrain from measuring them “by the standards of Beethoven’s
dramatic-dialectic form.” 49 Again, both authors highlight Schubert’s lyricism. Webster details
characteristics of Schubert’s sonata-form compositions that he equates with “the lyrical impulse”
such as “Schubert’s fondness for lyrical melodies in his instrumental music” as well as “symmetrical
periods or closed forms such as ABA, often alternating with long modulating transitions.” 50
Dahlhaus’s essay discursively recalls Adorno’s prose (specifically, descriptions of Schubert’s
manipulation of musical landscapes) and offers a corrective to Salzer’s critique. In reframing
44 Ibid., 90.
45 Ibid., 88.
46 I return to this point later in the chapter.
47 Su Yin Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms and the Poetics of the Lyric,” Journal of Musicology 23 (2006), 267.
48 James Webster, “Schubert’s Sonata Form and Brahms’s First Maturity (I),” 19th–Century Music 2 (1978); Carl Dahlhaus,
“Die Sonatenform bei Schubert,” Musica 32, no. 2 (1978), trans. Thilo Reinhard as “Sonata Form in Schubert: The First
Movement of the G-major String Quartet, Op. 161,” in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed. Walter Frisch (Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press, 1986).
49 Webster, “Schubert’s Sonata Form,” 19; Dahlhaus, “Sonata Form in Schubert,” 1. While more forward thinking at the
time, in retrospect Webster’s valuation of Schubert is somewhat disappointing. For Webster—who follow’s Tovey’s
notion that “the fruition of Schubert’s new instrumental forms is to be found in Brahms,” Schubert’s sonata forms are
valuable because they influenced a later composer whose catalog held intrinsic value (Brahms), suggesting that it is hard
to value Schubert’s sonata forms for their own sake/on their own terms. Tovey, quoted in Webster, 19.
50 Webster, “Schubert’s Sonata Form,” 20.
17
Schubert’s lyricism, Dahlhaus argues for theme and variation as a means of justifying lyrical content
in sonata forms—an idea developed further through this dissertation.
More recently, scholars studying Schubert’s lyricism have prioritized deconstructing the
binary of “teleological” thematic development versus “lyrical” thematic repetition constructed in
twentieth-century discourse. In so doing, these authors problematize the apparent unsuitability of
lyricism to sonata form, a claim that was the basis for many previous critiques (e.g., Salzer).51 For
example, Anne Hyland demonstrates the creation of multiply-directed musical time in Schubert’s
sonata forms through the juxtaposition of additive repetition (lyrical; associated with theme-and-
variation form) and developmental repetition (teleological; associated with sonata form). In an effort
to move away from the dominant Beethovenian discourse, she reframes the teleological process of
sonata form as a drive towards the moment when disparate temporalities evoked through different
means of thematic repetition are synthesized. Poundie Burstein, writing from a Schenkerian
perspective, also puts forth a positive appraisal of lyricism in sonata form. Burstein argues that
“there is no contradiction between the organic logic of Schubert’s large structures and their
lyricism.”52 Through his analysis of the G Major String Quartet, D. 887/i, Burstein demonstrates
how structural unfolding creates, rather than contradicts, a lyrical aesthetic.
Contemporary studies of Schubert’s large-scale instrumental music often explore new
discursive and analytical strategies to consider the composer on his own terms.53 Following Elaine
Sisman’s use of the terms hypotaxis and parataxis in her study of the Classical variation, Su Yin Mak
adopted these terms (from classical rhetoric), which describe two distinct styles of sentence
structure. In juxtaposing paratactic with hypotactic sentence constructions, Mak uses parataxis as an
alternative aesthetic context for the interpretation of Schubert’s lyricism. 54 Paratactic writing
“downplays the role of syntax and hierarchy in discourse and instead relies on techniques of
51 For more on the unsuitability of lyricism to sonata form, and the tension between repetition and development that
results from organicist aesthetics, see Anne Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology,” 33–37.
52 L. Poundie Burstein, “Lyricism, Structure, and Gender in Schubert’s G Major String Quartet,” The Musical Quarterly,
81, no. 1 (Spring, 1997), 52.

53 Comparisons between Schubert and Beethoven plague the literature, often painting the former as inadequate in light
of the latter. Benedict Taylor recounts this scholarship briefly in “Schubert and the Construction of Memory: The String
Quartet in A minor, D. 804 (‘Rosamunde’),” Journal of the Royal Musical Association 139, no. 1 (2014), 41–42 and note 3.
54 Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms.” Mak further pursues this analytical framework in her monograph, Schubert’s Lyricism
Reconsidered: Structure, Design and Rhetoric (Saarbrücken: Lambert, 2010). Many scholars following Mak have adopted
analyzing paratactic construction in Schubert’s sonata forms. See, for example, Suzannah Clark, “Analyzing Music
Theory: A Schubertian Critique,” in Analyzing Schubert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Anne Hyland
similarly uses parataxis as a means to interpret analysis in “The ‘Tightened Bow’: Analysing the Juxtaposition of Drama
and Lyricism in Schubert’s Paratactic Sonata-Form Movements,” in Irish Musical Studies vol. 11, ed. Gareth Cox and
Julian Horton (Four Court Press, 2013); Julian Caskel, “Musical Causality and Schubert’s Piano Sonata in A Major, D
959, First Movement,” in Rethinking Schubert, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2016).
18
juxtaposition (such as repetition and parallelism).”55 In moving away from purely music-theoretical
discourse, Mak convincingly aligns Schubert’s treatment of repetition in sonata forms with its literary
analog, the paratactic style.56 What is more, parataxis is not only associated with verse, or oral epic
poetry, which forges a connection between repetition and lyricism in Schubert’s idiom, but is also
associated with variation (via Sisman), thus further suggesting the importance of variation as a
fruitful analytical framework.
Although lyricism has been a focal point of discourse surrounding Schubert’s compositional
style, it is not the only lens through which the composer’s use of repetition has been considered.
Analyses of Schubert’s music that rest on the discursive apparatus of memory abound. These studies
not only consider the various temporal states engendered by repetition within a work, but also
suggest the ability of musical topics to engage with processes of recollection, inducing in the listener
a sense of nostalgia.57 Charles Fisk offers yet another approach, applying the lens of cyclic form in
his analyses of Schubert’s sonata forms.58 For Fisk, repetition becomes an element that is not only
value-positive, but also necessary, for the creation of coherent large-scale cyclic works.
Anne Hyland also considers the relationship between repetition and musical time in
Schubert’s sonata forms. Employing a variety of analytical perspectives (e.g., historically oriented
performance practice, “new” Formenlehre, and Schenkerian theory), Hyland illuminates the various
temporal strata unfolding through the course of a sonata form resulting from Schubert’s treatment
of repetition. Her recent work shifts from early chamber works to the mature string quartets. Her
most recent work, an analysis of the G Major String Quartet (D. 887/i), demonstrates the
commingling of sonata and variation in the sonata-form movement.59 Hyland notes the centrality of
variation to Schubert’s style, and marshals it as a force suggesting its own kind of temporality that
imposes on—competes with—sonata time. As a result, varied repetition (variation) “in its persistent
exploration of competing temporalities, retrospectively becomes the formal impetus of this sonata
movement.”60 Indeed, the importance of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms is a focal point in
many of Hyland’s analyses, in both her recent work and in her dissertation.
55 Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” 275, emphasis mine.

56 Hypotaxis, a periodic style associated with prose, is equated with Beethoven’s sonata style in Mak’s article.
57 E.g., Brian Black, “Remembering a Dream: The Tragedy of Romantic Memory in the Modulatory Processes of
Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” Intersections 25, no. 1–2 (2005); Leon Botstein, ed. “Memory and Schubert’s Instrumental
Music,” Special issue, The Musical Quarterly 84, no. 4 (2000); Benedict Taylor, “Schubert and the Construction of
Memory”; Ryan McClelland, “Tonal Recollection in Schubert’s Late Instrumental Music,” Schubert’s Late Music: History,
Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).
58 Fisk, Returning Cycles: Contexts for the Interpretation of Schubert’s Impromptus and Last Sonatas (Los Angeles and Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2001).

59 Anne M. Hyland, “In Search of Liberated Time, or Schubert’s Quartet in G Major, D. 887: Once More Between
Sonata and Variation,” Music Theory Spectrum 38, no. 1 (2016).

60 Ibid., 106.
19
However, while the relevance of variation to Schubert’s style is widely acknowledged and has
garnered more attention as a serious analytical line of inquiry, few consider in detail what elements
of variation are particularly idiomatic, or how they interact with sonata form.61 This is especially
evident in analyses of Schubert’s late style; variation is often mentioned, but it is considered one of
many stylistic markers. 62 What is more, scholars rarely look beyond the sonata forms to consider
why variation would be as influential as it is in Schubert’s oeuvre.63 Unlike most commentators, I
argue that many traits of Schubert’s idiom (e.g., lyricism), including features described metaphorically
(e.g., wandering), are products of variation. I therefore consider variation a core tenet of the
composer’s idiom. In this dissertation I investigate Schubert’s engagement with variation, placing it
at the center of his compositional style. In order to challenge the accepted narrative that theme and
variation is (merely) one aspect subordinated to a greater style, I analyze Schubert’s treatment of
thematic repetition as arising from his engagement with variation. Variation, in its multifaceted
forms, offers both a remarkably comprehensive set of compositional techniques and an
organizational framework capable of fostering great nuance and subtlety.
Analyzing Variation: From Variation Techniques to Formal Functions

The specific analytical framework employed throughout this dissertation bears further discussion.
My approach to analyzing the treatment of repetition in sonata forms is guided by William Caplin’s
theory of formal functions, one of two primary theories of the new Formenlehre (the other being
James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s sonata theory).64 Caplin’s treatise posits a theory of formal
functions derived from a set of compositional conventions within a limited repertoire—music of the
61 One of the more serious considerations of variation in Schubert’s oeuvre is offered by Susan Wollenberg, “Schubert’s
Variations,” in Schubert’s Fingerprints: Studies in the Instrumental Works (Burlington: Ashgate, 2011). I address her analyses in
conjunction with my own throughout the dissertation.
62 A recent surge of interest in Schubert’s late style has come to the fore in publications such as Schubert’s Late Music:
History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016) and
Rethinking Schubert, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016).
63 Only recently have scholars turned to works in other genres to provide a new lens for the analysis of Schubert’s sonata
forms. Su Yin Mak and René Rusch both turn to the Fantasy in their work. René Rusch, “The Four-Key Exposition?
Schubert’s Sonata Forms, the Fantasia, and Questions of Formal Coherence” (paper presented at the Society for Music
Theory Annual meeting in Vancouver, British Columbia, November 4, 2016); Su Yin Mak, “Formal ambiguity and
Generic Reinterpretation in the Late Instrumental Music,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History, Theory, Style ed. Lorraine Byrne
Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). The notion that Schubert’s music blends
aspects of high and low art provides another fruitful analytical lens (e.g., the Ländler theme in the scherzo section of the
Wanderer Fantasy, (D. 760). See, for example, Mary Wischusen, “Franz Schubert and Viennese Popular Comedy,” in The
Unknown Schubert ed. Barbara M. Reul and Lorraine Byrne Bodley (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008) and Su Yin Mak, “Et in
Arcadia Ego: The Elegiac Structure of Schubert’s Quartettsatz in C minor (D. 703),” in The Unknown Schubert, ed. Barbara
M. Reul and Lorraine Byrne Bodley (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008).
64 Caplin, Classical Form; James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in
the Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006). For more on repetition versus return as
types of thematic restatements, see my discussion in Chapter 2 under “Analysis: Variation Techniques in Variation
Form.” See also Caplin, Analyzing Classical Form: An Approach for the Classroom (New York: Oxford University Press,
2013), 537.
20
High Classical style (Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven).65 His theory offers a bottom-up approach to
analysis: beginning with basic building blocks of form—two-bar units—analyses move up a
hierarchy of grouping structures, from four-, eight- and sixteen-bar units to full-movement forms.
Caplin’s theory offers two abstract concepts applicable to the analysis of repertoires beyond his
original corpus: tight-knit versus loose construction, and the notion of intra- and interthematic
functions.66 I apply both these concepts in my analyses of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms: as
for the latter, intra- and interthematic functions found in the Classical style are retained in Schubert’s
sonata forms. Regarding the former, I take the concept of tight-knit and loose phrase construction
and apply it to describe relationships between varied repetitions of thematic material.
While Caplin’s monograph does not address Schubert’s compositions, subsequent scholars
capitalize on its flexible analytical application in their analyses of Schubert’s sonatas. The concept of
formal functions remains highly relevant in Schubert’s sonata forms, as is evident in the analyses of
Hyland, Julian Horton, Janet Schmalfeldt, Brian Black, and Nathan Martin and Steven Vande
Moortele; I argue that this relevance is especially true for functions at the lowest hierarchical level
(two-bar units).67 Low-level grouping structures (e.g., basic and contrasting ideas) are often, but not
always, discernible. In corresponding most clearly with their Classical counterparts, Schubert’s two-
bar units provide a solid basis for analysis. As we move up the ladder of formal hierarchy, four-bar
phrases (e.g., antecedents and consequents) are similarly evident albeit frequently problematized by
cadential articulations, be they too frequent or completely lacking; and at the eight-to-sixteen bar
level, processes of expansion occlude the presence of Classical theme types, complicating the
categorization of themes within pre-existing formal categories. 68 Thus, Schubert’s sonatas often
present analytical challenges.69
65 For more on formal functions, cf. Caplin references in note 2. Janet Schmalfeldt similarly continues to employ
Caplin’s theory in her analysis of nineteenth-century music, noting that “Classical formal functions and theme types
continue to thrive in music of the Romantic generation.” Schmalfeldt, In the Process of Becoming: Analytical and Philosophical
Perspectives on Form in Early Nineteenth-Century Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 17.
66 For more on the concept of inter- and intrathematic functions and their use for analysis, see Julian Horton’s essay
“Formal Type and Formal Function in the Postclassical Piano Concerto,” in Formal Functions in Perspective: Essays on
Musical Form from Haydn to Adorno, ed. Steven Vande Moortele, Julie Pedneault-Deslauriers, and Nathan John Martin
(Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2015).
67 For examples of form-functional theory adapted to Schubert’s practice, see, for example, Anne Hyland, “Tautology or
Teleology”; Janet Schmalfeldt, In the Process of Becoming; Nathan Martin and Steven Vande Moortele, “Formal Functions
and Retrospective Reinterpretation in the First Movement of Schubert’s String Quintet,” Music Analysis 33, no. 2 (2014);
and Julian Horton, “The First Movement of Schubert's Piano Sonata D. 959 and the Performance of Analysis” in
Schubert’s Late Music: History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge
68 In instances where the analysis of these larger units is problematic, returning to the two-bar level typically proves
useful.
69 The way in which many scholars write about Schubert—that is, discursive strategies in Schubert studies—often
reinforce the underlying subtext that something is not quite right about Schubert’s sonata forms, that they are
unanalyzable, unapproachable. This stems from a disconnect between analytical methods and Schubert’s practice. For an
21
In Chapter 2 my analyses of variation techniques require that attention be paid to alterations
of surface-level musical features. I identify and catalog the types of variation techniques Schubert
employs, acknowledging their interactions with formal functions when appropriate. This set of
interactions is less complex than those found in subsequent chapters (3 and 4) that deal with sonata
form, because theme-and-variation sets are based on additive repetitions of smaller-scale units of
form, and thus lack large-scale (interthematic) functional relationships. Moreover, because of the
complexity historically attributed to sonata form, this formal genre has received a great deal more
theorizing than theme-and-variation form. As such, generic expectations play a larger role when
analyzing sonata forms, providing another layer of nuance to formal-analytical discussions.
Ultimately, my analyses complement form-functional theory with the analysis of variation
techniques, creating a dialogue between sonata form and variation. In Chapters 3 and 4, attending to
the techniques identified as idiomatic in Chapter 2 reveals the two-fold function of variation in
Schubert’s sonata forms. Recognizing compositional techniques associated with theme-and-variation
sets as a genre employed routinely in Schubert’s sonata forms highlights the stylistic import of
variation in Schubert’s oeuvre. Moreover, in Schubert’s sonata forms we find variation—as a form—
nested within large-scale formal units (especially subordinate themes). I not only highlight unique, or
idiomatic, instances of variation, but also argue that familiar compositional strategies (in sonata
form) can, and perhaps should be reconciled with aesthetics of variation. For example, transition
sections that begin as a repeat of the main theme are familiar in Classical sonata forms, and can thus
be understood as common sonata practice.70 But this practice also participates in the merging of
variation with sonata form—positioning the transition as a variation of the main theme.71 Thus, in
this dissertation, my analyses appeal to the multiple facets of variation—as genre, form, and
aesthetic—to interrogate the interactions between formal functions and Schubert’s use of variation
techniques, demonstrating complex form-functional relationships more profitably understood from
the perspective of variation.
example of this, see Xavier Hascher, “Detours, Wrong Tracks and Dead Ends: The Wanderer in the Labyrinth of
Schubert’s Late Instrumental Music” in Schubert’s Late Music: History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian
Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). Not only does the title continue to discursively reinforce tropes
of Schubert’s inability to handle large-scale forms, the text further contributes to such narratives: “[the subordinate
theme] is a paradox, a form of impossibility … tangible and insubstantial … in and out of reality,” Ibid., 278.
70 Both Caplin’s and Hepokoski and Darcy’s transition types include repetitions of thematic material that dissolve. See
Caplin, Classical Form, 127–29 and Hepokoski and Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory, 101–102.
71 While some of Schubert’s transitions based on main theme material fit with Classical precedents, others highlight the
variational aspect of this practice (see, for example, D. 958/i, which I discuss in greater detail in Chapter 4).
22
Contextualizing Analysis: Variation in Schubert’s Musical-Social Life
Variation is essential to understanding Schubert’s music because of the amount of engagement he
maintained with techniques of variation, both when improvising accompaniments to social dances
and when composing works in the theme and variation genre. As a result of his immersion in the
sound world of variation, the aesthetics of variation permeate the composer’s idiom. This contextual
framework guides my analyses in future chapters. In support of this claim I assess historiographical
and sociological studies of Biedermeier Vienna, highlighting not only the role of music in class and
identity formation (especially important at this historical moment, with the emerging middle classes
in Vienna) but also the types of musical activities in which Schubert would have regularly partaken.
Understanding broader trends of musical production and consumption in Biedermeier Vienna helps
contextualize Schubert’s musical-social life between 1815 and 1828, Schubert’s adult years.
Musical life in Schubert’s Vienna, the cultural context in which Schubert was performing and
composing, would surely have influenced his style. 72 The second part of this chapter is thus
concerned with identifying the specifics of Schubert’s musical-social life that fostered an
involvement with variation.73 I argue that this variation practice translated into his composed works,
including not only compositions meant for domestic, private or semi-private, consumption by
amateur musicians (e.g., theme-and-variation sets) but also works composed for public or semi-
public performances (e.g., sonata forms).74
72 Detailed surveys of both public and private musical life in Vienna during Schubert’s lifetime include Otto Biba,
“Schubert’s Position in Viennese Musical Life,” 19th-Century Music 3, no. 2 (November 1979); Alice M. Hanson, Musical
Life in Biedermeier Vienna (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985); Schubert’s Vienna, ed. by Raymond Erickson
(Yale University Press, 1997); Marie Sumner Lott, The Social Worlds of Nineteenth-Century Chamber Music: Composers,
Consumers, Communities (Urbana, Chicago, and Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2015). While couched within a
larger study of Schubert’s instrumental music composed between 1824 and 1828, Jon Gingerich details concert life in
Vienna, creating a seemingly comprehensive image of what chamber music was performed in Vienna at the
Abendunterhaltungen (“evening entertainments”) and at Schuppanzigh’s concerts between 1824 and 1828 in Schubert’s
Beethoven Project (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).
73 I therefore refrain from detailing the processes of canon formation ongoing through the early nineteenth century. For
more on this, see Jim Samson, “The Musical Work and Nineteenth-Century History” and “The Great Composer” in The
Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); William Weber, The Great
Transformation of Musical Taste: Concert Programming from Haydn to Brahms (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).
Carl Dahlhaus addresses the aesthetic issues present in canon formation in “Absolute Music as an Esthetic Paradigm,” in
The Idea of Absolute Music, trans. Roger Lustig (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1989).
74 To say that the theme-and-variation sets were meant for consumption while chamber music or piano sonatas were not
is disingenuous; rather, it is the specific mode of consumption that differentiates these genres. On the one hand, a
broader, more amateur audience consumed theme-and-variation sets—they were published, meant for private
consumption, to be played by the purchaser. The production of these pieces resulted directly in earned income for
Schubert. On the other hand, sonata forms belonged to multi-movement works for chamber, or large ensemble, and—
while still meant for consumption—the nature of such consumption was based on listening, gaining entry to a society
concert, which in turn garnered more cultural capital for these pieces as aesthetic works of art. Another distinguishing
factor is the mass production of theme-and-variation sets, which was not afforded to the instrumental genres involving
sonata forms, at least with specific regard to Schubert’s catalog because most of his sonata forms were published
posthumously.
23
The extent of social, economic, and political change in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-
century Vienna created the space for a new musical practice to take shape, and with it, a market for
variation sets: “Playing music at home, in groups or singly[,] became a central factor in home life and
afforded great pleasure to a society dependent largely on itself for entertainment.”75 This practice,
known as Hausmusik, blossomed through the Biedermeier years, a period dating from the Congress
of Vienna in 1815 through the onset of revolutions across Europe in 1848. 76 Socially, the rise of the
middle classes in Vienna (and the delineation of an upper-middle class, the bourgeoisie) meant more
amateur musicians in need of music to play both by themselves and with friends in the home.
Economically, the bourgeoisie had means in the form of both money—to purchase sheet music and
instruments—and free time, during which music making was a popular activity. This contrasts with
aristocratic consumption in that middle-class families typically performed themselves rather than
hiring performers.77 With regards to the political climate in Vienna, domesticity and privacy became
increasingly valued because policing practices (both public and secret) and censorship created a
culture of cynicism regarding the public sphere.78
The most popular public genre in Vienna was Italian opera.79 Among composers of Italian
opera, Rossini was the favorite of the Viennese.80 Between 1816 and 1825, at least twenty-five
Rossini operas were performed in Vienna. 81 It is thus worth noting the conflict between
contemporary constructions of musical influence and the historical reality. That is, scholars often
take Beethoven to be the most impactful figure on a maturing Schubert, and ignore the fact that
75 Waltraud Heindl, “People, Class Structure, and Society,” in Schubert’s Vienna (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1997), 52.
76 While the Hausmusik tradition existed prior to the nineteenth century, the socio-political climate of Vienna during the
Biedermeier period promoted widespread growth of this practice among the bourgeoisie. For more on this tradition as it
relates to the development of chamber music in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, with specific attention paid to
Mozart (and his circle) see Edward Klorman, Mozart’s Music of Friends: Social Interplay in the Chamber Works (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2016). As for delineating this historical period, multiple names have been given to recognize
these years in Vienna’s history (e.g., Restaurationszeit, Stillstand, Vormärz, ‘age of Metternich’ etc.). Biedermeier (calling to
mind the notion of “Gemütlichkeit ”) privileges the socio-cultural disposition of the period. Alice Hanson narrows the
range by 18 years (1815–1830) in Musical Life, 1–2.
77 “The aristocrats imitated their emperors, and the developing bourgeoisie imitated the aristocracy. But members of the
middle-classes economized by playing the instruments themselves instead of hiring an orchestra.” Heindl, “People, Class
Structure, and Society,” 53.
78 While discussing in detail the “severity and effects of Metternich’s ‘system’ of censors and secret police” is beyond the
scope of this chapter, the political climate bears mentioning as a contributing factor regarding the increased importance
of home life, which created, in turn, a larger market for music to be consumed/produced in the home. For a thorough
discussion of the political climate in Austria at this time, see Hanson, “Musicians and the Austrian Police” in Musical Life,
34–60.
79 Hanson, Musical Life, 65.
80 Warren Roberts notes the popularity of Rossini among the Viennese, suggesting that in post-Napoleonic Vienna, all
classes would have valued “music of geniality, camaraderie, and escapism.” Warren Roberts, Rossini and Post-Napoleonic
Europe (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2015), 115.
81 W. Edgar Yates, Theatre in Vienna: A Critical History, 1776–1995 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 142.
24
Schubert probably heard just as much of Rossini’s music as he did of Beethoven’s (if not more).82
Moreover, we must remember that while many of Beethoven’s works performed in the early
nineteenth century are programmed today, musical taste, and therefore concert programs, differed:
for example, the overtures would have been more popular in some circles than the symphonies.
While Italian opera dominated the musical theater scene, large public venues for concerts—
halls dedicated to musical performances—did not exist in Vienna until the city’s first concert house
was built in 1831.83 The spaces for larger performing forces prior to 1831 served multiple purposes.
Moreover, renting a space was costly, and added to that were extra fees (such as the cost of heating,
lighting, programs, and tickets).84 Thus, Vienna’s musical life “revolved instead around private and
semi-public events” held in smaller venues (e.g., churches and homes).85
In Vienna two societies, the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (GdMf, established in 1812) and
the Concerts Spirituels (established in 1819), put on prominent concert series. 86 The GdMf
sponsored two series: public society concerts (held four times a year in a large hall), with programs
that “championed the cause of serious art music by ‘classical’ composers of the recent past” and
semi-public Abendunterhaltungen, held in a small hall (there were between sixteen and eighteen
Abendunterhaltungen concerts per year through the 1820s). 87 As John Gingerich observes,
Abendunterhaltungen typically featured “fashionably virtuosic” music; if the essence of the society
concert was the symphony, Abendunterhaltungen programs relied primarily on vocal music (e.g.,
part songs) and virtuosic instrumental genres (e.g., variations or the rondo concertante/brillant).88
Indeed, Schubert’s part songs and Lieder were quite popular at Abendunterhaltungen; a performance
of “Erlkönig” was given on January 25th, 1821, and between 1823 and 1828 Schubert was second
only to Rossini in terms of the number of works performed (36 to Rossini’s 100 selections).89
Ignaz Schuppanzigh’s string quartet concerts were equally influential in the shaping of
musical taste in Biedermeier Vienna. Held in the same hall as the Abendunterhaltungen and billed as
82 Indeed, as William Weber argues, in the middle of the second decade of the nineteenth century, the Viennese
preferred Rossini and Mercadante to Beethoven and Mozart. Weber, The Great Transformation of Musical Taste, 198.
83 Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 15.
85 Margaret Notley, “Schubert’s Social Music: the ‘forgotten genres’” in The Cambridge Companion to Schubert, ed. by
Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 139.

86 GdMf concerts were put on and attended by members of the society, which comprised a mixture of amateur and
professional musicians It is worth noting that being an “amateur” or “dilettante” simply meant that performing was not
one’s primary source of income. Plenty of people considered to be amateur musicians at this time were still incredibly
proficient.
88 Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 64–65, 177, 198.
89 According to Gingerich, between 1821 and Schubert’s death, “the Abendunterhaltungen presented at least thirty-one
performances of eighteen different songs, and at least thirteen performances of nine different partsongs.” What is more,
he believes these numbers to be too low since the programs for the 1821–1822 season are lost. Schubert’s Beethoven Project,
64, 197.
25
public concerts for connoisseurs, Schuppanzigh’s concerts maintained a focus on instrumental
music: specifically, chamber music, for in Vienna Schuppanzigh was renowned for his string quartet
playing (with especial regards to Beethoven’s quartets).90 Schuppanzigh’s quartet series had two runs
in Vienna, first from 1804–1816 and again from 1823–1830.91 These programs, typically comprising
three string quartets apiece, contrasted with so-called miscellany concerts put on for a larger public
which featured works of various genres, including both instrumental and vocal music. The quartet
repertoire programmed—as advertised by Schuppanzigh himself—consisted of quartets composed
by “the most famous masters”: of 313 pieces performed in over 106 concerts, “100 were by
Beethoven, 88 by Haydn, and 78 by Mozart.”92 The string quartet, once a privilege of the aristocrat
who could afford to house a resident ensemble, was now a facet of upper-middle class identity. As
such, Schuppanzigh not only brought aristocratic music into the “public” sphere, but also sought to
educate listeners through his musical selections at his concerts.93
Gingerich considers in detail the significance of Schuppanzigh’s quartet concerts with
regards to Schubert’s professional development.94 He argues that Schubert eschewed the potential of
having his instrumental music performed at Abendunterhaltungen, instead saving his compositions
for Schuppanzigh’s series because of the conditions of their reception: his chamber music would “be
heard in a forum of connoisseurs … in the exclusive company of ‘classical’ genres of instrumental
chamber music,” played by “Beethoven’s violinist” and its performance would likely “be more
polished.” Perhaps most importantly, for Gingerich, Schubert’s name “would appear in the nearly
exclusive company of ‘classical’ composers, in a series devoted above all to Beethoven’s chamber
music, as opposed to keeping company with a host of amateur local composers.”95 Schubert secured
90 Ibid, 59.
91 For detailed descriptions of what was played, when, and by whom—culled from primary sources—during
Schuppanzigh’s concert series, as well as the GdMf society concerts and Abendunterhaltungen, see “Schuppanzigh and
Schubert’s Chamber Music” and “The Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Schubert, and his symphony” in Gingerich,
Schubert’s Beethoven Project.
92 Ibid., 67.
93 Ibid., 70. It is also worth noting that Schuppanzigh’s classicizing urge reflects a larger zeitgeist of musical idealism
arising in the first half of the nineteenth century. Subscribers to this mode of thought distinguished some genres as being
more aesthetically and artistically worthy than others, and sought to expel “unworthy genres” like dance music,
variations, and potpourris from concerts. That is, these critics, like Ignaz Ritter van Mosel (who publically decried
Viennese musical taste, “voicing a preference for Beethoven symphonies or Mozart concertos over miscellaneous
pabulum”) wanted to reform the popular miscellany concert, prioritizing instrumental works. However, such critical
opinions clashed with the Viennese upper classes, who still “favored Strauss and Thalberg to Mozart and Haydn,” well
into the 1830s. For more on the influence of nineteenth-century musical idealism on processes of canon formation, and
its impact on the general public’s understanding of what constituted “Classical music,” see Weber, “Musical idealism and
the crisis of the old order” in The Great Transformation of Musical Taste.
94 Of especial relevance is instrumental genre in this regard. As a young, largely unknown composer of instrumental
music, it would be an extreme fiscal challenge for Schubert to mount a performance of a symphony—to rent a space, to
hire musicians, etc. Schuppanzigh’s quartet concerts provided the perfect setting for Schubert’s public foray into
instrumental music.
95 Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 72.
26
the performance of three chamber works programmed during his lifetime, the A-minor quartet (D.
804), the Octet (D. 803), and the B-flat Piano Trio (D. 898).96
As we have seen, despite the city’s lack of a proper concert hall, concert life in Vienna
thrived in the first half of the nineteenth century. However, there was a barrier to entry for these
semi-public (and even “public”) events: class. An individual required a degree of cultural capital
(typically accompanied by fiscal capital) to gain admittance to events meant for the bourgeoisie, or
the upper-middle class.97 Societies like the GdMf, and concert series like Schuppanzigh’s, played a
crucial role in processes of class identity formation, and aided in distinguishing between strata of the
emerging middle classes in Vienna. Restrictions for the GdMf included not only having to apply for
membership (approval of applications generally relied on one being a well-connected individual
within society) but also the ability to pay the membership fee, purchase tickets, and participate in
performances by either playing or singing. The Abendunterhaltung “Verordnung,” published in
1818, states clearly the expectations regarding the social status of ticket holders (members) and their
guests: “tickets will go only to persons who are well known to the owners of the same, therefore
only to persons who can decently appear in a society of the cultured classes.”98 It is clear from these
guidelines that entrance into the society, and events put on by the GdMf, were not truly public
affairs.
Regarding social position, Schubert straddled the division between classes in Viennese
society. In his adult years he socialized with members of the upper-middle class, a social stratum he
was not born into. As the son of a teacher, and as an individual who spent time working as a teacher
himself, Schubert belonged to the lower-middle class. This profession alone “did not pay well
enough or provide one with enough cultural cachet to partake of all the benefits of middle-class
life.”99 However, Schubert’s attendance at the Vienna Stadtkonvikt gave him the opportunity to
advance his class position for, during his studies, he was socialized along with children of upper-
middle class families. 100 Two relationships stand out in this regard. The first is Schubert’s
96 Gingerich argues that Schubert—having already made a name for himself as a composer of lieder—considered the next
step in his professional ascent was to earn a reputation in the instrumental genres more typically associated with
Beethoven: string quartets, piano sonatas, and symphonies.
97 In my discussion of class I follow Sumner Lott, for whom the term middle class denotes “families or individuals
without hereditary aristocratic titles who earned their livings through intellectual or critical endeavors rather than
through physical labor. This group includes the upper echelon of the middle classes, the bourgeoisie [e.g., factory owner]
… At the other end of the middle-class spectrum lie those individuals and families whom we might separate from the
working class by profession [e.g., school teachers].” Nineteenth-Century Chamber Music, 9–10.
98 Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 69 translated from Kurze Nachricht über Zweck und Verfassung der Anstalt der
wöchentlichen musikalischen Abend-Unterhaltungen (Vienna: Anton Strauß, 1818, 12), emphasis mine.
99 Sumner Lott, Social Worlds 10.
100 For more on the class make-up of Schubert and his circle, see David Gramit, “‘The Passion for Friendship’: Music,
Cultivation, and Identity in Schubert’s Circle,” in The Cambridge Companion to Schubert ed. Christopher H. Gibbs
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997).
27
relationship with Josef von Spaun, whom he met while at the Stadtkonvikt (the two remained close
until Schubert’s death). Spaun played a central role in garnering cultural capital for the budding
composer, providing Schubert access to both a circle of friends and a lifestyle otherwise beyond his
social status.101
The second notable relationship Schubert cultivated in Vienna was with the Sonnleithner
family, who were also crucial in garnering Schubert acceptance and renown among upper-middle
class consumers of music. Following their introduction in 1816, Leopold Sonnleithner participated in
evenings of recreational music making hosted by Schubert’s father, Franz Theodor and, in turn,
Schubert began attending the salon of Leopold’s father Ignaz.102 Through these events Schubert and
the Sonnleithners built a rapport leading to their eventual backing of his public musical endeavors.
For example, his first application for membership to the GdMf—as a relative unknown in Vienna—
was rejected in 1818. By 1821, having cultivated a relationship with the Sonnleithners, Schubert was
listed as a member on the program of society concerts.103 Through these connections Schubert was
able to secure performances of his lieder which garnered publicity and acclaim.104 Because of the
Sonnleithners, Schubert was able to secure both fiscal and social capital the likes of which he had
never experienced (given his background).105
(Musical) Social Life: From the Salons of Schubert and Sonnleithner to Schubertiades
Prior to 1820 Schubert participated in the Hausmusik tradition by attending events of his father,
Franz Theodor, as well as those held by Ignaz Schuppanzigh. These musical evenings centered on
the playing of chamber music with family or friends—a common form of masculine sociability.106
101 As Gramit notes, the student body at the boarding school “consisted primarily of boys and young men from families
of considerably higher social standing than Schubert’s.” While the members of Schubert’s the circle of friends was often
in flux (as the men aged, people moved in and out of Vienna), their social status was consistently upper-middle class.
Ultimately, “their [Schubert’s friends’] social connections were far more powerful than his own, and they willingly
exploited them to his benefit, making crucial introductions, providing performance opportunities, and facilitating the
publication of his music. Ibid., 57 and 64.
102 Not only did Sonnleithner document the shift in repertoire, he was also keenly aware of social class, noting the
middle-class status of participants: “Apart from a few professional musicians, most of the gentlemen belonged to the
merchant-tradesman or minor official class.” Sumner Lott, Social Worlds, 99, taken from Leopold Sonnleithner,
“Musikalischen Skizzen.” Sonnleithner’s accounts of Schubert family gatherings were published in part four of the six-
part series Musikalischen Skizzen aus Alt-Wien.
103 Knowing Leopold’s father Ignaz (the host of a renowned Viennese salon) and his uncle Josef (a lawyer and an
influential figure in musical circles as a leader and founder of the GdMf) was crucial in the reevaluation of Schubert’s
application. Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 183.
104 First in Ignaz’s salon in 1820; then in 1821 at an Abendunterhaltung in 1821; and, six weeks later, at an annual benefit
concert hosted by the Society of Ladies of the Nobility for the Promotion of the Good and the Useful. Gingerich,
Schubert’s Beethoven Project, 181–2.
105 Ibid., 182.
106 Sumner Lott discusses the nature of chamber music in the early nineteenth century as a bourgeois, male-dominated
practice. Although the gatherings grew in size, they remained spaces for male music making and socialization. Sumner
Lott, Social Worlds, 99–100.
28
Correlations between Schubert’s social music making and compositional activities appear as early as
the family quartet period.107 (As a boy Schubert played violin and viola in quartets at home with his
father and brothers). Brian Newbould notes the family quartet would have been “one of the stimuli
responsible for the proliferation of quartets issuing from the young composer’s pen in his first seven
or eight years of creativity.”108 Between 1813 and 1820 these evenings of chamber music changed as
the number of participants increased, expanding to accommodate readings of orchestral music
(including Schubert’s early forays into the symphonic genre).
A shift occurred ca. 1820 in the types of music making that occupied Schubert’s Hausmusik
evenings. The Schubert and Sonnleithner family gatherings ceased, and Schubert spent more
evenings with his circle of friends (the Schubertkreis). He began attending and hosting parties that,
while maintaining music as a focal point, favored genres involving the piano (e.g., Lieder, sonatas,
and duets). Activities at these Schubertiades engaged participants in more than music making or
listening: social dances, a prominent facet of Viennese social life throughout the nineteenth century,
occupied a large portion of the evenings, and Schubert’s role in providing music is well documented
in both his own diary entries and in the memoirs of others. This would have involved a great deal of
improvisation, and the sheer amount of time engaged with this practice surely influenced his
compositional style. That is, through this facet of Schubert’s musical-social life—extemporizing
music to accompany hours of social dancing at parties—elements of variation come to the fore as
crucial components of Schubert’s compositional toolbox, pervading not only his late works for
piano, but also those for chamber ensemble and orchestra.
The first recorded Schubertiade took place on January 26th, 1821 at the home of Franz von
Schober.109 Schober was one of Schubert’s closest friends through his adult years—they met in 1815
through Josef von Spaun, a lifelong friend from the Stadtkonvikt. In 1821, Schubert moved into the
Schober family home.110 The entertainment at Schubertiades differed from evenings of chamber
music reading: dinners, games, and dancing were a part of the evening proceedings, alongside the
singing of Schubert’s Lieder or the performance of music for solo piano, or piano duet. Most
important among these activities was dancing. As an activity associated with bourgeois class identity,
and thus reflective of Schubert’s circle, social dancing would have been extremely common at these
domestic affairs. As Alice Hanson notes, the vogue for social dance was evident in both public and
private spheres: “the great public dance halls of Vienna—especially the Sperl (opened 1807) and the
107 For more on Schubert’s compositions performed at these events, see Newbould, Schubert: The Music and the Man
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997), 34.

108 Ibid., 110.
109 Ibid., 174.
110 This residence also played host to a series of readings, literary analogues to the musical Schubertiades, which took
place three times a week in 1822. Ibid., 175.

29
Apollo-Saal (1808)—could often hold a thousand people at a time (an astonishing six thousand in
the Apollo-Saal if one counts both grounds and dancehalls) and quickly became great gathering
places for wealthier middle class citizens.”111 Because social dance was such a significant part of
social life in Biedermeier Vienna, in addition to these public venues, house balls and a wide array of
private gatherings and dance parties were common.112 We see this reflected in accounts of dancing at
the Schubertiades documented by those who attended such events; for instance, Franz von
Hartmann recalls going “to Spaun’s, where there was a big, big Schubertiade … When the music was
done there was grand eating and then dancing.”113
From diaries and memoirs we know that Schubert attended such “house balls and parties,”
as well as the Schubertiades, and he regularly provided the music for social dancing at these
events.114 What is more, while Schubert was a prolific performer and composer of dance repertoire
(forty percent of the works published during his lifetime were dances) his improvisatory prowess in
the genre is just as well documented.115 In an account from 1857, Leopold Sonnleithner recalls that
“he never danced, but was always ready to sit down at the piano, where for hours he improvised the
most beautiful waltzes.”116 Heinrich Anschültz, in 1866, remembered inviting over “a group of
friends, including Schubert too … [S]oon the conversation turned to dancing. Schubert, who had
already given us a few piano pieces, sat down at the instrument himself, in the gayest of moods, and
struck up for dancing.”117 And in 1868, Ludwig August Frankl wrote that “on Sundays there was
always dancing,” and that Schubert had “played and improvised waltzes ... till long after
midnight.”118 In improvising hours of functional dance music the importance of variation techniques
comes to the fore: as compositional techniques that primarily alter surface features, variation
techniques are well-suited to altering repeats in dance forms while retaining the overall structure.119
Before further elucidating Schubert’s engagement with improvisation as it pertains to my
analytical framework, I want to clarify the relationship I am positing between his improvisation of
social dances and the use of variation techniques. That is, I am not looking to Schubert’s composed
111 Hanson, Musical Life, 163–7.

112 “Social dance was a significant part of early-nineteenth century social life, including the gatherings of Schubert and his
friends.” Elizabeth Aldrich, “Social Dancing in Schubert’s World,” in Schubert’s Vienna ed. Raymond Erickson (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 122.
113 Otto E. Deutsch, Memoirs, 274.
114 Without going into too much detail here, accounts of dancing—and Schubert providing music—at parties either
hosted or attended by the composer abound in Deutsch’s Memoirs.

115 Aldrich, “Social Dancing,” 119.
117 Ibid., 223
118 Ibid., 265.
119 As we will see in Chapter 2, Schubert’s variation idiom relied heavily on altering surface, as opposed to structural,
features. Moreover, he tends to retain the general character of a piece (that is, character variations are rare). I thus
suggest that Schubert’s particular variation practice results from the practical requirements of his extemporaneous
varying.
30
dances to identify any variation techniques employed. Rather, I suggest that through the activity of
improvising dance music, Schubert would have employed variation techniques because they were
appropriate to the performance practice of the day.120 For example, it would have been common
practice to vary the formal repeats in small forms (like binary and small-ternary), forms commonly
used in dance music. In so doing, we can assume that Schubert would have regularly used standard
techniques of ornamentation or figuration belonging to the umbrella category of variation
techniques while improvising music for dancing.121
Often, dances improvised by Schubert at an evening gathering would be written down the
following morning, forging a connection between his improvisatory and compositional practice.122
As Kreissle notes, “on several occasions [Schubert] improvised dance music, in order that he might
afterwards write down the particular dances which pleased him.”123 Thus, there existed a fluidity
between improvisation and composition that, I argue, is reflected in other formal genres, specifically
sonata forms. Scholars have observed the impact of hours spent playing social dance music, and
improvising, on Schubert’s compositional style. David Neumeyer refers to the dances as “sound
experiments,” Maurice Brown calls them “notebooks,” and Brian Newbould compares
compositional strategies employed in dances with sonata-form movements.124 While these authors
are referring primarily to Schubert’s harmonic idiom, I believe the effects of Schubert’s social
musical practice on his compositional style are also evident with regards to musical form, in general,
and repetition, specifically.
We know that as an adult Schubert frequently improvised to accompany social dancing, and
we have gleaned through the memoirs of his friends (and from what we know of early nineteenth-
120 I return to this point shortly.

121 The connection between variation and improvisation manifests in other ways in Schubert’s dance music. For
example, David Neumeyer suggests that “it is entirely plausible that Schubert might have played a version of D. 365 no.
6 at some point not long after the publication of Opus 9 and decided to use its distinctive opening formula to improvise
a new waltz.” The act of taking pre-existing material—like the incipit of a waltz—and reusing it in a new work is
exemplary of Schubert’s variation practice. I refer to this scenario as repurposing material, and I discuss this as one of
the idiomatic variation techniques employed by Schubert in Chapter 2. Albeit speculative, Neumeyer’s observation
creates yet another link between variation and improvisation in Schubert’s social music making. Neumeyer goes on to
note that this particular waltz appears three times in different manuscripts, and that “some of these are variants.” Thus,
variation is reflected through Schubert’s dance music publications. David Neumeyer, “Gesellschaftspiel; Pianos” in
Hearing Schubert D779N13 (blog), December 14, 2009, https://utexas-
ir.tdl.org/bitstream/handle/2152/29532/Neumeyer_Schubert--dance_and_dancing.pdf?sequence=3.
122 Margaret Notley locates the resulting works “somewhere between compositions and recorded improvisations” in
“Schubert’s Social Music,” 140. Walburga Litschauer also discusses the tension between forms of musical production
with regards to Schubert’s dance music in “Franz Schuberts Tänze: Zwischen Improvisation und Werk,” Musiktheorie 10,
no. 1 (1995).
123 Kreissle, The Life of Franz Schubert, 2 vols, vol. 1, trans. Arthur Duke Coleridge (London: Longmans, Green, and Co.,
1869), 215. See also Sonnleithner’s remarks in Deutsch, Memoirs, 121: “those [improvisations] he liked he repeated, to
remember them and write them out afterwards.”
124 David Neumeyer, “Gesellschaftspiel; Pianos”; Maurice J.E. Brown, Schubert: A Critical Biography (New York: St. Martin
Press, 1958), 230; Brian Newbould, “Cornered in the Middle Eight: Dance Miniaturism vis-à-vis Sonata,” in Schubert the
Progressive: History, Performance Practice, Analysis, ed. Brian Newbould (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998).
31
century keyboard pedagogy) that he was trained in the art of improvisation from a young age.125
Moreover, accounts of his improvisatory prowess (as early as age seven) in memoirs reveal that
Schubert was skilled at the art of improvisation, and regularly accessed this skillset. Recall, for
example, how pleased Schubert’s first teacher was with his ability to improvise at age seven. Or, the
following reminiscence penned by Spaun: “I once found him alone in the music-room sitting at the
piano … At my request and aware of my sympathy he played me a minuet of his own invention.”126
Remarks from another friend, Lois Schlösser, similarly attest to Schubert’s affinity for improvisation:
having heard “sounds of the piano from outside [I] opened the door very softly, so as not to
interrupt [Schubert] … I pressed him to continue … whereupon he immediately sat down at the
instrument again and soon afterwards played me the variations of the Impromptu in B flat major,
2/4 time … he played them on this occasion from the sketch, improvising, as it were, rather than
actually playing them from the music.”127 While the terminology in the remarks of Spaun and
Schlösser is somewhat vague (e.g., “invention” could refer to a composition rather than an
improvisation—perhaps in this case one played from memory), both scenarios depict Schubert in
the act of extemporaneous keyboard playing.
Techniques of variation would have been an integral part of Schubert’s toolbox as a routine
improviser. Historically, variation techniques have been associated with improvisatory genres, such
as extemporized variation sets on pre-existing tunes, varied realizations of a figured bass/continuo
playing, or the fantasia.128 As Elaine Sisman notes in her seminal study of the Classical variation,
“extemporaneous varying—that is, variation as performance practice—dominated all discussions of
varying in the first half of the [eighteenth] century.”129 Variation was essential to improvisation
because it offered a means of imparting surface alterations while retaining the underlying structure
of the original content, be it a theme or (figured) bass line. That is, varying pre-existing material (e.g.,
125 “Around 1800s it was widely understood that a trained keyboardist … would improvise as a matter of course.” Dana
Gooley, “Saving Improvisation: Hummel and the Free Fantasia in the Early Nineteenth Century,” in The Oxford
Handbook of Critical Improvisation Studies, vol. 2, ed. George E. Lewis and Benjamin Piekut (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2016), 185. Gooley cites Schubert in a list of “significant instrumental composers” who practiced “preluding and
free extemporization.”
127 Ibid., 330.
128 For more on the history of variation documented in “composition treatises, performance manuals, critical essays,
dictionaries and encyclopedias” as it relates to improvisation, pedagogy, and composition, see Roman Ivanovitch,
“Mozart and the Environment of Variation,” PhD diss. (Yale University 2004), 9–20. Elaine Sisman also discusses in
detail the history of variation, and disentangles the complexities of the term, for it has come to mean many things. She
confronts the tensions between variation as a form vs. technique, and as part of either an improvised vs. composed
medium. What these notions of variation share is the preservation of unity in variety, achieved through the use of select
compositional techniques that alter surface, rather than structural, features. See “Variation as Form and Technique in
Eighteenth-Century Musical Writings,” in Haydn and the Classical Variation.
129 Ibid., 52.
32
a borrowed tune or a melody recently invented) was not only an efficient way to derive musical
material, but also aesthetically pleasing.130
In the latter half of the eighteenth and into the nineteenth century, improvisatory techniques
employed in extemporaneous acts of varying were codified through both compositions and treatises.
Sisman cites C.P.E. Bach as an example of a composer who felt that the practice of “varying
extemporaneously the two reprises of an allegro … is excellent but much abused” and who,
accordingly, composed varied reprises himself for a published set of Sechs Sonaten fürs Clavier mit
veränderten Reprisen (1760). 131 In Bach’s composed-out varied reprises, “the techniques used …
reflected ex tempore variation pure and simple: melody undergoes the greatest change, via
ornamentation, diminution, and changes of register and contour. Modifications of the bass are
minimal, and although inner voices are added, the harmonies remain the same.”132 By the end of the
eighteenth century, rather than trust the performer to vary in good taste, the practice of writing out
ornamented or embellished versions of repeated passages became more commonplace. In turn,
variation techniques came to form a set of compositional techniques in their own right (even though
they evolved as improvisational devices).
While composers took certain improvisatory freedoms away from performers, the practice
of extemporaneous keyboard playing remained a facet of musical life throughout the eighteenth and
into the nineteenth century. For example, Edward Klorman discusses Mozart’s continued
engagement with keyboard improvisations, a skill for which he was held in high regard.133 Citing
accounts of Mozart’s performances at both house parties and more formal house concerts recorded
in the memoirs of attendees, Klorman establishes Mozart’s continued practice of improvising in
musical performance. Ultimately, as a form of music making “experienced, so to speak, in the
present tense,” keyboard improvisation (along with sight reading in a chamber ensemble) continued
to hold value for musicians like Mozart and his contemporaries.134
In the nineteenth century changing musical practices altered the relationship between
improvisation and composition. As Dana Gooley notes, in the eighteenth century these two aspects
“belonged to a continuum of music making,” thus occupying a “shared conceptual territory.” 135 This
130 For more on aesthetics of variation—prominent in the eighteenth century but overshadowed by organicist aesthetics
in the nineteenth century—see Chapter 2.
131 C.P.E. Bach, Versuch über die Wahre Art, das Clavier zu Spielen, 165–6, quoted in Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation,
58.
132 Ibid., 60.
133 Klorman, Mozart’s Music of Friends.
134 Ibid., 89.
135 Gooley, “Saving Improvisation,” 188.
33
was not the case in the nineteenth century.136 Many factors contributed to the growing division
between improvisation and composition. First, the “work” (as a concept in and of itself) became
ever-more privileged; not only as something that could be heard repeatedly, but also as a product
resulting from a valorized mode of production, for composing was assumed to be a “mediated” and
“reflective” task. 137 Moreover, the musical profession was changing: the nineteenth century
witnessed the decline of the Kapellmeister position (which would require improvisatory prowess) while
musicians sought more gainful employment composing pieces for the amateur market, or playing
public concerts (to attract potential students or consumers of their published works).138
While composing and improvising crystallized as two distinct musical arts in the nineteenth
century, we know that improvisation was still a valuable skill for keyboardists—hence Schubert’s
engagement with extemporaneous keyboard playing from a young age. The value of improvisation is
evinced by numerous manuals on keyboard playing published throughout the nineteenth century
(e.g., A. E. M. Grétry, 1802; Carl Czerny, 1829; Frédéric Kalkbrenner, 1849) and by the popularity of
extemporization in concerts (e.g., Beethoven, Hummel, and Liszt).139 David Montgomery, in his
monograph on nineteenth-century performance practice confirms the tradition of improvisation
pedagogy in Vienna, citing numerous manuals for both organists and pianists alike published
between 1800 and 1834. 140 The contents of these manuals make clear the expectations of
keyboardists: to be able to improvise anything from smaller forms (e.g., theme-and-variation sets,
“free fantasies,” and preludes) to smaller sections of music (e.g., cadenzas and modulating passages
connecting preludes or other works in distant keys). Perhaps too obvious to note in a manual are
other practical applications of improvisation: for example, Schubert’s ability to improvise segues
from one dance to the next, maintaining a steady flow of music for hours at a time certainly comes
to mind.
136 As Klorman notes, the word “improvise entered the European musical lexicon only in the nineteenth century, after
improvisation declined as a standard practice and came to be regarded as a ‘marked’ activity.” Klorman, Mozart’s Music of
Friends, 89. For more on the etymology of “improvise,” see Stephen Blum, “Recognizing Improvisation,” in In the Course
of Performance: Studies in the World of Musical Improvisation, ed. Bruno Nettl and Melinda Russell (University of Chicago
Press, 1998).
137 Gooley, “Saving Improvisation,” 187.
138 Ibid.
139 André-Ernest-Modeste Grétry, Méthode Simple pour Apprendre à Préluder en Peu Temps avec Toutes les Ressources de l’harmonie
(Paris: Imprimerie de la République, 1802); Carl Czerny, A Systematic Introduction to Improvisation on the Pianoforte, trans.
Alice L. Mitchell (New York: Da Capo Press, 1982); Frédéric Kalkbrenner, Traité d’harmonie du Pianiste, Principes Rationnels
de la Modulation pour Apprendre à Préluder et à Improviser, op. 185 (Amsterdam: Heuwekemeyer, 1970).
140 David Montgomery, Franz Schubert’s Music in Performance: Compositional Ideals, Notational Intent, Historical Realities,
Pedagogical Foundations, Monographs in Musicology no. 11 (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2003), 190.
34
Nineteenth-century treatises differ from their eighteenth-century counterparts, privileging
the teaching of “virtuosic figurations.” 141 This contrasts with seventeenth- and eighteenth-century
treatises that would “first lay a harmonic groundwork with figured bass progressions to which
keyboard figurations can later be applied.”142 Czerny’s treatise (first published in Vienna in 1829, the
year after Schubert’s death) exemplifies this practice, forgoing discussions of harmony or figured
bass in favor of listing methods for fleshing out increasingly longer units of musical form.143 It is
thus organized by formal type, from smaller forms to more complex ones (it begins with the prelude
and ends with the capriccio). Each section contains a brief description of the form itself, followed by
a discussion of what is appropriate to the form, and ends with examples composed by Czerny.144 In
chapter seven, “Concerning Variations,” Czerny lists techniques to employ when improvising
variations:
The techniques at the disposal of the performer at this point are infinite in number. For
example:
First. In all types of passagework and figuration, in triplets, sextolets, etc., not only in
the right hand but also in the left, or even with both hands simultaneously. In the
course of this, however, the melody or at least the harmonic pattern of the theme is
to be retained in its principal components.
Second. In all kinds of trills, embellishments, etc.
Third. In the Cantabile, in which a melody can be fashioned even from the bass and
the harmony of the theme.
Fourth. In sustained-note style, where along with enriched harmonic activity the
theme can be retained in the top voice or in the bass.
Fifth. Even in canons, fugal movements, and the like, with themes that are suitable.
Sixth. In the change of tempo, meter, and key; thus as Adagio, as Polonaise, as
Rondo etc., and in freer development at the finale, and so forth.145
Following examples of his own, Czerny suggests the student consult composed variations by
“excellent pianists (such as Hummel, Moscheles, Kalkbrenner, Ries, et al.)” that “serve as models,”
and lists seven specific pieces “rich in content” (four by Beethoven and one a piece by Mozart,
141 Shane Levesque, “Functions and Performance Practice of Improvised Nineteenth-Century Piano Preludes,” Dutch
Journal of Music Theory 13, no. 1 (2008), 117.
142 Ibid. Alice L. Mitchell also observes the changing role of improvisation—from fleshing out figured bass lines or
continuo accompaniments in the eighteenth century to public displays of virtuosity in the nineteenth century—in the
forward to her translation of Czerny’s Introduction to Improvisation, ix–xiv.
143 Thus, we can assume that Czerny’s treatise served to codify practices in place before 1829.
144 In this style of print-form “school” the lines between improvisation and composition are further blurred by the
inclusion of examples—composed examples—to convey to the student what an ideal improvisation might sound like.
145 Czerny, Introduction to Improvisation, 108.
35
Clementi, and Hummel). 146 The brevity of this chapter suggests that anyone familiar with
improvisation would require less instruction with regards to variations because they were so
common, and techniques of variation so established.
It is safe to assume that Schubert was well versed in variation techniques considering the
amount of extemporaneous varying that would have been required to accompany social dances with
hours of music. Given his continued, sustained engagement with techniques of variation, it is
understandable that Schubert’s idiomatic compositional style is significantly indebted to the presence
of these very techniques.147 In light of my exploration of Schubert’s improvisation practice, Salzer’s
critique that the sonata forms lack the “improvisatory impulse” rings false, for variation is inherently
improvisatory. And it is the variational treatment of thematic repetition that scholars often identify
as lyricism. Thus, we can understand Schubert’s lyricism as one manifestation of the improvisatory
impulse in sonata form—one that has ironically come to be considered antithetical to the form itself.
While Schubert was frequently improvising, he was also composing in the theme and
variation genre. The publication of theme-and-variation sets would have provided the composer
with a source of income, making his continued engagement with an apparently aesthetically inferior
genre a lucrative endeavor. In Chapter 2 I examine Schubert’s written works in theme-and-variation
form, uncovering a through line from his improvisatory practice (established here) to his
compositional style. Through analyses of the seventeen published theme-and-variation sets, I
compile a set of techniques idiomatic to Schubert, constructing an idiomatic variation practice,
which provides a foundation for my form-functional analyses of sonata forms in Chapters 3 and 4.
146Ibid., 113–114.
147Kofi Agawu and Roman Ivanovitch make a similar argument with regards to Mozart and his “art” or “environment”
of variation. Kofi Agawu, “Mozart’s Art of Variation: Remarks on the First Movement of K. 503” in Mozart’s Piano
Concertos: Text, Context, Interpretation, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1996); Agawu
“Prospects for a Theory-Based Analysis of the Instrumental Music,” in Wolfgang Amadè Mozart: Essays on His Life and His
Music, ed. Stanley Sadie (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996); Roman Ivanovitch, “Mozart and the Environment
of Variation.”
-Chapter Two-
Theme-and-Variation Form
The impetus to investigate the influence of variation techniques within Schubert’s compositional
idiom comes, in part, from Carl Dahlhaus’s seminal article on Schubert’s G Major String Quartet (D.
887/i).1 While this article is best known for its positive valuation of lyricism in Schubert’s large-scale
instrumental music, Dahlhaus’s analysis has further implications for the relevance of variation in
Schubert’s oeuvre. Given the unconventional treatment of thematic repetition—specifically, its
frequency and formal positioning—and the presence of motivic connections across formal sections,
Dahlhaus places the first-movement sonata form in dialogue with theme-and-variation form: he
positions sonata form as a base template and employs variation form as a heuristic overlay, aligning
points of thematic return with conceptual variations. 2 Ultimately, for Dahlhaus, processes of
variation come to the fore in creating a “lyric-epic” sonata design.3
Aspects of Dahlhaus’s technical analysis deeply resonate with Theodor W. Adorno’s 1928
essay, “Schubert,” which considers the composer’s style from an experiential perspective.4 Adorno
primarily employs metaphors to illuminate idiomatic characteristics of Schubert’s instrumental
music, including the treatment of repetition. In so doing, he frequently turns to nineteenth-century
imagery (e.g., the wanderer archetype), and reads Schubert’s music as a landscape:
The eccentric construction of that landscape, every point equidistant from the centre, reveals
itself to the wanderer, who circles his way through it without progressing … and in circling,
the dissociated points of the landscape are scanned but never actually left. For Schubert’s
themes wander in the same way as the miller or the one left by his beloved in winter. They
know no history, only perspectival circulation, all their changes are changes of light. This
explains Schubert’s tendency to present the same theme two, even three times in different
works and in different ways … it is [not the minstrel, but] the wanderer alone who
1 Carl Dahlhaus, “Die Sonatenform bei Schubert,” Musica 32, no. 2 (1978), trans. Thilo Reinhard as “Sonata Form in
Schubert: The First Movement of the G-major String Quartet, Op. 161,” in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed.
Walter Frisch (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1986).
2 For more on D. 887/i, see Chapter 3.
3 The relationship between Schubert and lyricism is complex, extending back to the nineteenth century. For more on
Schubert’s lyricism, including how it has been co-opted by twentieth-century scholars seeking to elevate the discourse of
Schubert studies, and the under-studied role of the treatment of thematic repetition in constructing notions of “the
lyric,” see Chapter 1.
Tiedemann (Calcutta, India: Seagull books, 2009).

36
37
encounters the same passages again, unchanged yet in a different light, which are without
time and present themselves as unconnected, individual entities.5
For Adorno, the first movement of Schubert’s first A-minor Piano Sonata exemplifies such
“perspectival” shifts, for two ideas are contained in (rather than contrasted through) the first and
second themes “not for the sake of unity, but, rather, to the return of the same amid an elaborated
diversity.”6 He reads this kind of “elaborated diversity” in terms of “the changing aspect of the
eternally self identical.” 7 Adorno’s descriptions of Schubert’s repetitions highlight difference in
apparent sameness, and can therefore be interpreted through the lens of variation: there are
significant parallels between Adorno’s language and aesthetics of variation, such as the privileging of
unity in diversity. Moreover, reading the metaphors of Adorno through Dahlhaus’s definition of the
variation principle, “a commentary ‘meandering’ about the theme, illuminating it from different
sides,” makes clear the connection between techniques and processes of variation and Schubert’s
compositional style in the minds of both authors.8
Both Adorno and Dahlhaus sought appropriate discursive strategies to describe Schubert’s
music on its own terms, and, in so doing, variation came to the fore as something inherently stylistic
in Schubert’s idiom.9 Indeed, many now-familiar attributes of Schubert’s style arguably stem from
techniques of variation, including both technical elements such as paratactic construction and
intangible ones such as lyricism and nostalgia. Yet little attention has been paid to the works in
which these characteristics are most at home, namely, Schubert’s compositions in theme-and-
variation form—despite the fact that he worked with this formal genre throughout his entire career.
I established the relevance of variation techniques to Schubert’s improvisational practice in
Chapter 1. In this chapter, to further develop my analytical framework, I connect the realms of
improvisation and composition through a consideration of pieces in theme-and-variation form. I
5 Ibid., 32.
6 Ibid., 33–34.
7 Ibid., 34.
8 Carl Dahlhaus, “Sonata Form in Schubert,” 2–9. Suzannah Clark suggests that the influence of Adorno and Adolf
Bernhard Marx on Dahlhaus is reflected in his prose. Clark, Analyzing Schubert (New York: Cambridge University Press,
2011), 167. While I compare Dahlhaus’s and Adorno’s quotes directly, it is also worth noting that the language of both
authors resonates with Marx’s definition of variation form, as “a succession of repetitions of a Liedsatz (theme) in
constantly altered presentations—the consideration of the same idea from different perspectives.” A. B. Marx, Musical
Form in the Age of Beethoven: Selected Writings on Theory and Method, ed. and trans. Scott Burnham (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), 86. This notion of perspectival shift is a common thread among Marx, Adorno, and Dahlhaus.
9 Other examples of scholars approaching Schubert on his own terms include, but are not limited to, L. Poundie
Burstein, “Lyricism, Structure, and Gender in Schubert’s G Major String Quartet,” The Musical Quarterly 81, no. 1 (1997);
Leo Botstein, ed. “Memory and Schubert’s Instrumental Music,” special issue, The Musical Quarterly 84, no. 4 (Winter
2000); Scott Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth: Schubert and the Burden of Repetition,” 19th-Century
Music 29, no. 1 (2005); Su Yin Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms and the Poetics of the Lyric,” The Journal of Musicology 23,
no. 2 (2006); Benedict Taylor, “Schubert and the Construction of Memory: The String Quartet in A Minor, D. 804
(‘Rosamunde’),” Journal of the Royal Music Association 139, no. 1 (2014).
38
begin by historically situating the Classical ornamental variation in early nineteenth-century Vienna.10
That Schubert continued to compose ornamental variations in spite of their negative critical
reception at the time speaks to the genre’s retained significance. I then consider recent literature on
variation form, as well as Schubert’s contributions to the genre. Finally, I turn to analysis: through
the close study of Schubert’s published variation sets, I consider the variation techniques employed
to create a web of interconnected presentations of thematic material (contra Adorno’s understanding
of repeated passages as “unconnected, individual entities”), and construct a variation practice
idiomatic to Schubert.11 My understanding of this practice will guide my analyses of sonata forms in
subsequent chapters.
Variation Form in the Literature: Historical Context

Criticisms of Classical ornamental variations in the nineteenth century prompted their loss of aesthetic
value as “art music.” The declining status of variation form can be traced through two strands of
critical discourse.12 The first, and perhaps most frequently rehearsed, are critiques that pit sonata
form against variation form. The distinction between teleological (or processual) and additive forms,
combined with a large-scale shift in aesthetics, resulted in the elevation of the latter at the expense of
the former.13 That is, while variation form was privileged in an aesthetic context valuing unity in
diversity, within an organicist framework (that dominated nineteenth-century aesthetic discourse)
sonata form came to define compositional artistry and craftsmanship. Within this hierarchy of
musical forms the compositional techniques associated with variation, primarily affecting surface
features, lost value: they fail “to penetrate and transform the thematic model like ‘deeper’
contrapuntal, characteristic, developmental, or transformational techniques.”14 As such, techniques
of variation came to be viewed as incompatible with, or detrimental to, processes of thematic
10 Throughout this chapter I employ both ornamental variation and Classical ornamental variation interchangeably,
referring to a style of variation popular in the late eighteenth century.

11 Adorno, “Schubert,” 33.
12 For more on the transition of variation form from a genre associated with art music to one more closely related to
historically contemporaneous popular musics, see Elaine R. Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1993), 77.
13 Important large-scale societal shifts in aesthetics are discussed in Sisman, Ibid. See especially “The Rhetoric of
Variation” and “Variation as Form and Technique in Eighteenth-Century Musical Writings.”

14 Ibid., 1–2. We see the belittling of variation techniques well into the twentieth century. See, for example, Maurice
Brown’s perplexing assessment of Schubert’s works, claiming that they are “devoid of such academic contrivances as
augmentation, diminution, inversion and so on—devices which, as one eminent critic has said, belong to the nursery
apparatus of composition.” Of value, for Brown, is the claim that Schubert employs more than simple techniques of
variation. Maurice J. E. Brown, “Schubert, Franz,” Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 5th ed., vol. 7, ed. Eric Blom
(London: MacMillan, 1953), 562. Brian Newbould demonstrates the falsehood of Brown’s claim (as do my analyses). See
Brian Newbould, “Composing With the ‘Nursery Apparatus’: Thoughts Prompted by Two Lesser-Known Schubert
Piano Works,” in The Unknown Schubert, ed. Barbara M. Reul and Lorraine Byrne Bodley (Burlington: Ashgate, 2008).
39
development associated with sonata forms. As a genre seen in opposition to sonata form the
ornamental variation suffered, as did the reputation of variation techniques.15
Second, the commodification of ornamental variations separated them from “art music” in
the minds of critics. As one of the genres associated with Hausmusik repertoire, the content of
theme-and-variation sets, tailored to meet the demands of a growing consumer class, was especially
problematic. Critics lamented such catering to popular tastes. They disapproved of the incorporation
of virtuosic elements performable by amateur musicians into theme-and-variation pieces, and
derided concertgoers who enjoyed such displays of virtuosity, for the exhibition of technique was
considered empty and devoid of meaning. And the aesthetic privileging of inventing over finding
musical material meant that pieces based on borrowed tunes lacked the necessary creative spark.16
Yet the use of well-known tunes in theme-and-variation sets was incredibly common, granting
members of the middle classes access to public genres in the privacy of their own home.17
Ultimately, music produced for consumption was considered pedestrian. As Jérôme-Joseph
de Momigny wrote in his entry on Variation in the Encyclopédie méthodique: musique, variations contain
“much speech but little sense.”18 He continues, lamenting the rise in production of variations and
fantasies for the marketplace: “since we no longer make sonatas, we replaced them with fantasy and
variations … such trifles corrupt taste.”19 Complaints of this ilk were commonplace in historically
contemporaneous publications. As one contributor to The Monthly Magazine of Music wrote:
Augmenting in number every day, not a theme is suffered to escape which offers the
slightest appearance of a melody … not an air from “God Save the King” down to the newest
French quadrille can now aspire to be unvaried … From what has this furor mutandi arisen?
… People find it much easier to produce variations than compose a sonata, and their efforts
15 Roman Ivanovitch further unpacks, and attempts to deconstruct, the formal binary in his Ph. D. thesis “Mozart and
the Environment of Variation,” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2004). See also Esther Cavett-Dunsby, “Mozart’s ‘Haydn’
Quartets: Composing Up and Down Without Rules,” Journal of the Royal Musical Association 113, no. 1 (1988): 57–80;
Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation; and Scott Burnham Beethoven Hero (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995).
16 We find descriptions from nineteenth-century critics of pieces that displayed technical prowess as “cartloads of
rubbish.” What is more, a published laundry list of composers creating such “rubbish” betrays the negative attitudes
towards composing music for mass composition. Quotes from “Messrs. Herz, Pixis, Chaulieu, Czerny, Hünten, and
others of the gang.” The Musical World, 15 July 1836, printed in Jim Samson, Virtuosity and the Musical Work: The
Transcendental Studies of Liszt (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 73.
17 According to Sisman, the majority of André’s publications after 1787 were “based on vocal models, mostly operatic
tunes but also folk songs.” Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation, 77. Indeed, between 1790 and 1830, “hundreds of
editions of [theme-and-variation sets] by [Abbé Joseph] Gelinek” were published, and were successful because he used
“opera themes in fashion” that were “always clear, simple and recognizable” as well as for their “virtuosic, almost
theatrical” finales. My translation of Livia Laifrova, “Nicodami et les Musiciens de Bohême à Paris au Temps d’Antoine
Reicha” in Antoine Reicha: Compositeur et théoricien, ed. Louise Bernard de Raymond, Jean-Pierre Bartoli and Herbert
Schneider (Hildesheim: Olms, 2015), 78–80.
18 Jérôme-Joseph -Joseph de Momigny, Encyclopédie méthodique: musique, II (Paris: Panckoucke, 1818), s.v. “Variations.”
19 Ibid.
40
are highly acceptable to such amateurs as desire to be showy, without much expense of either
time or trouble.20
Similar critiques of four-hand piano music (another instrumental genre associated with the
production of consumer-driven music, and for which many variation sets were written) were
repeatedly published in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung.21 Taken together, these criticisms reflect a
growing tension between music as art and music as commodity.22
The commodity status of ornamental variations thus played a dual role: while
commodification alienated a small band of connoisseurs, the genre was popular among amateur
musicians of the growing middle classes (for whom this repertoire was integral to their musical-
social lives), and lucrative to publishing houses. Despite their decreased aesthetic value as art music,
through the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries the value of theme-and-variation sets as
commodities increased among the Viennese bourgeoisie—a class with which Schubert self-
identified.23 Evidence supporting the popularity of theme-and-variation sets dates back to the late-
eighteenth century and continues through the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Through the
1780s and 1790s publication rates steadily increased, reflecting their burgeoning status as a
commodity: Artaria, the most successful publishing house in Vienna at the time, published twenty-
one sets in the 1780s and sixty-six in the 1790s.24 The records of three other Viennese publishing
houses reveal the trend of increased publication rates continuing from 1800 to 1825: 408 theme-and-
variation sets were published between Artaria and Co. (with Tranquillo Mollo), Mechetti, and Joseph
Eder and Co.25 These numbers suggest that, at the turn of the century and beyond, publishing
houses in Vienna were meeting an increased demand for theme-and-variation compositions.
20 The Monthly Magazine of Music, 1 (1823), quoted in Arthur Loesser, Men, Women, and Pianos: A Social History (New York:
Simon and Schuster, 1954), 290.

21 Adrian Daub cites an issue of the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung from November 1841 in which the editor rails against
“bravura pieces” (like four-hand piano transcriptions), and situates consumers as “accomplished dilettantes.” As Daub
puts it, “for [the editor of the AmZ], the consumers of four-hand music were dupes.” Daub, Four-Handed Monsters: Four-
Hand Piano Playing and Nineteenth-Century Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 69.
22 As Alice M. Hanson notes, technological innovations resulting in the mass production of musical products (e.g., the
publication of musical scores and manufacturing of pianos) fostered the commodification of music. Hanson, Musical Life
in Biedermeier Vienna (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 7. Critics were obviously uncomfortable with the
mass production of pieces that made music accessible; from four-hand piano transcriptions making symphonic works
playable at the piano, to the “superficial” techniques of variation used to ornament popular tunes.
23 With regards to Schubert and Biedermeier Vienna, see, for example, Hanson, Musical Life and Ruth Solie, Music in Other
Words: Victorian Conversations (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2004).
24 This data comes from Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation, 77. According to Sisman, another publishing house,
André, “published hardly any variations during the 1770s, [but] increased the number during the 1780s and especially
after 1787.” Ibid.
25 Artaria and Co. (with Tranquillo Mollo) published 207; Mechetti published 118 (these records begin in 1810); and
Joseph Eder and Co. published 83. These numbers come from Alexander Weinmann’s study of publishing firms in
Vienna. For more, see Alexander Weinmann’s series Beiträge zur Geschichte des Alt-Wiener Musikverlages, Reihe 2, Folge 2 for
Artaria and Company; Reihe 2, Folge 10 for Mechetti; Reihe 2, Folge 12 for Joseph Eder and Co.
41
With the influx of music meant for consumption into the marketplace came the urge to
distinguish between composers of popular versus art musics. Processes of canonization have
historically favored those who experienced success in the realm of art music, while popular, or
domestic musics have received a disproportionately low amount of scholarly attention given their
prominence in contemporaneous cultural life. As a result many of Schubert’s compositions have
remained in the margins. Yet Schubert earned a prominent reputation (and a living) as a composer
of domestic music during his lifetime, especially in the last seven years of his life.26 In fact, it is
specifically because of his numerous compositions suited for Hausmusik that he became “one of the
most widely performed and published composers of Vienna during the 1820s.”27 Of Schubert’s
compositions in domestic genres, his Lieder have garnered the most critical and analytical attention;
however, he was also prolific in the flourishing genres of domestic piano music.28 Indeed, given the
centrality of the piano in Schubert’s musical sphere (especially post-1820) it comes as little surprise
that the majority of Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets incorporate the piano in some way: of
seventeen published sets, six are written for solo piano, five for piano duet, and three for chamber
music including piano.29
Variation Form in the Literature: Modern-day Scholarship

Examining twentieth- and twenty-first-century scholarship of form reveals an inheritance of the
critical tradition, which privileged sonata form over more popular musical forms such as ornamental
variations. In contemporary scholarship ornamental variation sets are rarely analyzed. This is due, in
26 While the reception history of Schubert’s life and career has clouded our ability to appreciate his many contributions
garnering respect during his lifetime, Schubert made a name for himself in Viennese musical-social life: “in just seven
years the quantity of publications is most impressive for a young composer … The list of the composer’s compositions
published during his lifetime points concretely to the paradox of Schubert’s coexisting fame and neglect: although
Schubert was widely performed and published, recognition came only in certain areas.” What is more, he managed to
make a living: “publications, performances, dedications, teaching, and occasional patronage yielded a respectable level of
income.” Christopher H. Gibbs, “‘Poor Schubert’: Images and Legends of the Composer,” in The Cambridge Companion to
Schubert, ed. Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 48.
27 Christopher Gibbs, “‘Poor Schubert,’” 47.
28 It is worth noting that in the formation of a bourgeoisie musical practice in the nineteenth century, the piano played a
crucial role. This was due, in large part, to innovations in mass production; pianos became affordable. Indeed, it is the
instrument for which most of Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets were composed. This is not to discount the role of
chamber music in nineteenth-century Hausmusik practice, or in Schubert’s oeuvre. Chamber ensembles were a more
common form of masculine social music making (as evidenced by Schubert’s social music making pre-1820 with male
family members and friends), while the piano was more often gendered as feminine. The gendering of musical spheres is
reflected in many commentaries on Schubert; because of his engagement with such “feminine” musics, he was often cast
as such. For more on the role of the piano in middle class musical life, see Thomas Christensen, “Four-Hand Piano
Transcription and Geographies of Nineteenth-Century Musical Reception,” Journal of the American Musicological Society Vol.
52, no. 2 (1999) and Adrian Daub, Four-Handed Monsters. For more on male sociability via chamber music, see Marie
Sumner Lott, The Social Worlds of Nineteenth-Century Chamber Music: Composers, Consumers, Communities (Urbana, Chicago, and
Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2015). For more on Schubert and discourses of femininity, see Scott Messing,
Schubert and the European Imagination, 2 vols. (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2006).
29 See Table 1 for a detailed representation of Schubert’s published theme-and-variation sets, including Deutsch number,
year of composition, title, and instrumentation.

42
part, to limitations of analytical methods (what Anne Hyland deems a “two-fold methodological
problem”). 30 That is, the paratactic nature of variation form—a seemingly arbitrary, additive
structure comprising repetitions of tonally closed thematic units—makes it difficult to account for,
and analytically represent, the overall structure of a variation set. Rather, variation form lends itself
to analyses of relationships between the theme and its variations.31 Compounding issues of method,
the resurgence of Formenlehre scholarship in the 1990s further focused the attention of analysts on
sonata forms.32 Ultimately, variation form remains underrepresented in the literature, and many
studies of the genre, as well as Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets, tend to belittle both ornamental
variations and the compositional techniques associated with it.
In a comprehensive examination of the formal genre, Robert Nelson considered the
evolution of variation form from ca. 1500 to 1920.33 Nelson adopts a formalist lens in writing a
history of the genre, distilling nearly 500 years of practice into seven types of variation sets. He then
groups the seven types into four overarching plans: (1) cantus firmus, (2) melodic-harmonic, (3)
harmonic, and (4) free. 34 Of Nelson’s plans, the melodic-harmonic type, and its subtype, the
Classical ornamental variation, is of particular relevance to Schubert’s variation idiom.35 Nelson
defines the Classical ornamental variation as one that simultaneously retains “the melodic subject
and the theme harmony.” The melodic subject remains in the upper voice, “where it undergoes
incidental alteration, generally by means of figuration,” while the theme’s harmony “is subjected to
frequent modifications of detail, even though its main outlines are preserved.” 36 The Classical
ornamental variation is thus distinguished from the more general melodic-harmonic plan by its
potential for greater harmonic change. Specifically, this subtype allows for minore variations: “The
scheme of progressive rhythmic animation found in the baroque pieces still persists, but is modified
to include certain type contrasts. The first of these is afforded by a variation in the opposite mode
30 Anne M. Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology? Towards an Understanding of Repetition in Franz Schubert’s
Instrumental Chamber Music,” PhD diss. (King’s College, University of Cambridge, 2010), 214.
31 As Hyland notes, variation form is especially problematic from a Schenkerian perspective because it troubles the
notion of a single Ursatz: “if the theme or any single variation may stand for a complete, tonally closed entity, does a
variation movement possess multiple Fundamental Structures, rather than one governing Ursatz?” Ibid., 215
32 The publication of three new Formenlehre texts were especially impactful: William Caplin’s Classical Form: A Theory of
Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998) and
James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-eighteenth-Century
Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006). These treatises advanced new analytical methods, while Musical Form,
Forms, and Formenlehre: Three Methodological Reflections, ed. Pieter Bergé (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2010) continued
the dialogue between theories of form well into the twenty-first century.
33 Robert U. Nelson, The Technique of Variation: A Study of the Instrumental Variation from Antonio de Cabezón to Max Reger
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1948).

34 Nelson, The Technique of Variation, 27.
35 This variation type is named for its frequent use by Viennese, Classical composers in their theme-and-variation sets.
Nelson, The Technique of Variation, 27.

36 Nelson, The Technique of Variation, 16–18.
43
… [which] emphasizes harmonic subtleties rather than rhythmic movement.”37 Schubert and his
contemporaries frequently employ modal shifts in variation sets. What is more, Schubert explored
the use of harmonic variation beyond the parallel mode.38 Despite such innovations, Schubert’s
name appears only once in Nelson’s chapter on Classical variations—as an aside.39
Through the course of the chapter, Nelson’s opinion of the Classical ornamental variation
becomes clear: it was, for him, a low-point in the history of variation form between the Goldberg
and Eroica variations.40 For Nelson, ornamental variations pale in comparison to previous styles
because they employ “[a] stereotyped plan and simple texture.”41 And in comparison to subsequent
variation forms, ornamental variations are faulted for their “lack of sharp contrasts … in spite of the
trend toward a more vigorous and dramatic idiom in the early nineteenth century.” 42 Nelson’s
negativity towards the genre is not uncommon, especially at the time his monograph was published
(in 1948).
Similar sentiments towards ornamental variations are reflected in the sole study dedicated to
Schubert’s variation sets, Maurice Brown’s Schubert’s Variations. 43 Brown takes sixteen works in
variation form and divides them into four categories based on their chronology: Experimental Years
(1815–1818); The Song Variations (1819–1824); Maturity (1824–1826); and Decline (1827). 44 A
typical discussion includes a (brief) recounting of the historical background of a work followed by a
general, descriptive analysis of the theme and the variation techniques used in subsequent variations.
Some observations cast Schubert in a favorable light—for example, the exploration of keys in
variation sets is lauded as innovative. However, such praise is counterbalanced by a substantial
amount of criticism. For example, in one of many asides, Brown notes that Schubert lacks a
37 Ibid., 81.
38 I will return to this point later, as reharmonization in unconventional ways (with respect to the classical ornamental
variation) plays a large role in both Schubert’s variation sets and sonata forms.
39 Nelson notes “reharmonization is used now and again by Schubert.” Nelson, Techniques of Variation, 84.
40 This sentiment similarly permeates Nelson’s first chapter, where he initially details the melodic-harmonic plan.
41 Nelson, The Technique of Variation, 80.
42 Ibid. In Nelson’s concluding remarks for the chapter he further denigrates the genre, claiming that “the ornamental
variation has suffered both by comparison with the more complex types of the baroque and romantic periods, and by
reason of its occasional superficiality” before going on to further denigrate the form: “its technical procedures are
undeniably restrictive, and its elaboration of the theme lacking in surprises. Because of its simple plan it is most at home
within a larger work, where its homogeneity is an asset rather than a drawback … [however] in the realm of multi-
movement works, especially those of chamber music, the better ornamental variations occupy a position both of dignity
and interest.” Ibid., 88–89.
43 Maurice J. E. Brown, Schubert’s Variations (London: MacMillan, 1954).
44 James Webster critiques this kind of “evolutionist historiography” in his monograph Haydn’s Farewell Symphony and the
Idea of the Classical Style: Through-Composition and the Cyclic Integration in his Instrumental Music (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 1991). In the case of Haydn, organicist or evolutionary narratives conflating personal growth with the
development of the Classical style result in false dichotomies between periods. Subsequent ill-informed value judgments
regarding the composer’s maturity considered pieces composed pre-1780 immature (the crux, as it were, for many
Haydn scholars). In his approach, Brown is similar to Nelson. They both approach their object of study historically,
parsed into smaller groups of like things, and generate “evolutionist historiographies” of their subject matter.
44
formidable set to match the likes of Bach’s (Goldberg) or Beethoven’s (Diabelli) variations.45 This
monograph demonstrates the negative perception of ornamental variations, which overshadows any
analytical details of Schubert’s variation sets provided.46
Appearing nearly half a century later, Elaine Sisman’s influential monograph, Haydn and the
Classical Variation, breaks from traditional work on variation form in an attempt to redress scholarly
biases against ornamental variations. 47 Sisman focuses on one variation type—the Classical
ornamental variation—and considers factors outside the purely music-analytical domain in her study
of variation form in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Specifically, Sisman is
interested in their loss of aesthetic value (i.e., critical acclaim), which she explains through the
juxtaposition of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century aesthetic frameworks. Sisman argues Classical
variations had value as art music because of the ubiquitous influence of rhetoric on eighteenth-
century thought; variations were often compared to oration, the verbal rhetorical form. 48 She
identifies the rise of organicist aesthetics in the early nineteenth century as a pivotal moment in the
decline of variation form.49 Sisman’s argument hinges on the treatment of repetitions (varied or
developmental), and how such repetitions are perceived within a rhetorical vs. organicist framework.
Within a rhetorical aesthetic framework, unity amid variety was privileged, and thus the treatment of
repetition in variation sets (i.e., variation techniques) held artistic value. Moreover, both variation
techniques and developmental modes of repetition fit within a rhetorically minded aesthetic
framework. However, from the organicist perspective thematic development is crucial to formal
coherence. As such, variation techniques were considered “artificial … incapable of [sustaining an]
45 This remark strikingly resembles Nelson’s understanding of the Classical Ornamental Variation, for whom the entire
genre appears as a lacuna between two formidable variation sets by Bach and Beethoven.
46 Brown continues to reinforce the binary between the compositional styles of Schubert and Beethoven within the
genre, couched in terms of “subjective” and “objective” variations, and privileges those with sonata qualities, especially
those by Beethoven. Jeffrey Perry astutely notes that Brown’s recourse to the “persistent use of Beethoven as a fixed
point of reference and standard of value” limits the value of his monograph. Jeffrey Perry, “The Wanderer’s Many
Returns: Schubert’s Variations Reconsidered,” Journal of Musicology 19, no. 2 (Spring 2002), 376.
47 Some may consider her approach generous in relation to other scholarly work on variation form; I feel it approaches
variation form fairly. In admitting our inherent (and inherited) biases against the genre, and probing the contexts in
which they were shaped and passed on, Sisman is able to properly situate the form aesthetically, something typically
overlooked by previous theorists.
48 Mark Evan Bonds also addresses the influence of rhetoric on eighteenth-century musical thought. In his monograph,
Bonds draws parallels between rhetoric and music to theorize conceptualizations of musical form in the eighteenth
century. For Bonds, the decline of the rhetorical model in the nineteenth century gave rise to theoretical distinctions
between inner and outer form in music. Sisman’s study of rhetoric is more relevant to the current study, especially given
her focus on parallelisms between rhetoric and variation form (and their shared aesthetic underpinnings). Mark Evan
Bonds, Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991).
49 Ibid., 19. Many treatises were published in the seventeenth and early-eighteenth centuries in which parts of musical
structure were equated with those of an oration, and parallel the compositional processes of these respective media. For
more on this, see Brian Vickers, In Defense of Rhetoric (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988).
45
organic structure” because they comprise “a repetitive series of short, discrete segments with the
same structure” and thus fell out of favor.50
Sisman borrows concepts from studies of rhetoric in the eighteenth century, and applies
them to her analysis of the variation sets of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Generic conventions
identified through her analyses are framed as a “rhetoric” for Classical variations. She then addresses
non-Classical ornamental variations, those that depart from Classical variation rhetoric while
retaining the traditional plan. Through the analysis of Beethoven’s variations Sisman identifies new
techniques (e.g., premature thematic defamiliarization, metric ambiguity, and altering the “nature” of
themes) that serve to establish a “new decorum” within variation form.51 These analyses institute a
dialogue between tradition and practice that is equally applicable to Schubert’s variation sets;
instances in which Schubert breaks from tradition, establishing his own idiomatic variation practice
(or “decorum”) will be addressed in the next section. Ultimately, Sisman’s acknowledgement of the
sonata’s lasting effect on historical and contemporary discourse (referred to as “sonata hegemony”
or the “sonata aesthetic”), and her argument regarding the influence of rhetoric on eighteenth-
century aesthetics, help reframe our modern-day understanding of variation form.
Just as Sisman’s work distances itself from prior studies of variation form, Jeffrey Perry
provides an updated, in-depth analytical account of select variation sets.52 Indeed, it is one of a
limited number of recent scholarly publications to treat Schubert’s variations as the focal point of
analysis. Perry selects four theme-and-variation sets for analysis, all of which share the following
characteristics: a theme in the major mode; a variation in the parallel minor; and a variation in bVI,
“followed by a retransition that prepares the final tonic-major variation.”53 Perry’s primary concern
is the treatment of bVI in these variation sets, for it is a tonal region “emblematic and ubiquitous in
Schubert.”54 Perry’s analyses interpret Schubert’s use of this key area in variation form through the
use of imagery and metaphors developed in studies of tonality in his sonata forms—e.g., distance,
regret, memory, and loss.55 For Perry, the use of bVI in variation sets reinforces an aspect of the
50 Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation, 1.

51 For Sisman’s analysis of Beethoven’s “new decorum” see Ibid., 241–62.
52 Perry, “Schubert’s Variations Reconsidered.”
53 Ibid., 380. Perry’s analytical corpus comprises the “Trout” Quintet (D. 667/iv), the fourth movement of the Octet (D.
803/iv), the second movement of the A Minor Piano Sonata (D. 845/ii), and the Impromptu in B-flat Major (D.
935/iii).
54 Ibid.
55 Perry, “Schubert’s Variations Reconsidered,” 416. While metaphors of distance, and evoking the concept of
wandering/the wanderer to understand Schubert’s harmonic move to the flat submediant can be useful within a diatonic
framework, I believe it is worth noting that this is but one interpretation, and therefore we should be cautious in drawing
parallels with the composer’s biography. The neo-Riemannian approach supports a reading of Schubert’s harmonic
idiom in opposite terms. In so doing, scholars have hoped to provide an alternative to the prevailing interpretation of
Schubert’s harmonic idiom as reifying his conceived status as an outsider.
46
composer’s harmonic language as especially idiomatic. Building on Perry’s work, my analyses of
Schubert’s variation sets similarly reveal a number of characteristic compositional strategies.
More recently, the role of variation in Schubert’s idiom has come to the fore as a fruitful
analytical lens in sonata forms. While I discuss this literature as it pertains to sonata form in
subsequent chapters, it bears further mention that some analysts also take works in theme-and-
variation form into consideration. For example, Susan Wollenberg’s 2011 monograph has an entire
chapter dedicated to “Schubert’s Variations.”56 While the focus of this chapter is variations in sonata
forms (e.g., D. 887/i), Wollenberg first considers variation sets based on a pre-existing Lied.57 Like
Perry, Wollenberg identifies certain elements in the construction of these variation sets as
characteristic; however, the techniques she identifies are somewhat vague. For example, she
considers “the way that an element in the texture is subject to intense scrutiny and developed
progressively” to be a characteristic technique. 58 In general, Wollenberg’s analyses are more
concerned with identifying motivic connections between movements in a given chamber work—
demonstrating how material in the variation movement “radiates outward into the other
movements”—and drawing connections between the original Lied and variation set. As such, she
establishes a new variation type, the “song-based cycle,” manifest in Schubert’s oeuvre.
Similar to Wollenberg, Anne Hyland analyses Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets within the
context of a larger study on his sonata forms.59 While her work on interactions between variation
and sonata form has significantly advanced the notion of variation as an analytical lens, her
consideration of theme-and-variation sets is limited in scope.60 The primary goal of her dissertation
is to analyze (excessive, and varied) repetitions in Schubert’s sonata forms, for they stand at odds
with a form predicated upon thematic development. Hyland turns to the theme-and-variation sets in
order to “invert the perspective of the questions being asked by attending to a form which is itself
predicated on the repetition of contiguous closed musical units.”61 Through two analytical case
56 Susan Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints: Studies in the Instrumental Works (Burlington: Ashgate, 2011).
57 The variations considered are the Introduction and Variations on ‘Trockne Blumen’ for flute and piano (D. 802), and
the variation movements in the Wanderer Fantasy (D. 760/ii), the “Trout” Quintet (D. 667/iv), and the D Minor String
Quartet, “Death and the Maiden” (D. 810/ii). D. 802 is not treated analytically in depth; rather, it is contrasted with the
other three works for its poor critical reception (albeit it praised by performers and audiences). For example, Wollenberg
notes Martin Chusid’s comments on D. 802, as a “weak set” on a “fine song” in Martin Chusid, “Schubert’s Chamber
Music: Before and After Beethoven,” in The Cambridge Companion to Schubert, ed. Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2011), 180.
58 Ibid., 229. What is more, Wollenberg credits the identification of this “characteristic technique” to Anna Amalia
Abert’s “study of rhythm and sonority in Schubert’s instrumental music.” Ibid., 229. See also Anna Amalia Abert,
“Rhythmus und Klang in Schubert’s Streichquintett,” in Festschrift Karl Gustav Fellerer zum sechzigsten Geburtstag, ed. H.
Hüschen (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1962).
59 Specifically, see Chapter 5, “Variation Form: Repetition as Conditio Sine Qua Non” in Hyland, “Tautology or
Teleology.”
60 I discuss this work in greater detail in Chapters 3 and 4.
61 Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology,” 208.
47
studies, she demonstrates relationships between events that play out across small- and large-scale
units of musical form.62 Hyland’s primary concern lies at the “macro” level; she illustrates that in
Schubert’s variation sets, “repetition and seemingly arbitrary processes” can indeed support large-
scale formal structures. This, in turn, reinforces her argument that varied repetitions are capable of
sustaining large-scale structures in sonata form.63 In contrast, my analyses of theme-and-variation
sets remain on the “micro” level, for it is the variation techniques themselves that I privilege. In
establishing variation as idiomatic in Schubert’s oeuvre from a practical perspective, these techniques
connect his improvisatory and compositional practices, and in turn guide my analyses of sonata
forms.
Analysis: Variation Techniques in Variation Form

To construct a variation practice idiomatic to Schubert, connecting his improvisatory and
compositional idioms, I examine the treatment of thematic restatement in his compositions in
variation form. My analyses highlight compositional techniques employed to alter thematic
restatements: as repetitions of the theme (variations) as well as the repetition and return of thematic
material within individual variations. Before delving into variation techniques in greater detail, the
distinction between repetition and return as subtypes of thematic restatement merits further
discussion. I follow William Caplin’s distinction between the two: repetition denotes the “immediate
restatement of a unit” while return constitutes “a restatement of a unit following an intervening,
contrasting unit.”64 In variation form the theme (A) is subject to a series of varied repetitions: A, A1,
A2, etc. Thus, repetition pertains to the variation set as a whole (repetitions of the theme as
variations). Return is not typically associated with variation form; however, in Schubert’s sets it can
occur on the micro-, within the theme and individual variations, as well as the macro-level.65 I
consider techniques employed to alter both repetitions and returns of musical material.
62 Hyland analyses the Eight Variations on a French Air in E Minor (D. 624) and the second movement of the A Minor
Piano Sonata (D. 845/ii).

63 Ibid., 209.
64 Caplin, Analyzing Classical Form, 537.
65 The importance of repetition and return with regards to theme type will be considered in greater detail in conjunction
with my discussion of Schubert’s variation themes.

48
Table 2.1: Schubert’s Theme-and-Variation Sets
Deutsch No. (Year) Title
125/ii (1814–15)* Symphony No. 2 in B-flat Major
156 (1815) Ten Variations (solo piano)
576 (1817) Variations on a Theme by Huttenbrenner (solo piano)
603/968A (d.u.) Four Variations on an Original Theme (piano, four hands)
624 (1818)† Variations on a French Song in E minor (piano, four hands)
667/iv (1819)* Piano Quintet in A major “Die Forelle”
760/ii (1822)† Wanderer Fantasy (solo piano)
802 (1824) Variations on “Trockne Blumen” (flute and piano)
803/iv (1824)* Octet in F major
810/ii (1824)* String Quartet in D Minor “Der Tod und das Mädchen”
813 (1824)† Variations on an Original Theme in A-flat Major (piano, four
hands)
823/ii (1826–7)† Divertissement sur des motifs originaux français, originally
published as Andantino varié (piano, four hands)
845/ii (1825)† Piano Sonata in A minor (solo piano)
899/i (1827)† Impromptu in C minor (solo piano)
908 (1827)† Eight Variations on a Theme from Hérold’s Marie (piano, four
hands)
934/iii (1827)* Violin Fantasy
935/iii (1827) Impromptu in B-flat major (solo piano)
* = performed during Schubert’s lifetime (documented) † = published during Schubert’s lifetime
My corpus comprises Schubert’s seventeen published theme-and-variation sets (see Table

2.1). This includes both stand-alone sets and interior movements of larger-scale works in variation
form.66 During Schubert’s lifetime seven of the sets were published, and five unpublished sets were
performed. 67 Save the performance of D. 125 at the Vienna Stadtkonvikt in 1815, performances of
66 According to the Otto Erich Deutsch Thematic Catalog, three variation sets have been lost: D. 21 (1812), Six
variations in e flat for pianoforte; D. 24 (1812 or 1813), Seven (five) Variations in F major for Pianoforte; and D. 597A
(1817), Variations in A for Violin Solo. It is also worth noting that Schubert did not explicitly use variation form in
either first or finale movements, although interactions between variation and sonata-form first movements will be
considered in greater detail in chapter 3.
67 Sets published during Schubert’s lifetime: D. 624 (in 1822), D. 760 (1823), D. 813 (in 1825), D. 823/ii (in 1827), D.
845 (1825–26), D. 899 (1827), and D. 908 (in 1827). Sets for piano duet have the greatest proportional representation
49
Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets occurred in domestic musical settings.68 Schubert’s variations
fall under the purview of a single type: all seventeen sets are Classical ornamental variations. As
such, I interpret my analyses of Schubert’s variations against the backdrop of conventions
established in the latter half of the eighteenth century. In so doing, a tension is revealed between
Schubert’s use of the Classical variation (as a type) and his historical position, as well as his
individual style: because of Schubert’s chronological proximity to the High Classical Style, his use of
Classical forms and syntax are in constant dialogue with his interpretation of convention.
However, while Schubert often adopts and adapts traditions inherited from Classical
precedents, I derive norms specifically from his idiom in establishing a unique variation practice.
There are many characteristics unique to Schubert’s variations that I consider normative. For
example, if we consider thematic content, one expects to find a number of borrowed tunes used as
themes. In this regard Schubert presents an interesting case: only three pieces, D. 576, D. 624, and
D. 908, are borrowed from other composer’s works.69 While Schubert composed the majority of
musical material used in his theme-and-variation sets, he frequently self-borrowed. Six themes are
taken from his own vocal music: D. 667/iv, D. 760/ii, D. 802, D. 803/iv, D. 810/ii, and D. 934/iii.
Eight compositions use original thematic material: D. 125/ii, D. 156, D. 968A, D. 813, D. 823/ii, D.
845/ii, D. 899/i, and D. 935/iii. What is more, in using Lieder themes in variation sets within multi-
movement pieces for chamber ensemble, Schubert disregards conventions of instrumental genre.
Metric ambiguity is another means by which Schubert distances himself from more traditional
Classical variations: while ambiguity in Classical themes is rare, in Schubert’s idiom thematic
ambiguity reframes the relationship between the theme and subsequent variations such that the
primacy of the theme is destabilized.
Variation Themes70
A Classical understanding of variation form, as “a kind of musical rhetoric,” emphasizes the theme
as “the given meaning,” while the variations serve to present the theme in “different guises.”71 In
among those published during Schubert’s lifetime (6 of 7 sets). Sets performed: D. 125 (1815), D. 667/iv (1819), D. 803
(1824), D. 810/ii (1826), D. 934 (1828).
68 Otto Erich Deutsch and Donald R. Wakeling, Schubert: Thematic Catalogue of All His Works in Chronological Order (New
York: Dover Publications, 1995).

69 In particular, the composition and publication of Eight Variations on a Theme from Hérold’s Marie (D. 908) demonstrates
Schubert’s cognizance of the market towards which these compositions were directed: Hérold’s Marie premiered in
Vienna on December 18, 1826 and was a favorite among the Viennese public. Schubert produced D. 908 two months
after Marie’s Viennese debut. With regards to the borrowing of his own works, we find the technique of repurposed
material manifest on a large scale.
70 For analytical purposes, “theme” refers to a complex resulting from the synthesis of melody, accompaniment, and
harmonic progression. Variation techniques may be applied to any constituent thematic component or combination
thereof.
50
Schubert’s variation sets, the themes reveal a great deal about his practice. For example, Schubert
places the selection of a theme in dialogue with a broader conception of variation practice by picking
themes for his variation sets from within his own repertoire: taking the theme from a Lied and
turning it into a variation theme can be read as a form of presenting the theme in a “different guise”
(i.e., the theme is already a variation). While many generic conventions are retained in Schubert’s
variations, it is clear that he considered theme-and-variation form as more than a receptacle for
conventional content.
As is generally the case in variation form, Schubert’s themes do not modulate. Internally, we
find examples of modulating and non-modulating A sections (first reprises). 72 Typically this
modulation is to a subordinate key (the dominant or relative major, depending on the mode). Five
retain a traditional modulation in their first reprise: D. 156, D. 667/iv, and D. 845 modulate to the
dominant; D. 624 and D. 760/ii modulate to the relative major. One theme, D. 802, moves to the
parallel major.73 Two themes exhibit idiosyncratic modulations: D. 813 modulates to the major
mediant (III) and D. 823 modulates to the major flat-submediant (bVI).
Double-reprise form prevails in Schubert’s variation sets. Most of his themes are in small
ternary rather than small binary form—the latter being more common among Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven.74 Caplin suggests the lack of thematic return in small binary rendered it “especially
suitable for variation forms … the return of the basic idea can be reserved to mark the beginning of each
variation.”75 In contrast, both repetition and return are inherent to the small ternary theme type: the
former through repeating the A section, the latter in the reprise of A (labeled A′) that closes the
form. Thus, the return of thematic material built into small ternary form problematizes the large-
scale interthematic function of the A section as beginning—signifying the onset of a variation. That
is, in Schubert’s variations material in A′ is often modified in a way that could signify the onset of a
71 Georg Joseph Vogler, Verbesserung der Forkel’schen Veränderungen (Frankfurt am Main, 1793), 5.
72 This is a common practice, although there is a tendency for a composer to favor one strategy over the other.
According to Sisman, Haydn and his contemporaries tend to modulate in A sections, while Mozart is more of an outlier
(as the tendency in his themes is to not modulate). Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation, 198.
73 I do not consider the parallel modal shift a modulation.
74 I employ these terms as defined in Caplin, Classical Form, 71–97; small ternary form is also commonly referred to as
rounded binary. Twelve of seventeen theme-and-variation sets have a theme in (or in dialogue with) small ternary form:
D. 125/ii, D. 156, D. 667/iv, D. 803/iv, D. 810/ii, D. 813, D. 823, D. 845/ii, D. 908 (A’ over same tonic pedal), D.
934/iii (though just end rhyme), D. 935/iii and D. 968A. The other five vary in formal makeup. Three are in small binary
form (D. 576, D. 624, D. 899), while D. 760/ii is a period, and D. 802 retains the song form of the original Lied.
Schubert’s penchant for small-ternary thematic construction extends beyond variation themes—he similarly breaks from
tradition in sonata form with the frequent use of small ternary main themes. James Webster’s seminal study on
Schubert’s sonata forms identifies “many of the themes and theme-groups in Schubert” as “closed binary or A B A
designs.” “Schubert’s Sonata Form and Brahms’s First Maturity (I).” 19th-Century Music 2, no. 1 (1978): 18–35.
75 Caplin, Classical Form, 87. Emphasis mine.
51
variation. In so doing, Schubert retains a correlation between thematic restatement and variation
while destabilizing the form through a varied thematic return in the theme itself.
Further examining the treatment of thematic restatement in Schubert’s themes reveals a
process I term nesting variation. This process occurs when techniques typically reserved for
variations are applied intrathematically (within formal units).76 Schubert’s frequent use of theme
types with built-in restatements is conducive to processes of nesting variation, from large-scale
forms (small ternary) to eight-bar themes with internal repetitions (e.g., period forms). Example 2.1
illustrates such processes: the consequent phrase of the period (comprising the A section of a small
ternary) is varied through diminutions and embellishments.
Example 2.1: D. 968A, Theme (mm. 1–8)
A = period
{
antecedent consequent
A
bi ci bi (embellished) ci
b
& b 42 œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ™ #œ
œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™™
J
p > > > > > > >
™™
primo
b
dim.
& b 42 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœœ œœ #œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ
{
œ œœœœ œ
. œ. œ œ œ ˙ œ .
œ. œ. œ. œ
œ œœ œ. œ. œ. œ
? bb 42 œJ ‰ œJ ‰ œ ‰ J
œ
‰ J ™™
™™
secondo p dim.
? bb 42 œj ‰ j ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œj œ œ œœœ œ. œ
œ . . œ œ . œ. œ. . . œ
. œ. œ œ. . œ
. .
{
b
B Sx=: Fr ^ L kk^ L& K
. . œ. œ. œœ. œœ.
& b ™™
b œœ œœ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ >œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œPAC œ ™
™
œœ œ
9
LK:œ HC œ œ K: œ œ
> > >
bb ™™ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œ ™™ Schubert’s
. .
f pp f p
j‰ œ œ œ œ
{
& œœ œ œ œ œ œ œoperates
œ œ.onœ. a œ.larger
œ. œ. œ. scale:
The process. . œof varying formal . . restatements also
. œ. œ. . œ. œ.nestedœœœ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ
b ™
frequent ?useb ™of .
œ™ œ.small-ternary
œ™
œ &œ ™œ. œ. ™œ. .
. œ
form ? .
œ™ œ. œ™
affords J ‰
variation with œthe return of thematic ™™material as
. œ.
? bb ™™ œ. ™™
p 77
A′, a strategy employed with regularity in Schubert’sœ œ œ sets.
œ œ Example
œ 2.2, the theme from D. 845/ii,
p
j œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
™œ. . ™ œ. .
ff ff
œ. ™œ. œ. A′. ™
œ Œ Œ œ
œ. restatement‰ J ‰
exhibits a varied œ.
Here, the variedœ. œ. emphasizes œ
predominant œ
.
harmony œ. through the
tonicization of the supertonic, and the use of ii6 in the final cadential progression; notably, this
harmonic function is absent in both A and B sections.
76 This can occur on the large and small scale. For example, in sonata forms, a formal unit can comprise a series of
varied repeats of a theme or phrase, which I refer to as an embedded theme-and-variation set.

77 All sets in small ternary form contain varied reprises. The alterations include variations in contour, formal expansion,
and reharmonization, including instances of beginning off-tonic: D. 810/ii and D. 934 begin on VI, while D. 667/iv
begins with IV. D. 802, in song form, contains varied repeats.
52
Example 2.2: D. 845/ii, Theme (mm. 1–33)
{
Theme
Written-out repeat
.
(varied)
> .
.j > j > j . . . œj œ œj
A = period
j j j . . .
& 38 œœ œ œœ œœ ™œ œœ œ œœ™œ œœ œœ ™œ œ #œ
> œ™
. œ>œ œœ œœ œ œ œœ œ œ œ
œœ œ J œ œœ
œ œœ
œ œJ
œœœ œœ
œ
.
>œ .
. . .J
œ. >œ œ. œ œ œ
pp
.
piano
œ
?3 J
8 J œ œ œœ œœ J J œ œ. œ. œœ œœ
J œ. œ. œ. J œ
{
D=: K Lr ^ K K^ L& wyyyyq K L ^ K ^ KK^ Lw & K K Lr ^
L
. . . . > m
IAC
. .
™
> >
œj œ .j
PAC
™
œœ œ œ œ œ œj œ™ œ œ™œ œ j
œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œœœ œ œ
œ œ œ™œ œ œ œ #œ
10
œ j
B
& œœ œœ™ œ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œœ
œ J J J J J œœ
œ. œ. œ. œœ œœ. œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ. œœ. œœ ‰ ‰ œj œœ œ œœ
™™ ‰ œ™
œ œ œœ œ
? œ J J J œ J
J
{
K K^ L& wyyyyq K Lr ^ K ^ K^ &
Lw L& K L& {K} e
IAC L
PAC
.j j
œ œ œ nœœ œ ≈ . j
20 A′ (varied)
œœ œœ œ œ œ œj j
Varied repeat
& œ œ œ ≈ œ œœ œ œ œ œœ
œ
œ œ œ #œœ œ œ œ. nœœ œœ
J œ .
œœ b œ œ œ œ ≈
pp
.j >œ Ÿœ
cresc.
j œœ œ # œ
? œ #œ œ™ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œœb#œœ œœ
‰ œ™
J ≈ J
œ J œ
{
K lkkoe L^ Lwyyyq L& {K} ^ K lkkot L&
lkkor L K Lr ^
L L PAC
. .
HC ⇒ HC
. . .
™™
27
j œ. œ œœ. œœ j œ™
œœ œ œœ œ œ œ œœ # œœ œœ œ bœ œœ #œ œ œnœœ œœœ œœ
™
& œœ J œJ œ œ
. . fp
. .
>œ .
n œœ œœœ œ. >œœ œ œ œœ œœ
™™
œ œœ
? œ œ œ œ œœ J œ
J œ œ œ
J œ. œ. œ. J J
K K^ kk^ Lw & k lk^ lkko& L& K ^ kk^ Lw & K
kk
new harmony
IAC PAC
My final example of nested variation in themes (Example 2.3) comes from D. 823. It
involves both harmonic variation and re-purposed material, two particularly idiomatic techniques
that I discuss in greater detail later. Here, harmonic variation is achieved through melodic
reharmonization. Repurposing material is a process through which an earlier thematic idea takes on
a new form-functional role: in D. 823 the contrasting idea from the A section (mm. 2–4) returns in
the B section (mm. 10–12), but the melody is reharmonized and functionally re-purposed as part of
the contrasting middle. What is more, in the A section this passage comprises one function—
contrasting idea—while in the B section the material is split between the new idea and contrasting
53
idea, thus spanning two formal functions. The variation techniques employed in themes to nest
variation within a formal unit are also used to vary material throughout a variation set, thus blurring
boundaries between variations proper and the theme.
Example 2.3: D. 823/ii, Theme (mm. 1–4, 9–12)
{
A = period
antecedent
˙œ ™ œ œ ™ #œ œ ™ œ œ #œj
bi ci
# œ. œ œ #œ jm
& # ˙˙ œ. œ. œ. ˙˙ ˙˙
>
## p
primo fp
j
& œ. œ. œ œ ˙˙ ˙˙ œ œ œ
>˙ ˙ œ
{
. .
˙˙ ˙˙ ˙˙ œ œ œ œ
? ## >˙ œ. œ. œ. œ. J
p
œ
secondo fp
? ## ∑ Œ Œ Œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙
œ.
S-: kkOe k kkOe r Lwyyyyyq
HC
{
B
œœ™™ ™ j m
& # ™™ œœ nœœ #œ˙ œ œ ™ #œ œ ™ œ œ™
new idea ci
# œ œ œ ˙ j
œ œ #œ
9
J J
## ™ cresc.
& ™ œ œ
j f
j
œ™ œ œœ œœ #˙˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ
{
j
? ## ™™ œ nœ œ œ ™ œ œœ œœ #˙˙ œ™
˙ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ
J J
? ## ™™ Ó
f
˙ œ œ
cresc.
Œ ‰ œJ œ œ ˙ ˙˙ œ œ
J
S-: L LV% ; LK kkOe r Lwyyyq
HC
Another means through which the boundaries are blurred between the theme and its
variations is the presence of metric ambiguity in a theme. Although metric ambiguity is not a
variation technique, the effect of such ambiguity is similar to that of variation techniques when used
in a theme: the theme acquires functional attributes traditionally associated with variations.
Conventionally, themes are stable entities and the role of variations is to destabilize or defamiliarize
the theme. However, Schubert’s use of metric ambiguity in themes reverses these roles. In
Schubert’s variations such ambiguity is introduced when a pick-up can also be heard as a downbeat.
Example 2.4A–B illustrates the phenomenon of downbeat displacement in D. 813: Example 2.4A
54
reproduces the score; in 2.4B the music is re-barred to reflect downbeat displacement. It is possible
to hear both metric interpretations of the theme in D. 813, and subsequent variations highlight this
ambiguity by emphasizing one interpretive option or the other.
Example 2.4A and B: D. 813, Theme (mm. 1–4) As-Written and Re-Barred
(A)
(1) As written, with pick-up measure
{
A = period
™
bi ci
bb ˙
& b b c œ œ™ œ ˙ œfi
j
œ. ™ nœ œ ™ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ ™ nœ œ œ nœ œJ ‰
p
& b bbc œœ œœ ™™ œœ œ̇ œ bœœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœj ‰ œœ bœœ ™™ œœ ˙˙ ™

primo
b j ‰
œ œ œ œ œ
. .
{
. . œœ. .
? bb bc œ œ ˙ œ. bœ. .
œ. bœ œ. œ Œ œœœ
b ˙ œ. œ.
secondo p
? bb bc Œ
b œ. œ. ˙ œ. bœ. œ. bœ. œ. œ.
˙ œ. œ. œ.
Ax=: L& K
IAC
(B)
(2) With barlines shifted, showing implied downbeat
A = period
{
œ™ œ
bi ci 3
bb
&b b c œ œ™ œ ˙˙ œfi
j
œ. ™ nœ œ ™ œ œ œ ‰
J œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ ™ nœ nœ œ ‰
Ó J
œœ ™™ œœ œ̇ œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœj ‰ œ™ œ œ
j
primo p
b
& b bbc œœ œ bœœ
. . œœ bœœ ™™ œœ ˙˙ œ
œ ‰
{
. œ. œœ. .
œœœ
? b bc œ ˙ œ. bœ. .
œ. bœ œ. œ Œ
bb ˙ œ. œ.
secondo p
? b bc œ. Œ
b b œ. bœ. œ.
˙ œ. ˙ œ. bœ. œ. œ. œ.
œ.
Ax=: L& K
IAC
In sum, Schubert’s themes fulfill certain generic expectations of Classical ornamental

variations while incorporating new features that depart from Classical precedents. While the two-
reprise form is retained, small ternary is more common in Schubert’s idiom than small binary; varied
thematic returns appear before the variations begin; modulations occur in A sections, but only half of
the time; and, nested variation and metric ambiguity reframe not only the role of the theme, but also
its relationship to subsequent variations. Taken together, these aspects of thematic construction
distinguish Schubert’s variation sets from their Classical precursors; this conceptual separation is
55
equally important when considering Schubert’s sonata forms and their relation to Classical
conventions in subsequent chapters.
Variation(s)
I approach variations from a similar perspective as themes, placing them in dialogue with generic
norms in order to discern a Schubertian practice applicable on a broader analytical scale.
Summarized in Table 2.2 are the techniques of variation employed to alter thematic restatements in
all seventeen theme-and-variation sets. My data is organized into four categories (listed in the first
column), which correspond to organizational levels in a piece of music: Melodic, Accompanimental,
General, and Contextual.
The Melodic and Accompanimental categories contain techniques applied to individual
voices in a composition, and therefore comprise the lowest level. Two types of variation techniques
(applicable to both voices) predominate: rhythmic and registral. Of the two, rhythmic variants are
more common. When rhythmic variation is applied to a theme salient pitches are typically retained,
resulting in a decorated, or embellished, version of the melody and/or accompaniment. On rare
occasions we encounter an absence of familiar thematic material; however, this is mitigated by the
retention of the theme’s harmonic progression.
Techniques associated with the General level are applied to an entire unit of form (e.g.,
changes of meter or key). That is, they affect the entire theme complex. Varying thematic material
on this level implies a change that cannot be applied within a single voice (melody or
accompaniment). There exists one exception—block chord variations. While it is more common in
Schubert’s variation sets for the entire theme complex to be transformed into a block-chord
“reduction,” there are occasional variations in which this textural change is applied to the
accompaniment alone. Other techniques, such as part exchange, swap material between melody and
accompaniment parts. Variations that change key or meter are similarly general in that these
alterations affect the entire variation.78 The same can be said for imitation, in which case voices
function as leader and follower rather than melody and accompaniment.
78 Schubert refrains from significantly altering the harmonic progression of a passage unless there is a change of key.
56
Table 2.2: Variation Techniques by Organizational Level
Category Type Subtypes

retains scalar
diminution melodic arp./broken chords
Rhythmic (figuration) parallelism embellished
Melodic divergent/new tune
augmentation
Registral shift
figuration (same sub-types as in melodic

diminution type)
Rhythmic
Accompanimental
repetition
augmentation
Registral shift
Metric
third-related
key change
relative
Harmonic
theme
pitch
General repeated block chords (“chorale style”)
Rhythmic
homophonic
re-voiced material
part literal
Contrapuntal
exchange partial
imitation
Variation Pairs
Return of Theme at End
Finale Variation
Character Variation
Contextual Rhythmic Gradatio
Minore or maggiore
repurposed material
Cyclical Techniques
intra-variational reference
Nested variational procedures
Techniques in the Contextual category pertain to the highest level of organization, as they
describe relationships: those between variations in the context of the set as a whole, and those
between Schubert’s practice and Classical precedents. Within a set, these techniques affect
relationships between large-scale units of musical form (these large-scale units being the theme and
individual variations in a theme-and-variation set). While I discussed the use of nested variation
57
procedures in Schubert’s themes, nested variation occurs in variations as well. For example,
Schubert often inserts written-out repeats into variations, varies consequent phrases (in relation to
the antecedent), and varies thematic returns in A′ sections. Another common strategy affecting inter-
variational relationships is the use of variation pairs, or groups, within a set: adjacent variations can
be paired via attacca directions or by deferring cadential resolutions to the beginning of a new
variation, while multiple variations can be grouped via processes of rhythmic gradatio. To create
connections among non-adjacent variations in the set, cyclical techniques are employed, such as the
repurposing of material from previous variations.79
In regards to generic precedents, Schubert’s variations conform to Classical ornamental
variations through the use of variation types common among Classical sets. For example,
convention dictated that minore or maggiore variations must be included, while other types were
considered optional (e.g., character, or finale variations). 80 Schubert’s practice reflects these
expectations: minore variations appear in eight out of ten major-mode sets and all seven minor-mode
sets contain a maggiore variation. The optional types appear with less consistency; for example, seven
sets have a finale, or extended final variation, while ten do not. Of those that lack a finale, five close
with a return of the theme, and one includes both an extended final variation and a thematic reprise
at the end.
Of all the techniques employed by Schubert, four stand out for either the frequency of their
use, or for their uniqueness to Schubert’s idiom. The first two techniques have Classical precedents:
rhythmic variation and contrapuntal techniques. I highlight uses that both conform with and depart
from tradition. I then theorize two idiomatic techniques: harmonic variation and cyclical procedures.
In further elucidating these techniques as manifest in his variations, my examples demonstrate the
diverse means of implementing a given type of variation technique.
Rhythmic Variation
Rhythmic variation is one of the more common techniques of variation in both Schubert’s sets and
in Classical variations writ large. First, I consider decorative diminutions. These comprise rhythmic
alterations of the melody or accompaniment with added figuration or embellishments, such as turn
figures or passing tones, which retain thematic correspondence. I then illustrate rhythmic variations
79 For more on different possible derivation schemes in variations, see Edward Cone, “On Derivation: Syntax and
Rhetoric,” Music Analysis 6, no. 3 (1987). While Cone does not consider a cyclical derivation configuration applicable to
many of Schubert’s variations, I consider certain processes, like references among variations in a set, as illustrating a kind
of cyclical approach to composition.
80 Associated more often with Beethoven, Schubert rarely incorporates Character variations in his sets. For more on the
Character variation as a type introduced in A. B. Marx’s writings on Beethoven’s variations, see Sisman, Haydn and the
Classical Variation, 67.
58
on the general level, which incur a change in meter or texture (e.g., by reducing away the
characteristic rhythmic profile of a melody + accompaniment theme).81 Finally, through a gradual
process of increasing diminutions, rhythmic variation can be employed contextually as a grouping
device. This is a familiar gambit in Classical variations; I borrow Sisman’s term, gradatio, in my
analyses to identify such passages.
Diminution appears in all of Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets. The shortening of note
values in the melody or accompaniment creates temporal space for either additional tones of
figuration (ornamentation), or for repetitions of notes and/or chords (diminutions). Three examples
of diminution illustrate the technique applied in the melody, the accompaniment, and in conjunction
with other variation techniques. Example 2.5 compares the theme of D. 624 with the first variation:
diminutions are applied to the melody in variation 1; the accompaniment uses similar surface
rhythms as the theme. The retention of primary pitches makes the correspondence between theme
and variation audible. Example 2.6 compares the accompaniment in the theme with the first
variation in D. 576. The accompaniment is varied through diminution and added embellishments,
while the melody remains the same. My final example of diminution compares the theme and
variation 1 in D. 125/ii. Example 2.7 contains two variation techniques: rhythmic diminution in the
accompaniment, and revoiced material. An eighth-note Alberti style accompaniment (previously in
violin 2) sounds in violin 1, with a reduction to sixteenth-note durations in the Alberti pattern.
Extreme diminutions (e.g., sixty-fourth notes) are rare in Schubert’s sets, although they do occur in
genres associated with the display of technical prowess (e.g., the fantasy).82
Example 2.5: D. 624, Theme (mm. 1–3) and Variation 1 (mm. 17–20)
>™
Theme
# >
œ. ™ œ. œ.
& Cœ œ. œ. ˙ œ œ™ œ œ œ. œ œœ ˙
. œ. .
p
œœœ
#C œ œ œ#œ#œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
Variation 1
œ#œnœ œ œ œ œ œ#œ#œ œ œ œ ˙
& œ œ
3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3
3 3
p
81 Changes in meter are rather straightforward and not addressed in depth. D. 156, D. 576, D. 802, D. 813, D. 908, and
D. 968A have variations that change meter, usually from simple to compound subdivisions of the beat.
82 This includes the variations with Fantasy pieces, D. 760/ii and D. 934/iii, as well as the virtuosic variations for Flute
and Piano, D. 802. Such extreme diminution is more commonly associated with Beethoven’s sets.
59
? 42 œ œ œ #œ œ nœœ
Theme
#œ œ ˙
p
Variation 1
? 42
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
pp
staccato œ œ
Example 2.7: D. 125/ii, Theme (mm. 1–2) and Variation 1 (mm. 18–19)
° b 2 œ.
Theme
œ. œ œ œ œ œ. œ nœ œ
Violin I & b b4
b
Violin II & b b 42 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Bb2˙ œ
¢ b b4
Viola
œ
° b œ.
Variation 1
œ. œ œ œ œ œ. œ nœ œ
Oboe &b b
b
Violin I &b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
b
Violin II
¢& b b œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
General rhythmic variants can drastically alter the original rhythm in both voices, and are
often accompanied by a change in texture. Two types of such “holistic” rhythmic and textural
transformations appear in Schubert’s works. First are homophonic variants that forgo the distinction
between melody and accompaniment perceptible in the theme; rather, they comprise a series of
repeated block chords (see Ex. 2.8).83 The second type of large-scale transformation occurs when
homophonic themes are realized in a melody + accompaniment texture. Example 2.9, from D. 908,
demonstrates such a transformation.84
83 Other examples include D. 125/4; D. 576/3 and finale; D. 667/4, D. 845/5, and D. 908/6.
84 Other chorale style themes include D. 576, D. 624, D. 760, D. 810, D. 823, D. 845, and D. 908.
60
{
Theme
. .
& b 42 œj œ œ œ œœ œ™ œ #œ
œ
œ
œ œ œ œ
? 2‰ œ œ
b4 œ œ. œ. œ
{
> . . œœ. œœ. œœ.
œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. #>œœ œœœœ œœœœ. œœœœ. œœœœ. œœœœ. #œœœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ
Variation 2
Ÿ
b 2
& 4 œJ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ
œ
.œ œ. œ. R œ
f p f p p
.
f
? b 42 ‰ ≈ ≈ œ. œ. œ R ≈ ≈ œ
œ œ. œ. œ œ. œ. R ≈ ≈
œ . .
œ. œ. .
{
Theme
˙ œ œ ˙ ˙
&C ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙
primo p legato
& C ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙ ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙
{
Variation 1
œfij
œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ ‰ œfij ˙
&C œ œ œ ‰ œfi˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ
j
J
primo p
j
& C ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ œ œ
j ‰ ˙˙ œœ œœ # œœ œœ ‰ œ œ
j ‰
My final example of rhythmic variation demonstrates the contextual use of diminution,

rhythmic gradatio. In many Classical variation sets, a series of progressive diminutions in adjacent
variations (eighths become triplets, which become sixteenths, and so on) operates as a small-scale
grouping device. Example 2.10 illustrates this phenomenon in the right hand of the primo part in D.
968A, from the theme through the third variation. The role of the primo changes in the third
variation to that of accompaniment; regardless, the pattern of progressive diminutions continues.
While it is typical among Classical variations for the resulting subgroup to be interrupted by a slow-
tempo minore variation, that is not always the case in Schubert’s variations.
61
Example 2.10: D. 968A, Beginning Four Bars of Theme and Variations 1–3
b2 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ™ #œ œ
Theme &b 4 œ œœ œ œ
J
b2 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ™ #œ œ
Vartiation 1 &b 4 œ nœ
J
3 3 3
>™
b 2 œ œ nœ œ >œ™ œ bœ nœ œ œ >œ™ œ œ bœ œ >œ™ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ #œ œ n>œ œ
&b 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ J
Vartiation 2
>
“”
œœœœœ œ œ œ#œ œnœ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ œ œn œ œ œ œœœœœœœœœœœœ
b 2 œ œnœ œ œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ œb œ œ œ n œ #œ œ œ œ œ n œ J ‰ ≈® œ œœœœœœœ #œ
Variation 3 &b 4 J
6 6 6 6 6 6 3 6 6 6 6
6
Contrapuntal Techniques
Two contrapuntal techniques stand out in Schubert’s idiom: imitation and re-voicing material—a
technique in dialogue with the contrapuntal device of textural inversion. These techniques are
employed regularly in Classical variations; indeed, their use as variation techniques dates back to the
renaissance, appearing in compositions and treatises alike. 85 However, the adaptation of these
techniques in Schubert’s practice diminishes their power of historical allusion, and the resulting
aesthetic evocation of the learned style. This, in turn, distinguishes Schubert’s variations from
Classical precedents.
Half of Schubert’s variations employ imitation, albeit in a loose manner. When an imitative
relationship is established between two voices at the beginning of a variation, the relationship usually
weakens as the variation progresses. The “following” voice typically proceeds in one of two ways: by
either slightly altering earlier material, or diverging entirely from the original. As such, Schubert’s use
of imitative techniques invites the listener to focus on the texture produced through imitation.
Example 2.11, from D. 576, illustrates such loose imitation.86 The left hand leads with a subtle
thematic variant and the right hand follows at a distance of two measures. Shortly after the right
hand enters in m. 186 the imitation is interrupted: both voices converge on a half note in m. 187 to
close the antecedent phrase with a half cadence. The consequent phrase does not employ imitation;
rather, it is primarily homophonic in texture.. Despite the brevity of imitative content in this
example, the treatment of thematic material—the delayed right-hand entry, echoing material just
played by the left—clearly references the contrapuntal style.
85 These techniques are widely used in renaissance music. References to imitation (canon) and inversion as techniques of
variation can be found in sixteenth-century treatises on counterpoint as well as nineteenth-century composition manuals
(from Zarlino to Czerny).
86 Other examples of imitation can be found in D. 802/6; D. 803/5 and retransition; D. 813/6 and finale; D. 823/3; D.
908/3, 5, 6, and 8.
62
In Schubert’s variation sets, imitation is used not only to vary presentations of thematic
material, but also as a means of deriving “new” material. For example, it is frequently employed to
derive accompaniments. Like loose imitation between voices, imitative accompaniments similarly
evoke the contrapuntal style even though a strict contrapuntal variation never fully materializes.87
This is demonstrated in Example 2.12, taken from variation 2 in D. 802: the flute enters one bar
after the piano, giving the impression of an imitative variation. However, thematic imitation is never
realized. Instead, the flute provides an accompanimental echo of the melodic variant sounding in the
piano.
Example 2.11: D. 576, Variation 11 (mm. 184–91)
Variation 11
{
A = period
bi ci bi (varied) ci
œ œœ ˙ >œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ 1.œ
œ œœ ˙ œ œ œ #œ œ
& 42 ∑ ∑ œ œœ œ
œœ œ œ ‰˙ œ œ # œ n ˙œ œ
œ œœ #œœœ œœœ œœ œœ œœ
p
œ œ
? 42 œ œ #œœ #œœ œœ œ nœ ˙ #˙ œ œ œ
‰
A-: ii6 V V6 7 i
4
III: HC i: PAC

Variation 2
#2 œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ
& #4
{
Flute ∑ ∑ œ œ
œ™
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
# œ œ œ
œ œ œœœ #œœ
œ œ œ œ œ œœ
œ™
œ œ n#œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ nœœ œœ œœ
& # 42 œ œ œ œœ
œœ œ
nœ œ
? ## 2 œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ##œœ œœ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œœ œœ œ œ #œ œ #œ œ#œ#œ œ œ œ œ
Piano
œ œœ
f
4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œR œ œ#œ œœœ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ# œ œ# œ œ#œ#œ œ œ œ œRÔ œ œ œ œ œ
#œ œ Ô œ#œ œ
A unique treatment of imitation occurs in D. 813, in which the prominence of the technique
increases as the set progresses. That is, imitation occupies more and different formal locations in a
variation, and the number of voices involved increases. Imitation is relegated to the B section of the
theme; in variation 1 the A section takes on imitative elements (occurring between right and left
hands in the primo) while retaining imitation in the B section; in variation 2, the B section is
87 D. 667/2, D. 803/4, D. 810/3, and D. 908/2 similarly employ imitative accompaniments.

63
saturated with imitative entries—a third imitative voice is added in the melody, and the
accompaniment is now also treated imitatively; in variation 3 imitation returns in full force to the A
section, setting the primo’s melodic variant in imitation between right and left hands; in variation 4
imitation truly comes to the fore—because the secondo imitates the primo, imitation defines the
texture from the outset. Grouping variations in this way is reminiscent of the grouping effects
produced by rhythmic gradatio. Similarities between the treatment of imitation in D. 813 and
rhythmic gradatio extend further: variation 4 is followed by a minore variation, reigning in the
snowballing processes of imitation through a return to a melody + accompaniment texture, similar
to the role of minore variations in Classical sets that halt rhythmic gradatio.
Example 2.13: D. 576, Finale (mm. 266–81)
{
Finale
3 œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ
& 8 œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œJ œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œJ ‰
266
49
œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ # œ ™ œ œ œ œœ œœ ™™ œœ # œ œœ™™ œœ n œ œ ™ œ œ œ >œ
? 38 œ™ #œ œ œ™ #œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ J nœ #œ ™ œ œ œ
pp
#œ œ
{
J œ. œ.
™
œ ™ #œ œ œœ ™™ #œœ œœ #œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ™ œœ##œœ œœ ™™ nœœ œœ #œœ ™™ œœ œœ
& œœ ™™ #œœ œœ
274
œ ™ #œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œJ œ™ œ #œ œ ™ œ œ #œ ™ œ œ
57
œœ
œJ
? œ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œj œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œj
œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ
The second contrapuntal technique idiomatic among Schubert’s variations is that of re-
voicing (or re-voiced) material. I derived this term to describe the movement of thematic material
between voices; the technique itself produces a textural inversion although, like imitation, the
“inversion” is rarely strict.88 As a process, re-voicing material occurs when at least one voice, but
sometimes both, is/are retained and moved to another voice. In Schubert’s variations there are three
distinct strategies for re-voicing thematic material. These subtypes of revoicing are based on the
redistribution, or movement, of original thematic material (including both the melody and
88Intervallic inversion may be applied within a melody as a variant; a rising third in the theme may fall a third in a
variation, but this appears less frequently.
64
accompaniment) among or between instruments. Two apply on the level of theme: literal part
exchange and partial part exchange, while the third, part division, operates intrathematically in two- to
four-bar units.
Literal part exchange can also be understood as inversion: the melody and accompaniment
parts (including pitch content) are retained, but moved to different voices, (ex)changing the role(s)
played by each voice. This only occurs once in Schubert’s variations, in the finale of D. 576 (Ex.
2.13): the repetition of mm. 266–73 in mm. 274–81 exchanges material between left and right hands.
Partial part exchange is much more common. It requires two conditions: the melody must move to a
new voice, and the accompaniment—also in a new voice—must comprise new material. This
technique grounds the variations in D. 667/iv, as each variation places the theme in a new voice
(with as many variations as instrumental voices). Example 2.14 illustrates partial part exchange in
variation 4 of D. 624: the melody (originally in the primo) is given to the secondo, and a new scalar
accompaniment sounds in the primo. 89 Finally, part division describes the distribution of a single
melodic line over multiple voices. This technique differs from literal part exchange in that the
movement of the melody from one voice to another occurs within a phrase or theme, and is not
concerned with retaining the accompaniment in its original form. In solo piano works this technique
can approximate inversion, as shown in Example 2.15. Example 2.16, from the third variation of D.
803, shows this technique in a larger ensemble setting. Here, the melody is shared between horn and
clarinet/bassoon.90

Variation 4
{
Variation 4
œ œ œ nœnœ œ œœœœ
# œ #œ #œ œ Œ œ #œ œ œ Œ œœœ Œ œœœ Œ œœœœ
œ #œ œ œ œ. œ.
&cŒ Œ Œ
primo pp
# œ nœ nœ œ Œ œœœœŒ
& c # œ #œ œ Œ #œ œ œ œ
Œ
œœœœ
Œ œœœœŒ œœœœŒ
œ œ# œ œ œ œ. œ.
{
.
?#c œœœ œœ. ™™ œœ. œœ ˙˙ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ™™
œ™
œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ #˙
œ œJ ‰ œJ ‰ œJ ‰ œJ ‰ ˙ J ‰ J ‰ ˙
secondo pp
?#c j ‰
œ j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ Ó Ó œ ˙
œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
89 Other examples include D. 125/2; D. 156/5; D. 576/2, 5, 10, and 11; D. 624/4, 5, and 8; D. 802/theme and v.5; D.
813/2; D. 810/2 and 5; D. 908/1, 4, 6, and 7; D. 934/theme; D. 935/2 and 5.

90 Other examples include D. 125/2 and 5; D. 156/3; D. 624/1, 6, and 7; D. 802/4; D. 803/3; D. 813/6; D. 845/3; D.
908/8.
65
Example 2.15: D. 935/iii, Variation 4 (mm. 81–86)
{
D. 935/variation
Variation 4 4
-re-voiced (“inverted”) thematic material
& b b bb ™™C œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœ
81
bb œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
> > >œ œ ™ >œ œ >œ œ™ >œ œ̇ œ

? b b b ™™C œ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
bbb œ™ œ œ™
œ œ œ™ œ
{
“” >œ œ ™ >œ œ
b œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ™ >œ œ ™ œ >œ œ œ
œœ œ™ œ œ
œ œ œ ≈ ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œœ
84
b œ œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
b œ œ œ
& b b bb œ n œ nœœ œœ œ œ œ bœ
œ œ
œ ˙ œ œœœ œ œ œœœ œ œ œœœ œ œ œœœ œ
? b b b nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
bbb œ œ œ œ
Example 2.16: D. 803/iv, Variation 3 (mm. 58–60)
Variation 3
° 2 ‰ ™ œR œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œj™ ≈
3
Clarinet in C & 4 ≈ ∑ Œ
œ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
p 3
?2 ™‰ R œ™ ≈
Bassoon
¢ 4≈ ∑ Œ
3
J
3
p
& 42 œ œ ™ œ œ ™ œ œ™ œ
r T . >œ
Horn in C ∑ ∑
p
Harmonic Variation
I theorize harmonic variation as a technique distinguished from the standard minore or maggiore of a
Classical set.91 While these traditional variation types are a part of Schubert’s practice, he routinely
expands the web of harmonic relationships to include variations in more distantly related keys—a
practice not common among Classical variations. Moreover, harmonic variation is stylistically
important in Schubert’s oeuvre, for it transcends generic boundaries. Consider, for example,
Schubert’s use of bVI as both a common key for off-tonic variations and tonal center in sonata
forms. My analyses highlight techniques of harmonic variation employed on multiple hierarchical
91 We have already seen harmonic variation employed to vary restatement in a theme (D. 810/ii).
66
levels: accompaniments can be varied so as to reharmonize melodic pitches, on the general level it
effects a change of key, and contextually tonal plans create relationships between adjacent variations.
In further elucidating Schubert’s use of harmonic variation, I begin with examples of general
harmonic variants: variations in non-tonic keys, of which there are twelve.92 Four variations are
entirely in a new key. Variations 3 and 6 of D. 624 illustrate this. The variation set is in E-minor,
with the third variation in C major (VI) and the sixth variation in C# minor (#vi). The modulatory
trajectory of the A section of the theme (from i to III) is retained in both variations, regardless of
the change in mode. The fifth variation of D. 908 also begins and ends in a new key, bVI—A-flat
major in a C-major set. Beginning in a new key and ending in the home key happens once, in D. 576:
the sixth variation begins in F# minor (#vi).93 The preceding variation (5) is in the parallel major (A
major), thus contextualizing the raised sixth scale degree.
Table 2.3: Harmonic Plans in Off-Tonic Variations

Deutsch No.
Beginning Key Ending Key
(variation/key)
D. 125/ii (4/vi)
New Key New Key D. 624 (3/VI; 6/#vi)
D. 908 (5/bVI)
New Key Home Key* D. 576 (6/#vi)
D. 667/iv (5/bVI)
D. 803/iv (6/bVI)
D. 813 (7/vi)
New Key Home Key (Dominant)
D. 845/ii (4/bVI)
D. 908 (7/vi)
D. 935/iii (4/bVI)
Home Key New Key (Dominant) D. 908 (6/vi)
* Begins in F# minor, ends in tonic major though the set is in A minor.
92 If I included minore or maggiore variants, there are twenty-seven.

93 A similar procedure occurs in D. 125/4, in C-minor (vi), but the return to tonic occurs at the end of the A section
rather than at the end of the variation. The A section closes in the home key (E-flat major), followed by a sequential
contrasting middle leading again to a I: PAC. In spite of the efforts made to regain the home key, the reprise ends with a
vi: PAC.
67
Options for structuring off-tonic variations include beginning in a new key and ending in the
home key; beginning in the home key and ending on the dominant of a new key (setting up the
subsequent variation); and beginning in a distant key and ending on the dominant of the home key.
Table 2.3 summarizes the different harmonic trajectories of off-tonic variations. Of these three
strategies the last is the most common, and surrounding variations often harmonically contextualize
off-tonic variations. One realization of this plan is found in both D. 803/iv variation 6 and D.
935/iii variation 4, variations in bVI within a major-mode set. These off-tonic variations are
preceded by a variation in the tonic minor, introducing the lowered sixth scale degree. In both
examples, after the variation proper ends in bVI, an appended retransition—stepping outside of
“variation” space—leads to a fermata on the dominant of the home key, bridging the tonal gap
between bVI and the return of tonic. Another realization of this plan is found in D. 667/iv,
variation 5. The fifth variation in bVI is preceded by a variation in the tonic minor, and ends on a
dominant seventh chord of the home key. Unlike the sixth variation of D. 803/iv and the fourth
variation of D. 935/iii, this variation does not close with a bVI: PAC. Instead, retransition function
overwrites the underlying formal structure (small ternary): the contrasting middle becomes a
retransition leading back to a home-key dominant seventh chord, and A′ never appears.
Reharmonizing thematic material provides a unique means of recontextualizing thematic
material, taking something familiar (the theme) and placing it in a new (harmonic) context. Example
2.17 demonstrates thematic reharmonization: compare the theme in D. 908 with its harmonization
in variation 6.94 In Schubert’s variations it is more common for single pitches to be reharmonized,
thus altering the scale-degree function of a prominent pitch.95 This technique demonstrates the
malleability of a single pitch with regards to scale degree position, and takes advantage of the
contextual nature of scale-degree functionality by harmonically recontextualizing—i.e.,
reharmonizing—a single pitch.
94 The large-scale harmonic trajectory of D. 813/7 was discussed; however, the same passage is notable for the multiple
levels affected by harmonic variation. Thematic reharmonization occurs in spite of the general key change. Also, D.
802/5 uses reharmonization without changing key.
95 For a detailed discussion of reinterpreting a single diatonic common tone as an idiomatic harmonic practice in
Schubert’s music from a neo-Riemannian perspective, see David Kopp, Chromatic Transformations in Nineteenth-Century
Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
68
{
Theme
&C ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙
˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ™™
™™
primo p legato
&C ˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙ ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙ ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙ ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙˙
˙
{
> > > >˙ >˙ >˙ > >
? C Œ #œ ˙ Œ #œ ˙ Œ #œ ˙ Œ #œ Œ #œ Œ #œ Œ #œ ˙ Œ #œ ˙ ™™
™™
secondo p
?C w w w w w w w w
D=: K (ped) {kk} {L&} K
{
˙˙ ˙˙
Variation 6
n ˙˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ n˙ ˙˙
n˙˙ œœ œœ ˙ ˙˙
˙ ˙˙ œœ œœ b ˙˙ ˙ n ˙˙˙˙ œœœœ œœœœ ˙ ˙ ˙˙
˙
œœ œœ
œ œ
&C ∑ ˙ œ œ
n˙ ˙˙
ff fz fz fz
&C ∑ ˙
n˙˙
œœ œœ ˙˙
œ œ
˙˙ ˙ œ œ b ˙˙ ˙ n˙˙˙ œœ œœ
œ œ
˙
˙
˙
˙ ˙˙
˙
œœ œœ
œ œ
{
˙˙˙ œœœ œœœ ˙˙˙ ˙˙˙ b˙˙˙˙ œœœœ œœœœ
? C b#˙˙˙ œœœ œœœ n˙˙ ˙˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ṅ˙˙ ˙˙
˙ n˙˙˙ œœœ œœœ ˙˙˙ ˙˙
˙
˙ œ œ
ff fz fz
?C
fz
b˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ n˙ œ œ #˙ ˙ n˙ œ œ #˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙˙ ˙
b˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ n˙ œ œ #˙ ˙ n˙ œ œ #˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙
D=: Ger b ^ K lk Le/L kkoe Le/L L& K
PAC
The most concentrated example of pitch reharmonization occurs in the theme of D. 813, shown in
Example 2.18. Harmonic variation makes each appearance of C5, a point of rest in the melody,
unique: as ^3 in a I: IAC, ^1 in a iii: PAC, and as ^3 in the deceptive resolution to a III chord.
Reharmonized pitch repetitions present the same object, in this case C5, in a new way. The effect is
similar to thematic reharmonization, but the temporal immediacy of pitch reharmonization
foregrounds processes of harmonic recontextualization.96
96 For more on Schubert’s penchant for reharmonizing repeated pitches see Suzannah Clark, Analyzing Schubert, 270.
Nathan Martin and Steven Vande Moortele also mention pitch reharmonization in Schubert’s oeuvre. See Martin and
Vande Moortele, “Formal Functions and Retrospective Reinterpretation in the First Movement of Schubert’s String
Quintet,” Music Analysis 33, no. 2 (2014), 13.
69
Example 2.18: D. 813, Theme (mm. 1–2, 7–8, 21–22)
{
œ ™ œ nœ œ Ÿ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
& b bbc œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ ™nœ œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ nœ ˙
7 21
b ˙
J ˙ n˙
™ nœ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ n˙
j
primo p p
bb
& b b c œœ bœœ ™™ œœ ˙˙ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙
{
œ. œ. ˙ œ nœœ œœ œœ ˙˙ œ œ™ œ œ œœ œœ œœ œ ˙˙
? bb bc œ. bœ. œ . œœ
œ Œ œœ
b œ. .
œœ œœ ™™œœ œœ œ œ œ œ ˙
p
œ œ œ
secondo p
? bb bc Œ œœ
b
œ. bœ.
œ. œ ˙
œ. œ. œ. œ.
Ax=: K D-: k Ax=: KKK
Pitches reharmonized inter-variationally impart a sense of tonal continuity, and make

perceptible certain connections between variations. While previous examples discussed variations in
bVI contextualized by a preceding minore, in D. 803 pitch reharmonization is employed to further
emphasize this connection (see Ex. 2.19). One pitch, ^b3—introduced in the minore—acts as the
tonal transition between variations in different keys. Variation 5 introduces the flattened third scale
degree (E-flat), and ends with a i: PAC; variation six begins with an E-flat pick-up, sounding alone,
harmonized on the downbeat as ^5 in A-flat major.
Example 2.19: D. 803/iv, End of Variation 5 into 6 (mm. 104–5)
{
œ™
Variation 5 Variation 6
œ œ̇œ Vl 2
Cl œ ™™
b2 bbbb 42 œ™
œœ ™ Horn
2. Vl 1
& b b4
Vl 1 Cl
Vl 2 œ
™
Bssn
œ™
Vla
? bb 42 bbbb 42 œ œ œ œ
œ ™Vla/Cl
b &
Bass
± ±‹ ± ± ±‹ § ^ ^
D-: K ± 3 =>5 Ax=: K
±‹
Another example of pitch reharmonization mediating between variations in different keys

occurs between the third and fourth variations of D. 845/ii (Ex. 2.20). Variation 3 is in C minor, but
ends with a deceptive cadence (V-bVI). The fourth variation is in the key of bVI (A-flat Major in a C
Major set). The pitch C (^1) is first heard as the chordal third in a bVI triad on the downbeat of the
second ending (m. 104), but through the addition of a measure in the second ending (m. 105; all
70
other second endings are one bar long in this movement) C begins to function as ^3 in the key of
bVI. The reharmonization of C thus mediates tonal relationships between adjacent variations.
Example 2.20: D. 845/ii, Variations 3 and 4 (mm. 102–5)
Variation 3 Var. 4
{
! ! #
^ ^ ⇒ ^
>œ œ œ b œ œœ. œ ™™ œ. œ. œ.
œ & œ œ œ œ œ ™™ œœ™™ œœ ™™ œ. œ. œ.
œ œœ œ œ bœ œ œœ n œ j
1. 2.
b œ ?œ
& b b 38 œ œ
? nœœ œœœ
R & œœ ™™ bbbb
J
≈ œ ™™ ≈ ™ nœRÔ
r dolce
œœ
œ™ ≈ ‰
?b3 j
‰ bbbb
œ™ œ
b b8 j œ
œ ™ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ. œ.
œ œ™
D-: Lw & k LK LK K
PAC dec. cad
Cyclical Procedures
Many of Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets employ referential construction, which is imparted
through the use of cyclical procedures.97 Referential variations—those that recall previous variations,
or variation techniques—alter the flow of musical time and, as a result, the perceptual experience. In
this section I explore two strategies frequently employed in Schubert’s variations that look forward
to cyclical forms: repurposing musical material, and intra-variational reference. 98 The most
straightforward examples of repurposed materials are variation sets that end with a return of the
theme.99 Example 2.21 illustrates repurposed material occurring between variations in D. 935/iii: the
cadential melody, a turn figure, is taken up as melodic figuration in variation 2. Repurposing
permeates this variation set: although not shown here, the accompaniment of variation 2 returns in
variation 5, taking the listener “back” in musical time to variation 2.
97 By my use of the term cyclical, I do not mean to imply that a theme-and-variation set is necessarily a cycle, although it
could be framed as such. Rather, I mean to highlight the cyclical, or referential, nature of certain variation techniques.
For more on the rise of cyclic form as a Romantic phenomenon see Benedict Taylor’s Mendelssohn, Time and Memory: The
Romantic Conception of Cyclic Form (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011).
98 In discussing Schubert’s themes I defined repurposing material, and illustrated it within the theme of D. 823 as an
example of nested variation: the B section takes up the contrasting idea from the A section, changing the function of
familiar material. This also happens in D. 813/3.
99 They are: D. 124, D. 667/iv, D. 803/iv, D. 810/ii, D. 823/ii, D. 934/iii (intro), and D. 935/iii.
71
Example 2.21: D. 935/iii, Theme (mm. 3–4) and Variation 2 (mm. 37)
{
Theme
b . œ. œ. œ œ ≈ œ
3
&b C œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
œ
‰ œ œ
œ œ
j œœ ™
? bbC œj œœ œ œœ œ œ bœœ œ œ œ
j œ j nœ
œ
{
œ nœ
Variation 2
& b ™™ œ ≈™
37
b #œ œ œ œ œ j
œ œ œ
>
œœ œœ œœ œœ
? bb ™™ œj œ œ œ. œ œ
. J J J
• The accompaniment in Variation 2 is an outgrowth of syncopation introduced
in Variation 1, and returns in Variation 5.
Example 2.22 contains another example of repurposed material: compare the boxed Violoncello line
from the beginning of variation 2 with Violin 2 in mm. 1–2 of the theme (shown in Ex. 2.25). What
was first heard as an accompanimental inner voice in the theme functions as a melodic variant in
variation 2.
Example 2.22: D. 810/ii, Variation 2 (mm. 49–50)
Variation 2
° b ™
.
. . .
. œ. œ. ≈ œ. œ œ. ≈ œ. œ œ. ≈ œ. œ œ. . œ. . . œ . . œ. . . œ. .
™
49
Violin I & b C r œ ≈ œ œ ≈ œ œ ≈ œ œ ≈ œ œ
œ
b ™
Violin II & b ™C œ ™
œ™
œ
œ™ œ
œ
œ™
œ
œ™
œ
œ™ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ
b ™ j ‰ œ œ
Viola B b ™C œ
j œ œ j œ œ j ‰ œ œ
œ ‰ œ ‰ œ
œ
B bb ™™C ˙ œ œ œ œ
œ
¢
Violoncello
Violincello
Violoncello
*Compare with Violin

Inter-variational II, mm. 1–2. Chorale-style
references are similarinner voicerepurposing
to the repurposed as of material in that familiar material
melody in homophonic variation of theme
is recalled; however, references do not alter the formal function. For instance, variations on previous
variations blend cyclical elements with variation techniques. This process is shown in Example 2.23,
from D. 802: the particular rhythmic variant of the theme in variation 2 returns in variation 4.
72
Example 2.23: D. 802, Variations 2 (mm. 60–63) and 4 (110–13)
Variation 2
#2 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
{
Flute & 4 ∑ ∑ œ œ
œ™
œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ
# œ œ œ œœ œœœ #œœœ œ œ œ œ œœ
œ™
œ œ n#œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ nœœ œœ œœ
& 42 œ œ œ
œœ
œœ œ
Piano œ œ
? # 42 œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œœ œœ œ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ# œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ #œ œ#œ#œ œ œ œ œ
f
œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ# œ œ# œ œ#œ#œ œ œ œ œÔR œ œ œ œ

œœ
œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ RÔ œ # œ œ œ
Variation 4
#2 œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ. œ. œ
∑ ∑
{
Flute & 4
œnœ œ œ œœ
# œœ œœœœœ
œœœœ œœœ
œœ œnœ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ
œ
œ œ œnœ œ
œ
œœ œœœœ œ œ
œ œ bœ œ œ
& 42 #œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œœœœœœ œœœœ bœ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œnœ œ œ œ#œ œ
œ RÔ
Piano f 6 6 6 6
#œ ™
? # 42 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œœ œ œ œ nœ œ
#œ ™
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ
œœ œ œ œ nœ
A similar situation occurs in D. 823/ii across variations 1 through 4 (see boxed measures in Example
2.24A–D): the varied presentations of this half-measure pick-up result in different metric
interpretations from the listener’s perspective, for it can be interpreted as either a displaced
downbeat or pick-up, thus capitalizing on an ambiguous component of the theme’s construction
(while retaining some elements of ambiguity).
In the first variation, shown in Example 2.24A, the upward leap in the primo right hand
followed by a series of stepwise descending turn figures, reinforces a hearing in which the first half
measure sounds as a pick-up. The change of direction in the bass (the signature stepwise cadential
bass line of the Classical style) similarly reinforces this grouping. The second variation (Example
2.24B) contains the clearest realization of a half-measure pick-up. Harmonically, a root-position
dominant seventh held for two beats resolving to first-inversion tonic emphasizes the downbeat
status of m. 33. Transforming the motivic, written-out turn figure from variation 1 into a two-beat
fanfare (that repeats a single pitch), variation 2 further reinforces the pick-up status of this half
measure.
73
Example 2.24A: D. 823/ii, Variation 1 (mm. 1–2)
{
Variation 1
# > œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
& #C œ œ œ œ
primo
#
pp
& #C ∑ ∑ Ó
{
> œœ
? ##C #˙˙˙ ‰ œJ
œ
‰ œœJ
œ
‰ œJ
#œ
‰ œœJ
œ
‰ œœ
nœœ
‰ #œ
J J
pp
j
secondo
? ##C j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ j ‰ œ ‰
œ™ œ œj œ œ œ
œ
S-: L& t K^ kko^ Lw & K L&; kl
Example 2.24B: D. 823/ii, Variation 2 (mm. 33–34)
{
Variation 2
œ. œ. œ. >œ .
# œ œ œ œ œ >œ œ. œ. œ ˙
& #C
3 3
#
fpp
j
& #C œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ. #œ. #œ. œ Œ
3 3
œ. œ. œ. œ
{
œœ ™™ œœ >œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. >œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. . >œ. œ. œ. >œ. œ. œ.
? ##C #œ ™ œ
J
#œ
>œ. 3œ. œ. œ. 3œ. . .
? ##C œ ™ >. œ. œ. #œ. œ. >. œ. œ. >œ. œ. œ
sf pp
3 3 3 3
œ œ œ .œ œ
J
3 3 3 3 3 3
S-: L& k
Imitation in the third variation (see Ex. 2.24C) immediately thwarts the clarity of downbeat
placement established in variation two. The imitative distance between entries of one beat suggests
that the variation begins on a downbeat (in spite of the presence of a third-inversion dominant
chord). Nor does variation 4 clarify the status of the first half measure (see Ex. 2.24D); instead, this
realization presents a new experience in which the half-measure is perceived as an extended
hypermetrical downbeat. This is due in large part to the F-sharp held across the barline in the bass.
Ultimately, this variation challenges both pick-up and displaced downbeat perceptions.
74
Example 2.24C: D. 823/ii, Variation 3 (mm. 49–50)
{
Variation 3
œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œ œœœœ
# œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ # œfij
œ# œ œ œ œ
& #C
## œ ™ j œj j j j
pp
œ>œ ™™
& C œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ #œœ ‰ œœ Œ
œœ œ œœ œœ
{
œ œ œœœœ
œ œ#œfi #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
j
? ##C Ó œ &œ œ œ œ
pp
? ##C Ó ‰ j j j ‰ Œ
œ™ œ œ œ œ
S-: Lt K (over V) L& K
Example 2.24D: D. 823/ii, Variation 4 (mm. 65–66)
{
Variation 4
## œ œ œ œ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ™
& # ##C œ œ œ™ œ œ œ œ
3 3
3
##
p
& # ##C ˙ œ œœ œœ œœ ˙˙
{
˙ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? #### C ‰ œ œ œ
#
p 3 3 3 3 3
? #### C ˙ œ
# œ œ ‹œ ˙
S=: L& (ped) {K} {KL} {K} lkko&; lk lk
Cyclical procedures are extremely common throughout Schubert’s variation sets. In variation
form, these devices reframe the relationships between variations and the theme in a given set,
creating new pathways of listening through a piece. Indeed, Schubert’s use of cyclical elements
contributes to the sense of nostalgia we feel as listeners when a previous passage is recalled.
Unsurprisingly, metaphors of memory and nostalgia are frequently employed to describe Schubert’s
sonata forms in which these devices continue to be employed.100
100Cyclical elements have long been connected to memory in other musical forms; however, I frame them as part of
Schubert’s variation practice. For more on Schubert and memory, see Leon Botstein, ed., “Memory and Schubert’s
Instrumental Music,” special issue, The Musical Quarterly 84, no. 4 (2000).
75
***
Difference in sameness, familiarity and distance—these ideas are frequently rehearsed in Schubert
scholarship. The question pursued throughout this dissertation, and that I have begun to answer in
this chapter, is how: how did Schubert compose music that is perceived in such personal, if not
ephemeral, ways? The crux of Schubert’s style, I argue, is varied thematic restatement. Variation, as a
set of compositional techniques, a formal genre, and a compositional aesthetic, was integral to
Schubert’s musical life. He composed variation sets throughout his career and inflected those works
with elements of personal style: in Schubert’s variations there is a tension between thematic
restatements inherent to the genre and the urge to vary, and often the urge to vary trumps generic
requirements (e.g., restatements inherent to theme types often succumb to variation). As a result, we
find procedures—such as nesting variation—encroaching upon themes themselves. A similar
tension in the treatment of repetition exists in his sonata forms, and again, variation prevails.
Another tension in Schubert’s variations addressed in this chapter is that between style and
convention. While Schubert employed the Classical ornamental plan for his variation sets, there are
many ways in which he breaks from tradition. In adopting a composer-specific approach to
establishing norms in Schubert’s variations, I derived an idiomatic practice comprising techniques of
rhythmic variation, contrapuntal devices, harmonic variation, and cyclical procedures. This variation
perspective informs my analyses of Schubert’s treatment of thematic restatement; that is, these
strategies for altering the repetition or return of thematic material operate beyond the confines of
variation form. As such, their use guides my analyses of sonata forms in Chapter 3.
I conclude with a final example (Ex. 2.25), the theme from the second movement of D. 810.
This theme exemplifies the impact of variation techniques on form-functional analysis. Moreover, it
displays many techniques outlined in this chapter, and foreshadows the chapters to come in further
probing the relationship between variation and formal functions in Schubert’s sonata forms. The
theme is motivically dense, and saturated with processes of variation (as a means of altering
restatements and deriving material).
A B (or variation 1 of A)
antecedent? consequent antecedent?

bi ci bi ci new idea ci
Violin I
° b
&b C ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ #œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ #˙ ˙ Ó ™™ ™™ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙
pp f
Violin II
b Ó
&b C ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙
™™ ™™
˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ
pp f
œ œ ˙ œœ œœ ˙˙ ˙ ˙
Viola B bbC ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ™™ ™™ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ
œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ #˙ ˙
pp f
Violoncello
?b ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙
˙
™™ ™™ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ
pp f
¢ bC
J-: k {kl kkOt} k L& wyyq k k {kl kkOt} k L& % k LK k^ kl kko^ L

(ped) PAC? (ped) $____#
PAC? HC
A′ (or variation 2 of A)
consequent presentation consequent
new idea ci bi (varied) bi (response) bi ci
13 T#
° bb ˙ ˙ Ó Ó
& ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ b˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ nœ ™ œj ˙ ™™
decresc. p pp cresc. p p
b Ó Ó
&b ˙ ˙ #˙ ˙ ™™
Example 2.25: Variation Techniques in D. 810/ii, Theme (mm. 1–24)
˙ b˙ ˙ nœ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ #˙ œ nœ ˙
p
˙ œ œ œ œ n˙
decresc. p pp cresc. p
B bb ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ n˙ ˙˙ n˙˙ Ó ™™
decresc. p pp cresc. p p
? bb ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ #˙ œ œ n˙ œ #œ ˙ ˙ Ó ™™
˙ œ œ ˙
p
¢
pp
n˙
decresc. cresc. p p
LK kw kl lk^ lkko& ; L & K K L K^ L K Lr K L K {w} Le {w} Lr {w} Le Lw & k
III:PAC PAC
KKK III: IAC
LK L
76
77
Varied restatements ground the construction of the theme in D. 810/ii. Retrospectively, we
can comprehend the small-ternary construction of the twenty-four bar theme (due, in large part, to
the end rhyme of cadences in mm. 7–8 and 23–24). Processually, the theme is perhaps best
understood as a series of variations on an eight-bar (“periodic”) theme. The use of variation
techniques throughout the twenty-four-bar theme problematizes real-time form functional analysis
(as part of an engaged listening experience). Moreover, processes of variation obfuscate distinctions
between tight-knit versus loose thematic construction, which impacts assessments of intrinsic
functionality. This, in turn, complicates intrathematic functional relationships. 101 Consider the
treatment of the first bar of the basic idea—every statement is altered through variations in either
melodic contour or harmonization. The first two periodic hybrids (the theme and variation 1) are
initiated by the same melody. However, the second statement is reharmonized (sounding over VI,
see boxed violin 1 in mm. 1 and 9), which gives the impression that m. 9 is possibly a varied repeat
of the A section rather than the beginning of a contrasting middle. The third hybrid (variation 2)
retains the same rhythm, thus recollecting mm. 1 and 9, but is more similar to m. 3 in contour (see
boxed violin 1 in mm. 3 and 17). In the context of the small ternary form, this imparts ambiguity
into the reprise: is it going to be full or compressed?
The A section, mm. 1–8, is chorale-style in texture, with a discernible melody in the first
violin (distinguished by register). The melodic content (bi + ci; bi + ci) and grouping structure (2 +
2 = 4; 4 + 4 = 8) indicate a period design. However, ambiguous cadential situations problematize
the apparent period: the bass line is essentially a tonic pedal (save two measures of V7, m. 3 and m.
7), which renders the cadences in mm. 4 and 8 problematic. Given the lack of harmonic progression
in the preceding measures it could be argued that there is cadential content, but not function, and as
a result each four-bar phrase is a cbi. If we do analyze cadential function in mm. 4 and 8, then the
cadences are hierarchically indistinguishable because both are PACs.102 From its very outset formal
functions in the theme are unclear, and the return of thematic material in two subsequent varied
repetitions continues to challenge, rather than clarify, the small ternary interpretation.
The contrasting middle traditionally exemplifies loose thematic construction, and attending
to the bass in mm. 9–16 we find a faster rate of harmonic change and an off-tonic, two-bar new idea
signifying medial function. Yet these elements are counterbalanced by tight-knit thematic
construction, which complicates both intrinsic functionality (as medial) and contextual functionality
(as contrasting middle). Attending to the melody and grouping structure reveals such tight-knit
101For more on intra- and inter-thematic (or phrase and thematic) formal functions, see Caplin, Classical Form, 17.
102According to Caplin, the hierarchical weighting of cadences is crucial to the period theme type, producing the
antecedent-consequent relationship. Ibid., 49.
78
elements; indeed, mm. 9–16 comprise a modulating period. Cadential articulations in the B section
create an antecedent-consequent relationship that the A section lacked. The use of the first bar of
the basic idea (reharmonized) and periodic construction muddles the distinction between mm. 1–8
as a tight-knit A section, and mm. 9–16 as contrasting middle.
Further confounding expectations is the third eight-measure statement in mm. 17–24. It
paradoxically begins as both a varied reprise of m. 1 and m. 3, as well as a repeat of m. 9. Moreover,
a divorce between the harmony/bass line and melodic-motivic material/grouping structure (similar
to the B section) exhibits elements of both tight-knit and loose construction, obfuscating the
passage’s form-functional role both internally and contextually. Furthermore, like the A section,
analyzing intrathematic functions in the eight-bar theme reveal its unique construction. Consider the
first four bars, mm. 17–20, which form a presentation phrase due to variations in the melodic
contour and harmonic progression. 103 This functional transformation reveals the malleability of
thematic material: indeed, every initiating four-bar group has held a different function: mm. 1–4 as
cbi, mm. 9–12 as antecedent, and mm. 17–20 as presentation. Moreover, the presentation phrase is
followed by an apparent consequent phrase, forming one of the least common hybrids. 104
Contextually, labeling mm. 17–24 as a thematic reprise is further complicated by the off tonic
“return” of the basic idea: the reprise begins as a retransition back to the home key. As such,
elements associated with either contrasting-middle or post-cadential function infiltrate what should
be A′. Yet the tight-knit grouping structure, melodic correspondence, and pseudo end-rhyme convey
a sense of thematic reprise.105
In contrast to the preceding form-functional analysis of the theme, from the perspective of
variation these three eight-bar groups relate as an embedded set of variations within the theme itself.
From this perspective, we can appreciate the use of techniques discussed throughout this chapter as
employed to transform thematic material (mm. 1–8) throughout mm. 9–24: processes of nested
variation, rhythmic alterations, repurposed material, and reharmonization (both pitch and thematic).
103 Altering intrathematic functions in variations is unique, even for Schubert. Typically variations follow the same
intrathematic layout as the theme. Other notable examples in Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets include D. 935/4 (the
theme comprises an archetypical antecedent while variation 4 comprises a sentential antecedent) and D. 968A/4 (the
theme’s A section comprises a period which, in variation 4, is transformed into an antecedent + continuation hybrid).
For more on sentential antecedents, see Ibid., 51.
104 For more on hybrid themes, see Ibid., 59–63. Caplin does not include presentation + consequent as a viable hybrid
theme: “Of the logically possible ways in which the various phrases of the sentence and period can be combined to make
a hybrid, one pattern is conspicuously absent—a theme that begins with a presentation and ends with a consequent …
such an arrangement of phrases brings a threefold statement of the basic idea. The resulting redundancy of material …
explains why this potential type of hybrid seldom occurs in the repertory” (Ibid., 63).
105 This transition is initiated by pitch reharmonization following a III: PAC closing the B section. B-flat, heard as ^1 in
m. 16, is isolated and reharmonized on the downbeat of m. 17 as ^5 at the beginning of a gradual transition back to
tonic, G minor. The reharmonization of a single pitch serves both a modulatory function as well as a means of varying
its harmonic context, similar to previous examples discussed in this chapter. Pitch reharmonization is also applied to the
tonic, heard as ^1 in the A section, ^3 in the B section, and synthetically as both ^3 and ^1 through the course of A′.
79
For example, elements of the basic and contrasting ideas, reharmonized and repurposed to initiate
statements beginning in mm. 9 and 17, creates a series of intricate relationships between varied
thematic statements. Rhythmic alterations distinguish mm. 9–16, while a return to the original
surface rhythm in mm. 17–24 is accompanied by reharmonization and repurposing of the original
contrasting idea’s contour. The isolation and reharmonization of a single pitch (B-flat) between the
second and third statements negotiates the distance between a III: PAC and the home key. Finally,
pseudo end-rhyme can also be understood as an element of variation: similar to Schubert’s variation
sets that end with a thematic reprise, recalling the A section brings the nested variations within the
theme to a close.
This complex example from Schubert’s theme-and-variation sets is not an outlier for the
web of relationships created through the composer’s use of variation techniques. The extensive use
of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms to continuously alter thematic repetitions problematizes
tenets of form-function theory: it impacts our assessments of intrinsic and contextual form
functionality, and destabilizes our conceptualizations of large-scale interthematic functions. Turning
to sonata forms in the following chapters these issues of form-functional analysis are magnified due
to the presence of higher-level grouping structures absent from theme-and-variation form (e.g., the
interthematic functions of exposition, recapitulation, and development). Approaching Schubert’s
sonata forms from the perspective of variation established in this chapter, I hope to deepen our
understanding of these works, revealing the variational logic underpinning their construction.
-Chapter 3-
Variation in Schubert’s Sonata Forms
In this chapter the focus shifts to works in sonata form, which I analyze from the perspective of
variation established through Chapters 1 and 2. My analyses highlight the composer’s use of the
techniques of variation identified in Chapter 2 as idiomatic for their nature and/or use: rhythmic
variation, contrapuntal techniques, harmonic variation, and cyclical procedures. Schubert often
employs these variation techniques to alter repetitions or returns of thematic material in sonata
forms. This could easily be interpreted in terms of thematic transformation or motivic development.
However, it is difficult to dissociate completely the techniques of variation used by Schubert from
variation form—especially those techniques codified in conjunction with the form itself (e.g.,
accompanimental gradatio, or minore versions of a theme). Therefore, when appropriate, I read
sections of music comprising concatenated, varied repetitions of thematic material, altered via
variation techniques, in dialogue with variation form. As I will demonstrate, analyzing such sections
of music from the perspective of variation reveals the use of variation form (on a local level) in
sonata forms as an organizational device. Indeed, Schubert’s treatment of repetition often evokes
variation form albeit embedded within an overarching sonata form design.
Sonata Form: Adolf Bernhard Marx and the Legacy of Development

Before delving further into the analysis of Schubert’s sonata forms, both the evolution of sonata
form (as a codified musical form) and the reception history of Schubert’s sonata forms merit further
discussion—the former having great influence on the latter. The generic template for sonata form,
as understood by many modern scholars, is largely indebted to the work of Adolf Bernhard Marx.1
He is perhaps the most influential theorist to date in the codification of sonata form. The third
volume (1845) of his four-volume treatise contains the first use of the term “sonata form” to
describe the form as we know it today: a three-part form, distinct from rondo and song forms due to
the presence of a development section. For Marx, sonata form is “of all the stable configurations
within the circle of homophonic forms, the richest” because it represents the fullest possible
realization of an “underlying [ternary] impulse in music … embodied in every formed musical
1 Adolf Bernhard Marx, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Komposition, praktisch-theoretisch, 4 vols., vol. 3 (Leipzig: Breitkopf &
Härtel, 1845). For more on the importance of A. B. Marx and the influence exerted by his treatise, see Patrick Wood
Uribe, “A. B. Marx’s Sonatenform: Coming to Terms with Beethoven’s Rhetoric,” Journal of Music Theory 55, no. 2 (Fall
2011).
80
81
utterance”: rest-motion-rest (Ruhe-Bewegung-Ruhe). 2 Of note is the increased importance of the
development section, referred to by Marx as the “Second Part,” in his understanding of sonata form:
it is the “primary locus of mobility within the very form that he distinguishes above all others for its
mobility,” the largest-scale manifestation of motion in his tripartite formulation.3 By elevating the
role of the development section (as a destabilizing force fundamental to the identity of sonata form
and, in turn, crucial to sonata form’s privileged position in his formal hierarchy) Marx tacitly imparts
an inherent bias towards techniques associated with processes of thematic development. Thus,
Marx’s theorization of sonata form provides a framework for the labeling of compositions lacking
traditional characteristics of development as inferior.
Influential as Marx’s theory was, both the theory and future applications of it are not without
problems, for a Marxian understanding of sonata form was adopted in subsequent scholarship
without considering the ramifications of his corpus. That is to say, our “generalized model” of
sonata form is based on Marx’s theory of sonata form, which in turn is influenced by the works of a
single composer: Beethoven. Scott Burnham has sagely attempted to reframe our understanding of
the theory offered by Marx, noting that “Marx’s philosophy can be seen as the result of his attempt
to understand and explicate the music of Beethoven.”4 In spite of this, a wealth of critical discourse
has adopted a Marxian-influenced model of sonata form as the basis for value judgments when
appraising Schubert’s sonata forms.5
In the context of a Beethovenian model of sonata form, Schubert’s instrumental music has
been greeted with skepticism. Historical contemporaries and twentieth-century scholars alike have
scrutinized Schubert’s handling of sonata form.6 Nineteenth-century commentaries tend to focus on
the length of movements, the character of themes (as too lyrical in nature) and their subsequent
2 A. B. Marx, Musical Form in the Age of Beethoven: Selected Writings on Theory and Method, trans. Scott Burnham (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997), 82; Scott Burnham, “Form” in The Cambridge History of Western Music Theory, ed.
Thomas Christensen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 887. What is more, Marx’s theory is highly
influenced by prevailing modes of thought in the nineteenth century—Hegelian dialectics and organicism.
3 Ibid.
4 In Marx’s treatise Beethoven is the primary analysand (with examples from over twenty of his piano sonatas cited).
Burnham, “The Role of Sonata Form in A. B. Marx’s Theory of Form,” Journal of Music Theory 33, no. 2 (Autumn 1989),
260.
5 See Chapter 1 for a more detailed discussion of criticisms of Schubert’s sonata forms.
6 See, for example, Anne Hyland and Suzannah Clark regarding the critical reception of Schubert’s large-scale
instrumental music by his peers and critics in the decades after his death—as many of these works were first heard and
published posthumously. Anne M. Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology? Towards an Understanding of Repetition in Franz
Schubert’s Instrumental Chamber Music,” PhD diss. (King’s College, University of Cambridge, 2010); Suzannah Clark,
Analyzing Schubert (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011). Similarly, John Gingerich confronts the negative
reception of Schubert’s late instrumental works. He demonstrates that even Schubert’s close friends took issue with his
instrumental music. Gingerich, “‘Classical’ Music and Viennese Resistance to Schubert’s Beethoven Project,” in Schubert’s
Late Music: History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2016).
82
treatment over the course of a movement. 7 These issues still appear in twentieth-century
assessments: critics continue to fault Schubert’s mishandling of the form itself, and equate an absence
of compositional techniques “required” by the form with compositional ineptitude.8 The crux of the
issue is Schubert’s treatment of thematic restatement, often simplified as “repetition,” in sonata
form: Schubert’s thematic restatements are incongruent with the sonata model as presently
theorized.9
However, before considering the relationship between compositional techniques and formal
genres further, it bears mention that Schubert’s sonata forms pose an interesting problem for
scholars. Several of the works I analyze achieved canonical status in spite of criticism generated by
their dissimilarity to Beethoven’s oeuvre, a dissimilarity that cannot easily be understood in terms of
history. Although Beethoven was born twenty-seven years before Schubert, they both lived in
Vienna from 1797 until their deaths. 10 To a degree, the two composers were historical
contemporaries. Analysts who explain “unanalyzable” passages through recourse to generational
difference (or, as demonstrated in Chapter 1, aspects of Schubert’s character) perhaps misrepresent
the relationship between Schubert and Beethoven.11 Rather, the difficulty in analyzing Schubert’s
7 There is much to be said about the tenor of these criticisms. To essentialize, Schubert’s reputation grew as a composer
of domestic music, especially Lieder, and his music as become inextricably linked to the idea of lyricism, or the lyric,
regardless of instrumental genre. Both the themes themselves and the treatment of thematic material in Schubert’s
sonata forms have been deemed “lyrical.” Until recently, the majority of critical commentary has been couched in terms
of Schubert’s lyricism. For more on this see Chapter 1.
8 Felix Salzer published perhaps the most influential critique of Schubert’s lyricism. Salzer, “Die Sonatenform bei Franz
Schubert,” Studien zur Musikwissenschaft 15 (1928).

9 Restatement, as defined by William E. Caplin, is “the reappearance of any formal unit as either a repetition or a return,
with or without ornamental or structural changes.” Caplin, Analyzing Classical Form: An Approach for the Classroom (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 537. For more on the relationship between repetition and the critical reception of
Schubert’s instrumental music, see Chapter 1.
10 I acknowledge that being born twenty-seven years apart is significant. Moreover, it can—and has been—argued that
although Beethoven and Schubert lived in Vienna at the same time, their respective lived experiences were so different
as to negate a sense of contemporaneity (for more on this see Otto Biba, “Schubert’s Position in Viennese Musical Life,”
19th-Century Music 3, no. 2 (November 1979); Tia De Nora, Beethoven and the Construction of Genius: Music and Politics in
Vienna 1792–1803 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995); Benjamin Korstvedt, “‘The
Prerogative of Late Style’: Thoughts on the Expressive World of Schubert’s Late Works,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History,
Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton, (Cambridge University Press, 2016). While there were
significant differences in each composer’s life, which would in turn impact their respective compositional styles, I am
wary of arguments that adopt this position in order to justify analytical difficulties posed by Schubert’s music without
questioning the theories themselves.
11 However, the assumption that Beethoven’s music entirely fits theories of form is not entirely true. While works from
Beethoven’s middle period are prominent in new Formenlehre treatises, his late compositions are equally problematic for
analysts—and are therefore analyzed less frequently in texts and treatises. Moreover, many of these pieces were
composed around the same time as Schubert’s instrumental works in sonata form—Beethoven’s late period began ca.
1815, Schubert’s first completed piano sonata composed in 1817. There are, perhaps, more similarities between late-
Beethoven and Schubert than we care to admit when maintaining a binary between Beethoven and Schubert. Take the
notion of lyricism: while Schubert is often criticized for his lyricism in sonata form, we do not seem to fault
“Beethoven’s concern for lyricism [that] deepened throughout his late period” (Joseph Kerman, Alan Tyson, with Scott
Burnham, “Ludwig van Beethoven, Late-period style,” Grove Music Online
http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/40026pg16?q=beeth
oven%27s+late+period&search=quick&pos=1&_start=1#firsthit)
83
sonata forms stems from our models—our reliance on a single, “generalizable” model—and not
from a failure in Schubert’s music.12 While the differences between Schubert and Beethoven have
been wielded to cast Schubert in unfavorable light, many modern-day scholars seek new forms of
discourse that approach Schubert’s music on its own terms.
I offer one such discursive turn, in which the binary opposition of development and
variation is problematized. 13 The various means of restating musical material employed within
compositions have influenced the construction of music theories, especially theories of musical
form, and the binary between development and variation (or thematic development versus varied
repetition) has been particularly impactful in this regard. In this binary, development is considered a
mode of restatement that destabilizes thematic material. Compositional techniques associated with
developmental restatements have come to be understood as loosening devices by form scholars:
these include the fragmentation and/or foreshortening of thematic units, weakening of cadential
articulation, and the use of sequential harmony.14 Variation, by contrast, provides a subtler method
for altering thematic restatements, e.g., employing melodic figuration or rhythmic diminutions.15
Thus, a varied restatement of a theme (an ostensibly tight-knit phrase) will retain its tight-knit
construction while a developmental restatement will significantly alter the presentation of thematic
material, transforming a phrase from tight-knit to loosely organized.
These modes of restatement, and the compositional techniques associated with them, form a
second binary: forms that are teleological versus those that are additive.16 On the one hand we find
sonata form as the quintessential teleological musical form. Compositional techniques associated
with development, a crucial component of sonata form, have thus become not only indicative of,
12 The use of theories derived from corpuses of Classical sonata forms to analyze Romantic sonata forms has posed
many problems for scholars of musical form (see, for example Paul Wingfield. “Beyond ‘Norms and Deformations’:
Towards a Theory of Sonata Form as Reception History,” Music Analysis 27, no. 1 (2008). Currently we lack an
overarching theory of form for Romantic music (akin to Caplin’s theory of formal functions for music of the high
Classical style), and it is debatable whether or not this is even possible. For a succinct summary of this debate, and more
on the potential directions we can take in pursuing such a theory, see Steven Vande Moortele, “In Search of Romantic
Form,” Music Analysis 32, no. 3 (2013).
13 Hyland, in her study of varied repetitions in Schubert’s sonata forms, addresses a similar concern for distinguishing
between development and variation. After surveying a great deal of writings on the subject in her dissertation, she
ultimately distinguishes between development “as a formal function or compositional process” and “varied repetition
and variation.” Specifically, Hyland sought to establish criteria—compositional techniques—that serve as intrinsic
markers of development function. She privileges techniques that create something new, that leave behind “the theme in
its original configuration” in codifying development (e.g., inversion, fragmentation, and liquidation), and contrasts these
techniques with variation (where the theme is ever present, serving as a constant point of reference). Hyland, “Tautology
or Teleology,” 39–40. However, the distinction between “completely new” and “thematic variant” is entirely subjective,
and would be (I assume) completely dependent upon the individual listener or analyst.
14 The distinction between tight-knit and loose organization is crucial to Caplin’s theory, as this concept defines formal
relationships on nearly every level of formal structure. For more on this distinction, see Caplin, Classical Form, 84–5.
15 For more on the aesthetics of variation, see Chapter 2.
16 For more on the binary opposition between teleological, or developmental forms (e.g., sonata form) and additive
forms (e.g., theme-and-variation form), see Elaine R. Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1993) and Anne M. Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology.”
84
but also a requirement for, a sonata form. On the other hand, theme-and-variation sets are
considered the epitome of additive forms. As such, employing variation procedures within a sonata
form undermines its goal-driven nature. 17 The direct correlation of developmental and additive
compositional techniques with their respective musical forms has had a significant impact on the
reception of Schubert’s sonata forms given his penchant for varied restatements in sonata form.
In recent decades a significant portion of Schubert scholarship has devoted itself to refuting
the inherited binary of teleological thematic development versus additive (read: lyrical) thematic
restatements within sonata form. A great deal of this work has probed the nature of Schubert’s
lyricism, recontextualizing it within a larger socio-cultural aesthetic framework. I, too, reject the
notion that lyricism is antithetical to early nineteenth-century sonata form. What is more, I believe
Schubert’s infamous lyricism is indebted to variation (as a set of compositional techniques and
formal processes). Thus, we cannot deny the import of variation, and the compositional techniques
associated with it, with regards to Schubert’s idiom. My analyses highlight Schubert’s continued use
of variation techniques to alter thematic restatements, interrogating the impact of variation
techniques on formal functions in sonata form. Ultimately, through privileging variation in analysis, I
offer a new framework through which scholars can evaluate Schubert on his own terms.
Analysis: Variation Techniques in Sonata Form

My corpus comprises first-movement sonata forms from three instrumental genres (piano sonatas,
string quartets, and symphonies) composed between 1820 and Schubert’s death in 1828. In this
chapter I present excerpts from the Unfinished Symphony (D. 759/i), D Minor String Quartet (D.
810/i), G Major String Quartet (D. 887/i), C Major Symphony (D. 944/i), String Quintet in C Major
(D. 956/i), and G Major Piano Sonata (D. 894/i). From these select examples it is possible to better
understand the role of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms.
My analyses of variation in sonata form are divided into three overarching categories in
which the scope of inquiry is gradually broadened. First, I demonstrate the use of variation
techniques as compositional techniques, isolating instances in sonata forms of the techniques
established as idiomatic in Chapter 2. I then present larger contexts in which the extensive use of
variation techniques evokes the presence of variation form as a means of organizing repetitions
within large-scale formal units as quasi variation sets. I close with examples demonstrating varied
thematic restatements spread out (or, distributed) over the course of an entire sonata form. As we
17 I discuss this in greater detail in Chapter 4.

85
move from isolated incidents to larger-scale units of form, the influence of variation as both a
compositional technique and as an organizing force comes to the fore.
Variation as Compositional Technique

As I put forth in Chapter 1, techniques of variation would have been an important part of
Schubert’s compositional toolbox, especially in improvised settings. His continued use of variation
techniques in composed genres is suggestive of variation as a stylistic marker in Schubert’s idiom,
one indebted to his musical-social life. This section highlights occurrences of the four variation
techniques, established in Chapter 2, in sonata forms: rhythmic variation, contrapuntal techniques,
harmonic variation, and cyclical procedures.
Example 3.1: D. 894/i, Subordinate Theme, Melodic Gradatio (mm. 27–28, mm. 37–38)
{
Subordinate Theme
>œ ™ >œ ™ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
Variation Theme = sentence (extended)
. œ. œ.
& 8 ##œœ ™™ œ™ œ™
# 12
27
œ œ œœ œœ œ œ œ
>œ ™
œ™ J
> œ. œ. .
? # 12 œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ ##œœ œœ nœœ œœ
8 œ™ œ œ œ™ œœ œœ œ. #œœœ. œœ. œ œœœ. œœœ. œœ. œ™
œœ œœ
œ™ œ
{
Varition 1 = sentence (extended)
œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ mœ œ œ œ
# #œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ
37
œ œ
œ œ œœœ œœœ œ
&
# > >
& j œœ j œœ œ œ j œ jœ œœ ##œœ œœ nœœ œœ
œ™ œ™ œ˙ ™ # œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ.
Rhythmic variants are common in Schubert’s sonata forms, and the use of rhythmic
variation to alter a thematic repetition is highly suggestive of variation form.18 Example 3.1, from D.
894/i, demonstrates processes of rhythmic variation applied in order to vary repetitions within the
subordinate theme complex. The theme complex begins with an extended sentence (mm. 27–36)
and its varied repetition (mm. 37–46). Compare the setting of the basic idea in mm. 27–28 with its
return in mm. 37–38. The repeated passage is shifted up an octave and both the melody and
18Of the many possible rhythmic alterations (see Table 2.2), gradatio—a technique strongly associated with Classical
variations—provides perhaps the strongest allusion to variation form when used in sonata form. I demonstrate examples
of this throughout this and the following chapter (e.g., D. 956/i and D. 958/i).
86
accompaniment are subject to rhythmic alterations; the diminuted and embellished melodic line is
especially reminiscent of the treatment of repetition in variation form.
Similar to rhythmic variation, contrapuntal techniques are regularly found in Schubert’s
sonata forms: both imitation and re-voiced material, common in his variation sets, are employed to
alter restatements of thematic material. What is more, instances of melodic inversion and (almost)
strict imitation occur more often in sonata forms.19 The treatment of imitation is especially striking
in this regard: one may speculate that the more “serious” nature of sonata form—as a genre,
compared to theme-and-variation sets—prompted the composer to demonstrate his technical
prowess through the use of such contrapuntal devices. Example 3.2, from D. 956/i, demonstrates
such (almost) strict imitation employed in the subordinate theme to vary thematic restatement: note
the canon between violin 1 and viola (boxed) and gradatio in violin 2 and cello 1.20
Example 3.2: D. 956/i, Subordinate Theme, Contrapuntal Techniques (mm. 100–104)
œ
° c ˙™
œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ œ
#œ œ #œ
100
œ
Violin I & p
Violin I
œ. œ. . . . œ. . . . œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
II & c R œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ J ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
Violin II
Violin œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
˙™ œ œ ˙™ œ œ
pp
#œ œ
stacc. sempre
œ œ #œ
Viola B c œ
Viola Œ Ó ∑
#œ œ œ œ œJ. #œ œ œ œ œJ.
pp
> >
B c œ ‰ >˙ œ œ œ œ œJ. ‰ ˙ >
‰ ˙ œ œ œ œ œJ. ‰ ˙ >
‰ ˙ ?
Violoncello
Violoncello1
J œœœœ
pp
?c
Violoncello
Violoncello2
¢ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ
pp
Another example of imitation comes from the development section of D. 759/i. Material
from the introduction is treated imitatively, shown below in Example 3.3. I use boxes to show the
transformation of thematic material over the first thirteen bars of the development. The rectangular
box (mm. 114–18) illustrates material from the introduction, transposed to iv, initiating the
development section.21 The violin entry in m. 122, boxed with dotted lines, begins as a second
statement of introductory material; however, it diverges after two bars (compare mm. 114–15,
circled, with mm. 122–23). This “new” cbi that appropriates material from the introduction is
subsequently treated imitatively—see the bassoon and viola entries beginning in m. 123 (similarly
marked).
19 See also the Quartettsatz (D. 703) which begins with strict imitative entries (from highest to lowest voice) in mm. 1–9,
or the development of D. 804/i, mm. 119–28, in which the cello and violin 1 are set in strict imitation.
20 I consider the larger context of this passage in the following section, as it is part of a subordinate theme group using
variation as a structuring device.

21 Correspondence measures: mm. 1–5, downbeat = mm. 114–18, downbeat.
87
Example 3.3: D. 759/i, Development (mm. 114–26)
Development
œ ˙™ #˙ ™
114
Bassoon
? ## 43 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ˙™ ˙
° ## 3 #˙ ™
pp
˙™ ˙ œ ˙™ ˙™
Violin 1 & 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
™
pp
#˙ ™
#
Violin 2 & # 43 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ˙™ ˙ œ ˙ ˙™
#˙ ™
pp
B ## 43 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ œ ˙™
Viola
˙™ ˙
æ æ æ æ æ
˙ œ ˙™ œ œ nœ ™
pp
? ## 3 ˙™
˙™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™
4 ˙ ˙™ ˙™
Violoncello
pp
æ æ æ æ æ
? ## 3 ˙™ ˙ œ ˙™ œ œ nœ ™
Contrabass
¢ 4 ˙ ˙™ ˙™ ˙™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™ n ˙æ™
pp
Examples 3.4A and B demonstrate the use of re-voiced material in a transition section within
the subordinate theme of D. 810/i. Example 3.4A depicts mm. 82–84: measures 83ff function as a
large-scale continuation (following the “super” presentation in mm. 61–82) that becomes part one in a
two-part transition.22 Example 3.4B depicts the first two measures of transition part two (mm. 90–
91). While similar material comprises both sections—the first in III, the second in V—material is re-
voiced to vary its presentation. In Example 4A new material in the first violin (a line of running
sixteenths) is accompanied by fragmented statements of the subordinate theme’s basic idea—the
former is boxed in dotted lines, the latter in solid lines. During the repetition beginning in m. 90, the
cello and viola share what was the first violin’s line, while violins 1 and 2 play what was shared
between cello, viola, and violin 2. The passage begun in m. 90 leads to a half cadence, followed by a
standing on the dominant (in A major) prior to variation 2.
22 One might label this passage as a transition between subordinate themes 2 and 3; however, I prefer to label the entire
large-scale formal unit comprising mm. mm. 52–134 as a subordinate theme complex, with this transition section
occurring between constituent parts of the complex.
88
Example 3.4A: D. 810/i, Large-Scale Continuation ⇒ TR1 (mm. 82–84)
large-scale continuation ⇒ TR1

end of the Theme (= “super” presentation)
°
82 œ œ ™
œ œ œ ™™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œn œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ nœ
œ#œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Violin I & bc R œ œ œ #œ nœ
fp
f
& bc œ œ œ™ œ œ™™ œ œ Œ Ó ∑
Violin II
R f
œ™
= m. 62
œœ œ
™™ œ ˙
B bc œœ nœ œ
œ œœœ œ R
œ œ œ œ œ fœ
Viola
‰™
œ™™
B bc œ nœ ™
¢
? r Œ Ó Œ œ#œ #œ
Violoncello
œœ œ œ R
f
H=: Le & K
abandoned cad? PAC (elided)?
or evaded?
Example 3.4B: D. 810/i, TR2 as Variation of TR1 (mm. 90–91)
TR2 = mm. 83ff, revoiced

2
œ™™
° œ #>œ œ . #œ. nœ ™™ œ #>œ œ. œ. ™ œ.
90
R œ™
&b R
ff
#œ. nœ ™™
r r
& b œ™™ œ #œ
>
œ œ. ™ œ #œ
>
œ. œ™
. œ.
ff
œ œ
Bb œ Œ nœ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Ó œ
œ
? œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ ˙
ff
¢ b œ œ
œ
ff
Harmonic variation in Schubert’s sonatas frequently appears as pitch reharmonization, most

often at the end of a transition leading into a subordinate theme. 23 Instead of an extended
modulating passage within the transition proper, a single pitch common to both the home and
subordinate key is isolated and reharmonized in the subsequent key.24 Susan Wollenberg refers to
these unconventional moments as “magical” transitions. 25 My understanding of such brief
23 Schubert does use changes in mode to alter thematic repetitions, thus referencing the tradition of minore variants in
Classical variation sets (e.g., D. 958/i and D. 804/i).

24 This occurs in both movements with one subordinate key (e.g., D. 759/i) and those with two subordinate keys (e.g.,
D. 956/i).
25 Susan Wollenberg has written extensively on the topic. For more, see Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints: Studies in the
Instrumental Works (Burlington: Ashgate, 2011); Wollenberg, “Schubert’s Poetic Transitions,” in Le Style Instrumental de
Schubert: Sources, Analyse, Évolution, ed. Xavier Hascher (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2007); and Wollenberg,
89
modulations is informed by Schubert’s variation practice: this technique exemplifies continuity in
Schubert’s compositional idiom with regards to variation (and more specifically, the consistent use
of variation techniques). Pitch reharmonization is common in Schubert’s variation sets as a means of
transitioning between home key and off-tonic variations, and its use in sonata forms furthers my
argument that variation is stylistically important with regards to Schubert’s compositional idiom.
In sonata form, modulating via pitch reharmonization has ramifications with regards to the
formal function of a transition section.26 The function of a transition is to destabilize the home key,
and this is typically done through a modulation. However, a modulation is not a necessary condition
of transition function: transitions can be non-modulating. In a non-modulating transition the home
key is weakened through the presence of looser formal functions and by ending on dominant
harmony, with the subordinate theme beginning immediately in the subordinate key.27
The tonal structure of Schubert’s sonatas complicates non-modulating transitions for two
reasons: (1) there is often more than one subordinate key, and (2) the first subordinate key is
typically not the dominant, and is thus not prepared by a transition that ends with a home key half
cadence. The technique of reharmonization thus serves to connect the home key and non-traditional
subordinate keys in Schubert’s sonata forms (similar to the use of a home key half cadence
connecting to the dominant). Moreover, variation serves as a means of destabilization: a pitch first
heard in the context of the home key is isolated (destabilized) and reharmonized, reframing its scale
degree function. In works featuring such transitions modulation takes on a stronger role in
conveying transition function.
The transition of D. 956/i, shown in Example 3.5, is non-modulating. It ends with a home
key half cadence in m. 49 that is followed by a standing on the dominant (mm. 50–58). Modulation
occurs after cadential articulation, when standing on the dominant ⇒ pitch
reharmonization/modulation. The subordinate theme complex begins in m. 60, in E-flat major.28
Over the course of three bars, the pitch G is reharmonized: first heard as ^5 at the top of a V chord
in m. 58, G is isolated and reinterpreted through m. 59, and appears in m. 60 (still atop the texture)
“Schubert’s Transitions” in Schubert Studies, ed. Brian Newbould (Aldershot and Burlington: Ashgate, 1998). Wollenberg
uses D. 956/i as an example of a “magical” transition (of which there are 5 types). In this first type, a Classical key is set
up to introduce an unexpected one. D. 759/i belongs to the fifth type of “magical” transition, as it is one in which no
new key is prepared, but the subordinate theme enters after a quick shift to the new key. Wollenberg, “Schubert’s
Transitions,” 16–27.
26 Variations, however, are typically self-contained units not requiring a transition from one key to another in between.
Moreover, negotiating tonal space is not a common concern in the genre as off-tonic variations are uncommon. Yet in
Schubert’s variations this is not the case. We find examples of a prominent pitch at the end of one variation reappearing
at the beginning of the next reharmonized.
27 This tonal plan is viable in the Classical style, as discussed in Caplin, Classical Form, 127 and Robert Winter in “The
Bifocal Close and the Evolution of the Viennese Classical Style,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 42, no. 2
(1989).
28 I address the notion of subordinate theme complex later in this chapter.
90
harmonized as ^3 in E-flat major. This creates a smooth connection between the home key (C
major) and the first subordinate key (E-flat major).
Example 3.5: D. 956/i, Pitch Reharmonization (mm. 58–60)
“Interior theme”:
End of transition More trans./Subordinate theme
° c œœ.
.
œ. œ. b œ
58
^5 ⇒ ^3
Violin I & Œ Ó ∑ Œ bœ œ œ ‰
J
œ. . . œ.
Violin II &c œ Œ Ó ∑ Œ bœ œ J ‰
pp
œ.
B c œœ
pizz.
Œ Ó ∑ Œ Œ
Viola
bœ
. ˙™ ˙™
pp
w
? c œœ B
Violoncello 1
œ
˙™ b˙ ™
fp decresc. pp
? œ. ˙ #œ nœ
¢
Violoncello 2 c œœ B
decresc. pp
fp
D=: L Gx=: K
The modulation from home to subordinate key in D. 759/i is similar to that in D. 956/i.29
The main theme ends with an IAC in m. 38, leaving only four bars for a transition. If indeed mm.
38–41 are the transition, the importance of modulation (as destabilization) with regards to transition
function comes to the fore.30 Example 3.6 illustrates the pitch D negotiating tonal space between B
minor (the home key) and G major (the subordinate key). It appears in the upper voice of an IAC, as
^3, in m. 38; is isolated in mm. 38–41; and remains in an upper voice in m. 42, now functioning as
^5.
29 Several scholars have noted this transition. Brian Black discusses this brief transition as an example of Schubert’s
idiomatic modulations in sonata forms, contrasting Schubert’s strategies for modulation with those found in the High
Classical style. Black deems this “one of the most magical in Schubert’s works,” as the tonal “deflection” to G suggests
“a retreat to an inner world.” Brian Black, “Remembering a Dream: The Tragedy of a Romantic Memory in the
Modulatory Processes of Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” Intersections 25, nos. 1–2 (2005), 210. Clark cites this moment in her
discussion of modulatory techniques, specifically Schubert’s use of the intermediate dominant, in “A Gift to Goethe:
The Aesthetics of the Intermediate Dominant in Schubert’s Music and Early Nineteenth-Century Theoretical Thought,”
Nineteenth-Century Music Review 13, no. 1 (June 2016). Charles Fisk also discusses this transition in Returning Cycles: Contexts
for the Interpretation of Schubert’s Impromptus and Last Sonatas (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press,
2001), 91.
30 Some may analyze this as a covered PAC; however, D in the upper voice plays a larger role in terms of pitch
reharmonization across the exposition of D. 759/i.

91
Example 3.6: D. 759/i, Transition and Beginning of Subordinate Theme (mm. 38–42)
{
Main Theme Transition? Subordinate Theme
^ ^ ^ ^
œœ3 3⇒5 5
#3œ ‰ œœ. œœ. œœ.
38
& # 4 œœ ˙ ˙™ ˙™ œ œœ n œœœœ œ J
œ
pp .
œ œœ. œœ.
‰ œ
fz fp
? ## 43 œ Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑ J
œ
œ
S-: k J=: Lt K
IAC
There is a blurring of form-functional boundaries in the main theme through varied

repetitions in D. 759/i that bears further consideration. Specifically, there is an apparent lack of a
conventional transition section in D. 759/i (the only home key cadence is the i: IAC in m. 38).
However, varied repetitions in the large-scale consequent of the main theme (mm. 22–38) introduce
loosening devices that blur the boundaries between intrathematic functions in the main theme and
the interthematic function of transition. While the large-scale antecedent (mm. 13–21) is a
modulating presentation + continuation hybrid, the large-scale consequent replaces cadential with
continuation function. Moreover, continuation function is extended on two hierarchical levels: first,
the continuation section (mm. 26–30) is repeated, and second, the repetition itself is extended (mm.
31–38). The intrinsic markers of continuation function, model-sequence technique in mm. 26–29
and 31–34, and loosening devices such as phrase extension, are also associated with processes of
destabilization associated with the transition section. In D. 759/i, varied repetitions trouble the
distinctions between two different levels of form-functional hierarchy.31 In terms of intrathematic
functions, altered repetitions extend continuation function in the main theme; in terms of
interthematic functionality, loosening devices introduced through the varied repetition of mm. 13–
21 in mm. 22–38 could, perhaps, compensate for processes of formal loosening otherwise lacking in
this passage (in the form of a conventional transition).
The following series of examples illustrate pitch reharmonization apart from the
transition/subordinate theme juncture. In D. 759/i the pitch D is prominent in cadential
articulations throughout the exposition. Example 3.7 shows the various realizations of D as the
31 This is not unique to D. 759/i. In fact, it occurs throughout Schubert’s oeuvre. For example, his use of large-scale
sentential designs (created through the varied repetitions of thematic material) blurs the boundaries between (large-scale)
continuation function and thematic development (i.e., “developmental episodes”). I discuss this later in this chapter, as
well as in Chapter 4.
92
upper voice: first, it is heard as ^1 in a tonicization of III closing the large-scale antecedent phrase;
second, as ^3 in the IAC closing the main theme; and third, as ^5 in a VI: IAC (the first attempt at
bringing cadential closure to the subordinate theme).
Example 3.7: D. 759/i, Pitch Reharmonization in Exposition (mm. 19–20, 37–38, 88–90)
{
˙™
# ˙˙˙ ™™™
^ ^ ^
1 œœ3 5
j
#3 œ
19 37 88
œ
& # 4 œœœœ œœ œœœ˙œœœ œœ œœbœœ œœœœœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ nœœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ
‰ #œœJ œ œ œ œœ œ œ #œœ œ
? ## 3 œ j j
4 œ ‰ œœ œœ œœ œ ‰ ‰ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ j
J œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ
œ œ
S-: L& K S-: L& k J=: KL Lw & K
PAC IAC IAC
KKK
Example 3.8: D. 944/i, Development, Pre-Core into Core (mm. 278–81)
Development
{
Core
model
j j
278
œœ
(variation of Subordinate Theme bi)
bœ #œœ œ #œœ œ œœ
& C bœ ™ bœ Œ
bœ ™
bœ œœ œ œ œœ
œ œ >œ # œœ œ >œ # œ œ œ
. . . .
? C bœ bœ bœ œ. œ œ œ. œ. bœ bœ bœ œ. œ œ œ. œ.
œ #œ ™
j œ œ™ œ
nœ ™ œ œ™ J
J J
(variation of Main Theme bi)
xLK: KL K
LK
Another example of pitch reharmonization comes from the development of D. 944/i. At the end of
the pre-core, the pitch D-flat stands on top of the texture in m. 279 as the upper voice in a IV chord
(D-flat major chord), in the key of bVI (the passage is in A-flat major); see Example 3.8. This pitch
remains in the upper voice and is enharmonically re-spelled as C sharp atop an A-major chord at the
onset of development’s core. Reharmonization is not the only variation technique present at this
juncture in the development. The model of the core uses a cyclical procedure, for material first heard
in the exposition is repurposed in the development: the upper voices play a variation of the
93
subordinate theme’s basic idea, while material in the lower voices was first heard in the transition (m.
96ff, violins)—itself a variant of the main theme.32
Repurposing material—reusing thematic material but altering its function—also occurs in D.
887/i (see Example 3.9). A new countermelody introduced in main-theme variation 3 (boxed) is
repurposed twice (also boxed), connecting variations in the development to variations in the
exposition and recapitulation. What is more, this material appears in both main-theme and
introductory variations. 33 It is first repurposed in the Core (mm. 210–68), functioning as
accompanimental material throughout introductory-variations 3 and 4. Repurposing continues into
the recapitulation: in main-theme variation 4 the countermelody from main-theme variation 3
returns in violin 1 as a thematic variant. Thus, accompanimental figuration becomes thematic
variation.34
ExampleCyclical
3.9: D.Techniques:
887/i, Repurposed
RepurposedMaterial
Material,(mm. 201–3, 210–13, 292–95)
D. 810/i
Cumulative processes in variations on the Main Theme (Variation 3
through Variation
(Excerpts from 4)
Text variation 3, through the development, and variation 4)
Main-theme Variation 3 new countermelody
° #3 œ œ #œ nœ œ œ œ n œJ
Variation 3 -new counter melody
œ œ
201
∑ ‰ #œ œ œ #œ œ J ‰ Œ Œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ ‰ Œ Œ
Violin 1 & 4
? # 3 Œ ‰ ™ #œ œ™ #œ #˙ œ
‰ ™ œR œ ™ #œ #˙
œ
¢ 4
Cello R J ‰ Œ J ‰ ∑
Introductory Variation
Transition 3 in development
material
° # ™ ˙ œ œ œ œœœœœ
œœœœ
œœœ
210
Violin 1 & ˙ œ œœœœ œ œ

J œ œœœ
countermelody as accompaniment
œ ˙ œ œ
? # œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœœ ˙™
Cello
¢ J œœœ œœœœœœ
œ
-new accompaniment to TR material in the Development, derived from
° #
Main-theme Variation
Variation 4 4 variation 3 counter melody
œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ nœ œ œ œ ‰
292
& Œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J Œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Violin 1 J
countermelody ⇒ thematic figuration -accompaniment material becomes thematic figuration in Variation 4
œ ™™ œ œ™
?#
¢
r
œ nœ ™™ œ œ ™™ œ œ™ œ
œ œ™™ r r r
œ œ™ œ œ™
Cello
32 For more on cyclical procedures, including repurposing material, refer to Chapter 2. Variations in D. 944/i will be
discussed in subsequent sections, as it contains both variations within a theme group and variations that span the
movement.
33 I discuss the introductory and main theme variations in D. 887/i in further detail later in this chapter as examples of
distributed variations.
34 Similar to D. 935/iii, see Chapter 2, Ex. 21.
94
While the resulting effect of cyclical processes aligns with the aesthetic of additive forms,
this variation technique poses an aesthetic problem in D. 887/i from the sonata perspective: for
Dahlhaus, Schubert’s use of these cyclical procedures in the development renders it “little more than
a paraphrase of the principal group.” 35 From the perspective of variation, however, we can
understand the treatment of thematic material in the development section as part of a larger-scale
series of variations distributed across the sonata form. While the development section is a
paraphrase of the exposition (comprising varied repetitions), this should not be interpreted as a
mark against Schubert or his treatment of thematic material within the development. Rather, it
conveys a uniquely Schubertian (re)framing of the relationships between exposition, development,
and recapitulation.36
My final illustration of isolated instances of variation techniques, Example 3.10,
demonstrates repurposed material in the main theme of D. 956/i. In the A section, m. 4 (boxed) is
part of an expanded basic idea, thus functioning as beginning. In the B section we find the same
material in m. 32; however, the repetition of this melodic fragment is functionally varied, occurring
in a post-cadential phrase (also boxed) that is supported by a standing on the dominant leading into
A′ (which, beginning in m. 33, is a varied repetition of the hybrid in the A section).
As I demonstrated in this section, Schubert consistently uses variation techniques to alter
thematic restatements in the sonata forms. Moreover, we can understand certain idiomatic elements
more typically associated with Schubert’s sonata practice—such as pitch reharmonization—as more
broadly stylistic, and influenced by variation. In the following section I broaden the scope of my
analyses to consider the use of variation techniques to vary thematic repetitions in theme groups.
The apparent quasi-variation sets that result from this process evoke a commingling of variation
with sonata form. Through an analysis of variation (combined with form-functional analysis), I argue
that varied repetitions of thematic material are emblematic of his style, and thus purposeful, rather
than symptoms of Schubert’s inability to handle large-scale instrumental forms.
35Dahlhaus, “Sonata Form in Schubert,” 3.

36Schubert’s treatment of material in development sections, including the continued use of variation as compositional
techniques and organizational framework, will be addressed in greater detail in Chapter 4.
95
Example 3.10A: D. 956/i, Main Theme, (mm. 1–6)
Main Theme = Small Ternary
A = compound period
cbi
°
T
˙ ™™
j
1
Violin I & c
w w w ˙ œ bœ œ œ œ
p f
˙™
p
Violin II &c w w #w
w w
w w
p f
Viola Bc w w bw w nw n˙ ™
˙™
p f
w w w w w
Violoncello 1
?c
p f
?c
¢
Violoncello 2 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
Example 3.10B: D. 956/i, Repurposed Material in Main Theme (mm. 31–33)

B (contrasting middle) A′
T >œ ™
standing on the dominant
œ. œ. œ. œœ.
° bw
2
n˙ œ œ. œ.
31
&
f cresc. ff
>œ™ j
& #w ˙ nœ œ. œ ‰ œ. œ>
f
J
cresc.
˙™
ff
B ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œœ Œ ‰
œJ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ j
ff
œ. >œ
f cresc.
w ˙™ œ. œ
? œ œœ Œ Ó
f cresc. ff
œ.
˙™
?
¢ w w
ff
f cresc.
96
Embedded Variations
In large-scale units of musical form, the use of variation techniques to alter concatenating repetitions
of thematic material can evoke the presence of a variation form within the overarching sonata form.
That is, because variation techniques are ubiquitous, certain passages can be read in dialogue with
variation form; specifically, variation form can function as a means of structuring thematic
repetitions in sonata form. I refer to these formal units as embedded variations. From the listener’s
perspective, embedded variations momentarily transport one out of the time of sonata form and
into the temporality of variation.37
To describe the different ways in which variation form can be suggested through Schubert’s
consistent use of variation techniques, I employ the concept of tight-knit versus loose variation
construction—adapting terms borrowed from Caplin’s theory of formal functions. I refer to
situations in which sections of a sonata form are structured like a variation set (noted above) as
exemplary of tight-knit variation procedure. Tight-knit variation procedure requires the use of
variation techniques, including those identified in Chapter 2 as idiomatic, to alter repetitions of
thematic material. Most importantly, repetitions of thematic material exemplifying tight-knit
variation construction retain a close correspondence with the original.38 This can occur both within a
single, large-scale formal unit (referred to as an embedded variation form) but can also occur
dispersed throughout the sonata form (referred to as distributed variations).39
Varied restatements of thematic material that do not retain a close correspondence with the
original theme exemplify loose variation construction. For example, they may start similarly but as
the repetition progresses it soon charts a new course. Loose variations are perhaps more akin to
thematic transformation, and often blur the boundaries between variation and development. 40
37 Hyland, “In Search of Liberated Time, or Schubert’s Quartet in G Major, D. 887: Once More Between Sonata and
Variation,” Music Theory Spectrum 38, no. 1 (2016),” 106.
38 Hyland’s definition of variation reflects my understanding of tight-knit variation processes: “the theme is always
recognizable ‘behind’ the variation.” Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology,” 40.

39 I address distributed variations in the following section.
40 The concept of developing variation comes to mind in codifying loose variation procedures. Consider Arnold
Schoenberg’s notion of developing variation: “Music with a main theme, accompanied by and based on harmony,
produces its material by, as I call it, developing variation. This means that variation of the features of a basic unit produces
all the thematic formulations which provide for fluency, contrasts, variety, logic, and unity on the one hand, and
character, mood, expression, and every needed differentiation, on the other hand—thus elaborating the idea of the
piece.” This resonates with repetitions of thematic material in Schubert’s sonata forms that diverge after one or two
measures (e.g., D. 944/i, variation 2), as well as repetitions that retain a connection to the theme as the “idea” but change
the overall character (e.g., D. 956/i, variation 2). As Walter Frisch notes, Schoenberg “is not discussing variation form
… but a more flexible compositional procedure whereby different elements of a basic idea or shape—what he called a
Grundgestalt—are successively modified.” In Schubert’s idiom, elements of a theme are continuously modified;
sometimes these modifications retain a direct correspondence between theme and varied repetition (tight-knit), other
times they diverge (loose), but a connection to the theme always remains. Schoenberg, Style and Idea: Selected Writings of
Arnold Schoenberg, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California press, 1975),
397. Walter Frisch, “Brahms, Developing Variation, and the Schoenberg Critical Tradition,” 19th-Century Music 5, no. 3,
97
However, because variation techniques are employed to gradually alter repetitions of thematic
material, loose variations still suggest aesthetics more typically associated with the theme and
variation genre than sonata form.
Both tight-knit and loose variation procedures exemplify the notion of form as process. In
tight-knit variations, processes of concatenating varied repetitions lead to the perception of an
embedded variation form within a larger-scale unit in sonata form. Loose variations demonstrate the
processual model as experienced through the lens of intrathematic functions. For example, in
subordinate theme complexes structured as an embedded variation set, the initial presentation of a
theme and its first, tight-knit variation evoke theme and variation (as a formal process, an aesthetic,
and as an organizing force). The third, loose, variation negates the implied variation form through
processes more typically associated with sonata form. This is often accomplished through the
presence of phrase-structural and tonal loosening devices that imply continuation function. On the
one hand, these structures can be analyzed retrospectively as the constituent intrathematic functions
of a large-scale sentential design. On the other hand, from the listener’s perspective one would
experience the pull between variation and sonata form in real time, as a process unfolding over the
course of a large-scale formal unit. In this section I present two examples of purely tight-knit
variation construction. I then move on to examples of subordinate theme complexes that combine
both tight-knit and loose variation procedures.
D. 887/i
The quintessential example of a theme complex as variation set is the subordinate theme of D.
887/i.41 Note that I refer to this as a complex rather than a group even though the theme of the
variation set ends with a PAC. I argue that it is more profitable to understand the constituent parts
of this large-scale formal unit (an embedded theme-and-variation set that includes both variations
and developmental episodes) as belonging to one multi-part subordinate theme complex. The
concept of a theme complex is all the more relevant in embedded variation sets when a variation
theme does not end with a PAC.
I touched on Dahlhaus’s analysis of D.887/i at the beginning of Chapter 2, stressing the
importance of variation in Schubert’s compositional idiom. Here, I consider his analysis in further
detail to highlight the conflict between genre-based analytical expectations and Schubert’s own
(1982), 228. Robert Hatten also situates Schubert’s sonata forms in the evolutionary history of developing variation.
Hatten, “Schubert the Progressive: The Role of Resonance and Gesture in the Piano Sonata in A, 959,” Intégral 7 (1993).
41 D. 887/i is perhaps the most written-about example of variation in Schubert’s sonata forms. However, it is not the
only subordinate theme comprising a tight-knit set of variations. D. 958/i similarly employs tight-knit variation in the
subordinate theme. I will discuss this movement in further detail in Chapter 4.
98
sonata-form design (and the use of variation therein). This conflict results from a breach in the
“generic contract,” a term used by Jeffrey Kallberg (among others) to describe the “shared
understanding between composer and listener about the normative conventions, patterns, and
gestures of a genre.” 42 While Kallberg’s analyses of the generic contract pertain to Chopin’s
nocturnes, listeners and analysts approach sonata forms with a similar contract in mind.43 We have
set expectations for the treatment of thematic material in the three overarching formal units:
exposition, development, and recapitulation. In his analysis, Dahlhaus aligns points of thematic
return across the sonata form with conceptual variations; however, his struggle to assign labels
associated with sonata form to sections in D. 887/i betrays the tension between variation and sonata
(violations of the contract). For example, regarding the main theme, he concludes that “the principal
theme of the exposition … can be described only if we abandon the notion of a theme—as a clearly
outlined rhythmic-diastematic-harmonic shape—for that of thematic elements.”44 Considering D.
887/i from the perspective of variation not only reveals normative variation procedures, but also
reveals a means of organizing theme complexes common among Schubert’s other sonata forms.
What makes D. 887/i exceptional is not the use of variation techniques to alter thematic
restatements. Rather, it is the deployment of variation techniques to alter repetitions of fully-closed
thematic units that make clear the relationship between repetition, variation technique, and variation
form.
Much ink has been spilled on the first movement of D. 887/i following Dahlhaus’s
analysis.45 Scholars typically rehearse Schubert’s unique amalgamation of sonata and variation, and
how this relates to other characteristic aspects of Schubert’s idiom (e.g., lyricism or the concept of
42 The notion of the generic contract was first developed by Heather Dubrow in Genre (London: Methuen, 1982). For
more on the relevance of generic contract in Chopin’s idiom, see Jeffrey Kallberg, “The Rhetoric of Chopin’s Nocturne
in G minor,” 19th-Century Music 11, no. 3 (1988). Su Yin Mak employs this contract in her discussion of Schubert’s
fantasia, D. 940. Mak, “Formal Ambiguity and Generic Reinterpretation in the Late Instrumental Music,” in Schubert’s
Late Music: History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton, (Cambridge University Press, 2016).
43 James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s Sonata Theory is predicated on the existence of such a generic contract that
one enters into at the outset of the primary theme (P). For Hepokoski and Darcy, the generic contract comprises the
series of norms in sonata forms against which deformations are measured. James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements
of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata (Norms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-
Eighteenth-Century Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 65.
44 Carl Dahlhaus, “Die Sonatenform bei Schubert,” Musica 32, no. 2 (1978), trans. Thilo Reinhard as “Sonata Form in
Schubert: The First Movement of the G-major String Quartet, Op. 161,” in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed.
Walter Frisch (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1986), 6.
45 See, for example, David Beach, “Harmony and Linear Progression in Schubert’s Music,” Journal of Music Theory 38, no.
1 (1994); L. Poundie Burstein, “Lyricism, Structure, and Gender in Schubert’s G Major String Quartet,” The Musical
Quarterly 81, no. 1 (1997); Walter Frisch, “You Must Remember This: Memory and Structure in Schubert’s String Quartet
in G Major, D. 887,” ed. Leon Botstein in The Musical Quarterly 83, no. 4 (2000); Scott Burnham “Landscape as Music,
Landscape as Truth: Schubert and the Burden of Repetition,” 19th-Century Music 29, no. 1 (2005); Su Yin Mak,
“Schubert’s Sonata Forms and the Poetics of the Lyric,” Journal of Musicology 23, no. 2 (2006); Susan Wollenberg, Schubert’s
Fingerprints: Studies in the Instrumental Works (Burlington: Ashgate, 2011); and Anne Hyland, “In Search of Liberated
Time.”
99
landscape).46 More recently, Anne Hyland’s analysis contrasts the paratactic nature of Schubert’s
treatment of repetition with more normative procedures in sonata form.47 Given that the movement
is saturated with elements of variation, Hyland argues that two temporalities are evoked: one
associated with the goal-directedness of sonata form, the other with the “static, repetitive” elements
of variation. With regards to the subordinate theme, Hyland identifies two temporal strata: one
trajectory aligns with presentations of thematic material, the other is associated with the intervening
“sequential” or “developmental” episodes.48 Regardless of analytical or interpretive approach, D.
887/i is often singled out as unique for the obvious influence of variation on its construction;
scholars have yet to acknowledge the frequency with which Schubert uses variation to organize
theme complexes in sonata forms throughout his idiom.49
Figure 3.1: D. 887/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations

Exposition
Measure 1–15 15–24 24–33 33–64 64–77 77–90 90–109 109–122 122–141 141–154 154–168
ST theme v. 1 d.e. v. 2 d.e. v. 3

Development Recapitulation Coda
168–292 292–301 301–310 310–343 343–356 356–369 369–388 388–401 401–444
v. 4 v. 5 d.e. v. 6

Figure 3.1 contains a form diagram of D. 887/i. It outlines the individual units within the
subordinate theme complex in both the exposition and recapitulation, and distinguishes thematic
variations from intervening developmental episodes (which I will discuss in greater detail later).50
The variation theme (mm. 64–77) is a hybrid, an expanded cbi + consequent, and is homophonic in
texture (albeit with a discernible melody in violin 1). The theme ends with a V: PAC in m. 77. The
form of the theme is retained in each variation, thus contributing to the tight-knit construction.
Between the first and second variations (mm. 90–109) is a developmental episode; this
46 For example, Burnham notes the variations within the subordinate theme group; following Adorno he frames them in
terms of landscape, and identifies the ‘changes in lighting’ offered by variation techniques. This article opens with a
pertinent question “Can Schubert handle large instrumental forms?” While Burnham approaches this question through
the lens of harmony, he adopts a perspective of variation. Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth.”
47 Writing about the subordinate theme complex, Hyland observes that it is “notably paratactic and repetitive.” Hyland,
“In Search of Liberated Time,” 95.

48 Ibid., 96. Hyland also notes the effect of a “time reversal” in the subordinate theme that traps the listener “in a kind of
distorted time loop” created via the tonal trajectory. Ibid.

49 Thus, contra Hyland, I do not view D. 887/i as “exceptional, even among Schubert’s sonatas” in its “amalgamation of
variation techniques and sonata form.” Ibid., 89.

50 Variations on introductory and main theme material will be discussed in the next section, as they are distributed across
all formal sections of the first movement, while subordinate theme variations are confined to subordinate theme space in
both the exposition and recapitulation.
100
developmental episode occurs again between the variations 2 and 3 (mm. 122–41) and 5 and 6 (mm.
369–88). 51 These developmental episodes mediate between variations in different keys. As is
common in Schubert’s variation idiom, there are off-tonic variations. In the exposition variation 2 is
in B-flat major (bVI in relation to the local tonic). In the recapitulation the subordinate theme begins
in the subdominant; variations 4 and 5 are in C major, while variation 6 returns to the home key via
the dominant. With each variation in the exposition the melody is re-voiced, reminiscent of the
variations in D. 667/iv. In the exposition of D. 887/i the melody moves from violin 1 in the theme
to violin 2 in variation 1, cello in variation 2, and viola in variation 3. Revoicing continues in the
recapitulation: the theme returns to violin 1 in variation 4 and moves to violin 2, where it remains
until the end of the variations.
Another variation technique employed in both the exposition and recapitulation is the use of
inter-variational reference. In the exposition, the first variation introduces a new obbligato-style
accompaniment in violin 1; a change in texture in variation 2 retains homophony in the
accompaniment but introduces frequent rests that serve to lighten the previously dense musical
texture; variation 3 references both variations 1 and 2, bringing back the violin obbligato
accompaniment and retaining the accompanimental rhythms and lighter texture of variation 2. In the
recapitulation variations continue to reference one another: the fourth variation references the
theme, with melody in the violin, and begins to retrace the path of melodic revoicing initiated in the
exposition (giving the melody to violin 2 in variation 5). The fourth variation introduces a new
countermelody in the cello, referencing the introduction of a new accompanimental line in variation
1; the countermelody is absent in variation 5 but returns in variation 6.
In the subordinate theme complex of D. 887/i, Schubert not only varies every repetition of
thematic material, but also uses idiomatic variation techniques to do so. Both of these factors evoke
the underlying presence of variation form. That is, in this theme complex, variation form comes to
the fore as an organizational device, giving structure to thematic repetitions. What is more, even
those passages that pull us out of the embedded variation form, marked for their developmental
characteristics (the developmental episodes noted at the outset of my analysis), contain elements of
variation. For example, thematic material is set in loose imitation between viola, violin 2, and cello in
mm. 90–92 and material is revoiced between mm. 100–101 and mm. 102–5.
In closing my analysis of D. 887/i, I would like to consider the term “developmental
episode,” for it raises certain questions about the definition of development. I borrow the term from
Anne Hyland’s analysis, and I follow her use of it in naming passages occurring in between select
51For more on these developmental episodes and their impact on musical time, see Hyland “In Search of Liberated
Time.”
101
variations.52 In so doing, development comes to operate as an intrathematic formal function, and
certain compositional techniques come to the fore as intrinsic markers of development function.53
The specific techniques that characterize the episodes in question as developmental are model-
sequence technique and fragmentation. 54 Yet these techniques, both loosening devices and
demarcating grouping structure, are also intrinsic markers of continuation function. For Caplin, the
difference between the grouping structures we expect to find in continuation function (in a theme)
and core technique (in a development section) is one of scale.55 Take, for example, model-sequence
technique as it appears in continuation phrases versus developmental cores: continuations are
typically four bars (eight in a compound sentence), thus, the average size of a model is one (or two)
bars; development sections are generally longer, and as such we look for a model of four to eight
bars to identify a core.56 Of course, Caplin’s proportions are rooted in music of the Classical style. In
Schubert’s sonata forms, larger proportions problematize the distinction between model-sequence in
a continuation phrase and the same technique as manifest in a developmental core. Context is
crucial: while I agree with Hyland that in D. 887/i these passages stand out as developmental
episodes, in other sonata forms analyzed later in this dissertation (e.g., D. 958/i) processes of formal
loosening occurring on a similar scale function as continuational. Regardless of our nomenclature, it
is the resulting effect of these passages in Schubert’s sonata forms that is most important: in
interrupting the otherwise continuous flow of an embedded variation set they transport the listener,
both aesthetically and temporally, from the realm of variation back to sonata form. Schubert’s use of
variation techniques in sonata forms inverts expectations; they frame normative (or for some,
required) formal processes, such as development, as intrusive within the environment of variation.
52 Hyland takes her cue from Dahlhaus, who identifies the passage as a “developmental extension.” Dahlhaus, “Sonata
Form in Schubert,” 2. Throughout her prose, Hyland refers to these episodes variously, as “sequential episodes,”
“episodic elaborations,” and “developmental episodes.” However, she labels them as Bdev in Example 9. Hyland, “In
Search of Liberated Time,” 96–7.
53 In the abstract the notion of development as a formal function is not problematic. However, I caution against
constructing a definition of development that is too narrow.

54 For Hyland these passages stand out for their modulatory function, “preparing the key of the next variation through
its mediant,” along with their “rhythmic vigor and activity … loud dynamic, motivic fragmentation and ending with half
cadences.” Ibid., 97–8.
55 Note that Caplin distinguishes processes internal to a development section—Core technique—from the interthematic
function of development. In so doing, he is able to refrain from directly correlating compositional techniques with
development. For more on the theorization of formal functions in development sections, see Caplin, Classical Form, 141–
7.
56 Ibid., 142.
102
D. 944/i, Introduction
Following the premiere of Schubert’s C Major Symphony, D. 944, in Leipzig (1839), Robert
Schumann praised the work for its “heavenly length.” 57 The once complimentary phrase has since
been marshaled by critics in negatively shaping perceptions of Schubert’s instrumental music as
repetitive and, as a result, overly-long. Thus, while the length of D. 944 is widely acknowledged,
detailed accounts of its construction (especially those that foreground the role of variation) are
rare.58 While many have noted the introduction’s structure as a variation set, the idiomatic variation
techniques employed and the influence of variation on form-functional analysis have remained
understudied.59 My analysis thus highlights the elements of variation that evoke so strongly the
presence of variation form.
The introduction of D. 944/i can be read as an expanded version of that most Schubertian
of theme types, the small ternary (see Figure 3.2).60 The A section proper spans mm. 1–37; the B
section, mm. 38–61, ends with a PAC elided with the return of the theme in m. 61; and the reprise
spans mm. 61–77. In outlining the construction of the introduction’s small ternary form one soon
notices the sheer size of this small ternary: seventy-seven bars. Further examination reveals a nesting
of formal units employed to structure this expansive introduction: the A section itself is a small
ternary, thus creating a “double ternary” or ABABA form, yet another “Schubertian speciality.”61 An
alternative perspective, based on the privileging of variation elements, reveals a theme-and-variation
set exemplifying tight-knit variation construction. Each restatement retains both the structure of the
theme and close melodic parallelism (cf., the subordinate theme in D. 887/i). Moreover, each
restatement is typically a closed thematic unit in and of itself.
57 Robert Schumann, “Die 7te Symphonie von Franz Schubert,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, 12, no. 21 (10 March 1840).
For a thorough discussion of the reception history of D. 944 and the ramifications of Schumann’s observations on the
reception of Schubert’s instrumental works, see Anne Hyland, “[Un]Himmlische Länge: Editorial Intervention as
Reception History,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History, Theory, Style. ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton
(Cambridge University Press, 2016).
58 See, for example, A. Peter Brown, The First Golden Age of the Viennese Symphony: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert, 4
vols., vol. 2 of The Symphonic Repertoire (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 2002) and Brian Newbould,
“Greatness Accomplished: The Ninth Symphony,” in Schubert and the Symphony: A New Perspective (London: Toccata Press,
1992). Both authors discuss the symphony as a whole in their respective surveys of symphonic literature; Brown
highlights elements of cyclic construction, as does Newbould (who also discusses processes of expansion in conjunction
with the notion of “heavenly length”).
59 Brown identifies an entire sonata form as the underlying organizational scheme of the variations in The First Golden Age
of the Viennese Symphony, 632. Susan Wollenberg also notes the variations within the introduction but does not give a
detailed breakdown of their organization in Schubert’s Fingerprints, 279.
60 While the use of small ternary is common in Schubert’s oeuvre, the use of such a closed, well-rounded theme type is
rather unusual for a slow introduction. To avoid completely closing off the introduction, it ends with a dominant arrival
rather than a PAC. For more on Schubert’s extensive use of small ternary form, see James Webster, “Schubert’s Sonata
Form and Brahms’s First Maturity (I),” 19th-Century Music 2, no. 1 (1978).
61 Su Yin Mak credits Charles Fisk with this phrase, noting the ubiquity of this structure in the composer’s late
instrumental works in “Formal ambiguity and generic reinterpretation,” 289.

103
Figure 3.2: Form Diagram, D. 944/i Introduction (mm. 1–77)
A B A′
(mm. 1–37) (mm. 38–61) (mm. 61–77)
Variation 3
A B A′
(mm. 1–16) (mm. 17–28) (mm. 29–37)
Theme & Variation 2
Variation 1
The variation theme is played by two horns in unison in mm. 1–8, followed by the first
variation in mm. 9–16; from the form-functional perspective, variation 1 would be interpreted as a
written-out repeat of the A section in the nested small ternary. In variation 1 the theme is
reorchestrated (sounding in the woodwinds), joined by a countermelody, and provided
accompanimental support by the strings. Both the unaccompanied theme (Ex. 3.11) and the
accompanied first variation (Ex. 3.12) are form-functionally complex at the intrathematic level; the
theme, lacking any harmonic context, is especially ambiguous.
Example 3.11: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Theme (mm. 1–8)
Introduction
[A] = theme
œ œ œ™ œ ˙ œ™ œ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ™ œ ˙ œ™ œ ˙ ˙™ œ w
&C ˙ J J
> J > J
Horns in C
> > > > pp
p
Example 3.12 demonstrates three possible ways of parsing the eight-bar phrase in variation
1, with special attention paid to ambiguity regarding the formal function of bars three and six.62 (1)
We can understand measures 11 and 14 as extending the basic ideas through varied repetitions of its
second half, resulting in a presentation (extended) + cadential phrase structure. (2) We could analyze
the same measures as interpolations that obscure an underlying presentation + cadential phrase
62 Newbould interprets the grouping structure as 3 + 5, the five-measure group being an expanded repetition of the first
3-bar group: “When he follows his first two-bar statement not with a two-bar response but with a rhythmic echo of the
second bar, he appears to be doing what in many of his themes would … create a five-bar phrase. But in the ‘Great’ the
response reproduces all three bars … and to complete the theme, the sixth bar is repeated in augmentation—that is, with
the note-lengths doubled.” Newbould, Schubert and the Symphony, 217.
104
structure. (3) Or, we can interpret them as compressed contrasting ideas in which the first of two
bars is omitted—one could reconstruct a ci by inserting a new m. 11 (with contrasting melodic
material) and displacing m. 11 to m. 12. The result of such a recomposition (Ex. 3.13) would be a
period: a four-bar antecedent, ending with an IAC, followed by a four-bar consequent ending with a
PAC (recomposing the bass line), and finally a two-bar codetta.63 Given that the theme is repeated
two more times, further exploration of variations—and their treatment of thematic restatement with
regards to the measures in question—will serve to clarify intrathematic functions within the theme.
Example 3.12: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 9–16)
Introduction, variation 1 (with countermelody, accompaniment, and harmonized)
interpolation?
bi or, compressed ci? bi
{
or
bi (extended) bi (ext., repeated)
>
œ™
> >
9
œ j j ˙ œ
& C ˙˙ œ
œ œ œ™
œ œ œ œ̇ ™ œJ
œ œ œ œ̇ œ œ œ™ œ œ˙
J
> > >
.
p
. . . . . œ œ œ
œ Œ œ Œ œ œ œ Œ
pizz.
œ œ Ó œ œ œ œ œ œ
?C œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ Œ œ œ ‰ œJ
. œ .
. . . . . .
D=: kk L& K
IAC ?
interpolation?
or, compressed ci?
{
cad (= m. 14 melody augmented and reharmonized)
>
œ™ ˙œ ™
13> j œj ˙ œ
& œ™ œ œ œ̇ ™ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ w
œ œJ
> > pp
œ Œ Œ Œ œ Œ œ œ œ
? œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ Œ œ œ Œ Œ œ Œ Œ
œ
Le & K lk kk^ L K
PAC
63One might argue that the IAC in mm. 11 prohibits interpretation 1 (an extended basic idea and its repetition);
however, we can consider this cadence to be of limited scope as the parallel measure, m. 14 is (similarly) non-cadential—
the dominant appears first in inversion.
105
Example 3.13: D. 944/i, Introduction as Variations, Recomposition of the Theme
Theme (recomposed) = period
{
œ œ œ™ œ ˙
bi ci bi ci
œ œ œ™ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ™ œ ˙
&C ˙ J J œ™ œ ˙
J J
?C œ Œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ Œ
D=: kk L& K K kk^ L K
IAC PAC
Variation 2, the A′ section in the nested small ternary (mm. 29–37), illustrates the impact of
variation on form-functional analysis. Shown below in Example 3.14, this variation employs part
division, distributing thematic material across multiple voices. Such alterations to the melodic line
within the variation aid in parsing intrathematic formal functions: mm. 29–30 sound in the strings
and low brass, m. 31 in the woodwinds. The pattern of 2 + 1 measures is replicated for the
instrumentation of mm. 32–34, reinforcing a hearing of m. 31 and m. 34 as separate units—either
interpolations or compressed contrasting ideas—as opposed to grouping as three-bar basic ideas.
{
Introduction
A′ (nested) = Variation 2 (part division)
œœ ™™
>
woodwinds
œj ˙˙
29
&C ∑ ∑ œœ ™
œ ™™
œœœ ˙˙˙
œJ
>œ ™
œ œ >p
˙ œ ˙
strings + trmbs.
?C ˙ œ œ ˙ ∑
œ™ œ
J
ff
Shown in Example 3.15 are the opening bars of the third and final variation, which closes
the slow introduction and initiates a transition into the movement’s allegro (mm. 61–77). This
variation employs gradatio: rhythmic diminution in the accompaniment reduces note values from
eighths to triplets.64 Of note is the return of the melody to a single voice and a consistent bass line.
The third bar no longer functions solely as a rhythmic/melodic echo (like in variation 2); rather, the
64The use of a technique so indicative of variation form promotes a hearing of this passage in dialogue with variation
form.
106
harmonic progression in bar three is cadential, referencing variation 1, and thus suggesting phrase
compression. Ultimately, each variation emphasizes a potential grouping structure latent in the
theme.
Introduction
A′ = Variation 3 (gradatio )
ant (compressed)
bi ci (compressed)
œ™
ob. + cl. + bsn.
œ œ j j
& C ˙˙ œ œ œ™ œ œ œ̇ ™ œ œ œ œ̇ œ œ
œ œJ
p
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
vlns. 1 & 2 3
œ
3
{ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ #œ œ
C œ œ
3 3 3 3
pp œ 3 3 3 3 3
3
vla. + vcl. + cb.

?C œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ
p
D=: lkkO& L& K
IAC
Throughout the introduction, the use of variation techniques to alter repetitions and returns of
thematic material is suggestive of variation form. Moreover, privileging elements of variation—
analyzing points of thematic restatement—clarifies the form-functional interpretation. That is,
identifying varied statements of thematic material and aligning them with familiar formal functions
reveals the large-scale and nested small ternary structures in the introduction. As Brown notes, the
“massive” introduction “demands a structure beyond that of a classical introduction.”65 Indeed, the
idiomatic use of variation helps structure a large-scale unit of Schubertian proportions.
In D. 887/i and D. 944/i, tight-knit variations are brought about through varied
restatements of thematic material. Each restatement retains both the structure of the theme and
close melodic parallelism. Moreover, each restatement is a closed thematic unit in and of itself.
These factors are indicative of tight-knit variation procedures.
65 Brown, The First Golden Age of the Viennese Symphony, 632.

107
D. 956/i
In this section I address processes of loose variation; the resulting varied repetitions cease to retain a
direct correspondence with the theme due to the nature of alterations to thematic material. My
examples demonstrate the combination of tight-knit and loose variation procedures, and the
different interpretive possibilities that arise from loose variation construction (as opposed to purely
tight-knit variations). My first example comes from the subordinate theme complex of D. 965/i. A
comprehensive form-functional analysis of this piece, published by Nathan Martin and Steven
Vande Moortele, considers in great detail moments of retrospective reinterpretation throughout the
exposition, and nuances Janet Schmalfeldt’s theorization of processes of becoming. 66 Many
functionally-reinterpreted passages also partake of ongoing processes of variation: these passages
comprise varied repetitions of previous thematic statements and, due to both the location of the
repetition and nature of variation techniques applied, undergo a change in formal function. For
example, the repetition of main theme material beginning in m. 33 is both a variation and a
dissolving restatement (as in reprise ⇒ transition). It is through a combination of the two
perspectives, variation and form-functional, that the variation technique of repurposing material is
revealed.
In the subordinate theme complex, variation plays a prominent role as a means of both
organizing and deriving thematic material. My analysis focuses on the variations comprising this
section of the exposition (mm. 60–138) and highlights different form-functional (re)interpretations
that emerge as the variation process progresses. The subordinate theme differs from D. 887/i in that
the variation perspective is complemented by a form-functional interpretation: not only can we
understand the subordinate theme as an embedded variation set, but we can also derive a large-scale
sentential design underlying the expanded subordinate theme complex. What is more, these
variations incorporate both tight-knit and loose variation procedures. Figure 3.3 summarizes the
distribution of subordinate theme variations in the exposition and recapitulation of D. 956/i.
66 Nathan Martin and Steven Vande Moortele, “Formal Functions and Retrospective Reinterpretation in the First
Movement of Schubert’s String Quintet,” Music Analysis 33, no. 2 (2014). For more on becoming as a formal process, see
Janet Schmalfeldt, In the Process of Becoming: Analytical and Philosophical Perspectives on Form in Early Nineteenth-Century Music
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
108
Exposition
Measure 1–10 11–20 21–32 33–39 40–59 60–80 81–100 100–138 138–154
ST theme v. 1 v. 2

155–266 267–276 277–286 287–294 295–301 302–321 322–342 343–362 362–400 400–445
v. 3 v. 4 v. 5

The theme (mm. 60–80) is a twenty-bar modulating period: it begins in E-flat major and
modulates to G major. Within this twenty-bar unit three phrases are initiated by variants of a
recurring basic idea: the first begins an antecedent phrase; the second begins a failed consequent; the
third begins a new (complete) consequent phrase. 67 The antecedent phrase appears below in
Example 3.16. The two grouping structures proposed in the example will be discussed in further
detail in conjunction with variation 2, as alterations in cadential articulation and the bass line invite,
retrospectively, a new hearing of the theme’s internal grouping structure.
Example 3.16: D. 956/i, Variation Theme, Antecedent Phrase (mm. 60–65)
Subordinate Theme = sentential

Theme = period
antecedent
bi (expanded) ci
bi ci
°
. b œ. œ. œ. .
60
œ. œ. b œ œ. œ. b œ . . . œ. œ. œ. œ. .
œ. œ. œJ ‰ Œ
Violin II & Œ bœ œ œ ‰ Œ Œ œ œ bœ ‰ Œ Œ bœ œ œ ‰ Œ Œ bœ œ œJ ‰ Œ Œ J ‰ J ‰ Œ
Violin J J J
. œ. œ. . œ. œ. . œ. œ.
pp
b œ b œ b œ j j j
II & Œ J ‰ Œ Œ J ‰ Œ Œ J ‰ Œ Œ œ. œ. œ. ‰ Œ Œ nœ œ œ ‰ bœœ ‰ Œ œ œ œ ‰ Œ
Violin
Violin II
J œ. œ. œ. . œ. œ. œ.
pp
pizz.
Viola B Œ Œ Œ Œ Œ Œ bœ Œ Œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ Œ Œ œ
Viola bœ œ bœ œbœ œ
˙™ >˙
pp
œ œ bœ œ œ œ bœ œ ˙ œ œ bœ œ
œ nœ œ œ bœ œ ˙ w
Violoncello 1 B
Violoncello
B b˙ ™ œ œ b˙ ™ ™
pp dim.
œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ >œ œ
Violoncello 2¢
Violoncello œ bœ œ œ œ J ˙™ w
pp dim.
Gx=: K (ped) {KL} K KL kk kk^ KKK

L;LK
HC
Variation 1 comprises mm. 81–100. The material is re-instrumented, thus varying the overall
timbre: the melody first played by the celli is given to violins 1 and 2; the second cello provides the
functional bass (previously held by the viola). Moreover, gradatio is used to vary the accompaniment,
increasing the durations from eighth notes to triplets. While this variation retains the period
67The significance of the formal function of each phrase initiated by the basic idea will be discussed in the context of
variation 2.
109
structure and modulatory trajectory, an alteration in cadential articulation occurs between the theme
and variation 1: the theme ends with a non-elided PAC in m. 79, while variation 1 ends with a PAC
in m. 100 that is elided with the onset of variation 2.68
Variation 2 exemplifies loose variation construction, and thus relates quite differently to the
theme than variation 1. While the first measure (m. 100) retains a rhythmic parallelism with the
theme, any direct melodic correspondences quickly disappear. The melody is reimagined as an
(almost) strict canon between violin 1 and viola (refer back to Ex. 3.2). The gradatio initiated in
variation 1 continues into the second variation, with durations quickening from triplets to sixteenths.
Along with these surface alterations come several structural changes, complicating form-functional
analysis. While the harmony of variation 2 initially corresponds with that of the theme (cf. mm. 60–
62 and 100–103), the tonic pedal is extended for two bars (totaling five measures in variation 2).
Cadential articulation is delayed from the downbeat of the fifth measure to the downbeat of the
seventh measure (cf. mm. 105–6 in Ex. 3.17 with mm. 64–65 in Ex. 3.16). Measures 105–6 thus
form a two-bar continuation phrase, whereas, in the theme, the cadential progression begins in m.
63, ends in m. 64, and is prolonged in m. 65. Alterations to the bass line promote a hearing in which
mm. 100–106 contain three two-bar units (with the third extended by an extra beat). While this
grouping is not as evident upon first hearing the theme, after variation 2 it is possible in retrospect
to hear groups of two in mm. 60–63. Variation, in this case a varied repetition, initiates processes of
retrospective reinterpretation: variation 2 realizes a latent grouping structure in the theme.
Based on these structural changes, Martin and Vande Moortele reduce the length of basic
and contrasting ideas in variation 2 from their expanded 2+ measure form to 2-bar units, and
analyze three distinct formal functions in mm. 100–106: basic idea, contrasting idea, and
continuation.69 I posit a slightly different reading indebted to surface features—that is, melodic
similarities with the theme—in which mm. 100–102 comprise an expanded basic idea, mm. 102–4 an
expanded contrasting idea, and mm. 104–6 a continuation ending with an elided half cadence. I thus
retain a grouping structure more akin to Martin and Vande Moortele’s analysis of the theme.
68 I address this point in greater detail later in my analysis.

69 Martin and Vande Moortele, 143.
110
Example 3.17: D. 956/i, Formal Functions in Variation 2 (mm. 100–113)
Subordinate Theme, large-scale continuation

Variation 3 = compound sentence
presentation
bi ci cont
bi (expanded) ci (expanded) cont
œ
°
œ œ œ ˙™ œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ œ
#œ œ #œ
100
œ œ
Violin II & c
Violin
œ.
p
nœ œ œ #œ .
fp
. .
&c R œ. œ œ. œ œ. œ. œ. œ œ. œ. œ. œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
Violin
Violin II
II
. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
˙™
˙™
fp
œ
pp
stacc. sempre
œ œ œ
œ œ ‰ œœ #œ œ œ #œ
Viola B c Œ œ œ œ ‰ Œ Ó ∑
3
Viola J J
pp
B c œ bœ œ œ œ ‰ >˙
>
œ œ œ œ œJ. ‰ ˙ #œ œ œ œ œJ. > >
œ œ œ œ œJ. ‰ ˙ #œ œ œ œ œJ. >
Violoncello
Violoncello1
J ‰ ˙ ‰ ˙ ?
œœœœ
fp pp
?c œ Œ
Violoncello
Violoncello2
¢ Œ œœ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ
fz pp
= mm. 100–106
˙ #œ œ #œ
° #œ #œ #œ
œ #œ ˙ œ
˙ œ œ
105
œ #˙
&
œ
decresc.
& ≈ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œj ‰ œ œ #œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ #œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
#œ #œ œ œ #œ
œ
decresc.
œ #œ œ #œ ˙ œ œ #œ ˙ œ ˙ #œ #œ
B œ œ #œ
decresc.
œ #œ >˙
> >
? j
œ. ‰ J ‰ #œ #œ œ œ œj ‰ B#˙ œ nœ œ œ œ. ‰ œ œ œ œ œ. ‰ #˙ œœœœ
. J J
decresc.
?
¢ œ Œ #œ Œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ
decresc.
J=: Le ; KKK
HC
(elided)
large-scale continuation (expanded)
2 bi (varied)
œ
° #œ ˙ #œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ #œ œ œ œ
œ œ #œ #œ
109
œ
&
decresc. cresc.
œ
& œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ #œ nœ œ
œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
#œ œ #œ
cresc.
#œ ˙ ˙ œ œ #œ n˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
B ˙ œ œ nœ
>˙
decresc.
#œ œ œ œ œJ. #œ œ œ œ
cresc.
nœ >
B œ. ‰ œ œ œ œ œ. ‰ #œ J ‰ œ œ œ œ œj ‰ ˙ ‰ ˙ œ œ œ œ œJ. ‰ ˙
J J decresc.
. >
cresc.
? œ
¢ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ œ Œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ
decresc. cresc.
As the variation progresses structural alterations continue. Measures 106–112 are a varied
repetition of mm. 100–106, transposed to III. As a result, mm. 100–112 can be read as a large-scale
presentation (as opposed to the periodic structure of these measures in the theme) in which mm.
100–106 form the large-scale basic idea and mm. 106–112 its repetition. Indeed, Martin and Vande
Moortele similarly note the new, sentential structure in their analysis of variation 2, reading mm.
111
100–112 as large-scale presentation with a large-scale continuation beginning in m. 113.70 I propose
an alternative: given its correlation to m. 100, I locate the beginning of the continuation phrase in m.
112: the elided IAC mirrors the elided half cadence in m. 106. Example 3.17 provides a functional
analysis of mm. 100–112, including two potential grouping structures, and illustrates embedded
variation in the third statement (compare violin 1 in m. 112 with m. 100, boxed).
Variation 2 is structured as an expanded compound sentence; proportionally, the processes
of formal loosening present in variation 2 such as model-sequence technique, fragmentation, and
extension via cadential evasion, suggest continuation function operating on an even larger scale.
That is, in relation to the tight-knit variation construction of the theme and variation 1, the loose
variation construction in variation 2 (including processes associated with continuation function) can
be read as a large-scale continuation. This, in turn, initiates a reinterpretation of the entire seventy-
eight measure theme complex as a large-scale sentential design created through varied repetitions of
the theme: mm. 60–100, the theme and variation 1, form a large-scale presentation (elision of the
PAC in m. 100 thus serves to downplay cadential articulation between the end of the large-scale
presentation phrase and subsequent beginning of the large-scale continuation), and mm. 100–138
comprise the large-scale continuation.71 From this we can abstract a formal template: two tight-knit
sections followed by an expanded section exhibiting loose tonal and phrase-structural construction,
taken together, form a sentential design. What is more, this occurs on a lower level in mm. 100–138.
The recursive use of sentential designs in D. 956/i reinforces the larger-scale functional
reinterpretation of the entire complex.
In D. 956/i, placing my analysis of variation in dialogue with formal functions revealed the
use of a large-scale sentential design to organize varied repetitions of thematic material. The
following analyses demonstrate other theme complexes that use this formal template, suggesting that
it is an idiomatic means of expanding the proportions of formal units in Schubert’s sonata forms.
D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme Complex

The subordinate theme in D. 944/i employs techniques similar to those seen in the introduction, but
the evocation of variation form is less explicit due to processes of loose variation. From the
perspective of variation, the relationships between varied repetitions of thematic material can be
understood as a series of variations. From the form-functional perspective, we find the large-scale
70 Ibid., 138, 143–46.

71 On this scale the elision between large-scale consequent and large-scale continuation in m. 100 makes more sense, as
we do not expect clear cadential articulation at the end of a presentation phrase. The resulting large-scale sentential
structure resembles a “large-scale sentence with periodic presentation.” Vande Moortele coins this term to describe a
recurring formal unit in Schmalfeldt’s analyses in In the Process of Becoming. See Steven Vande Moortele, “In Search of
Romantic Form.”
112
sentential template, tight-knit + tight-knit + loose, similarly employed in D. 944/i to organize
processes of variation in the subordinate theme as an expanded large-scale formal unit.72
Before delving further into the construction of the subordinate theme complex, it is worth
highlighting similarities in its construction with D. 956/i: both have non-modulating transitions and
both start in a non-traditional subordinate key before moving to the dominant for a final variation
(bIII in D. 956/i, iii in D. 944/i; or bVI and vi, respectively, in relation to the impending dominant).
Thus, elements of both subordinate theme function (balanced statements of theme-like units) and
transition function (destabilizing tonic, modulation) appear at the outset of both subordinate theme
complexes. Moreover, both employ cadential elision as a loosening device, blurring internal
boundaries between varied restatements of thematic material. For example, the PAC in m. 174 is
elided, and further undermined by the division of instrumental choirs. In D. 944/i and D. 956/i,
varied thematic repetitions are organized as expanded, sententially-organized subordinate theme
complexes.
Example 3.18 contains the theme and opening bars of the first variation in D. 944/i. The
theme, in E minor, is a hybrid (cbi + continuation) that ends with a half cadence in m. 140 and two
bars of standing on the dominant. Attending to variation techniques aids in the parsing of formal
functions, specifically, in identifying the functional change in m. 138. In this bar, fragmentation
ensues when a varied repetition of the ci (mm. 136–37) is set imitatively—between winds and bass
voices—condensing a two-bar idea into one measure, and thus conveying the onset of continuation
function that becomes cadential in m. 139.
72 I use expansion (or expanded) in a general sense to refer to large-scale formal units (e.g., subordinate theme complex)
that employ techniques of extension and expansion (in the Caplinian sense) as loosening devices. In Schubert’s idiom
one of the most common strategies for expanding a subordinate theme complex is through weakened cadential
articulation; specifically, the use of cadential elision operates as a loosening device in this regard, as it is frequently
employed to weaken the rhetorical strength of cadences.
113
Example 3.18: D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations (mm. 134–43)
Subordinate Theme (as variations)
{
Theme = hybrid (cbi + continuation)
cbi continuation
bi ci
134
> > œ #œœ œœ ˙˙
œœ œœ œœ ˙˙ œœ œœ œœ ˙˙
ob. + bsn.
& C œœ. œœ œœ #œœ. œœ œœ œœ œœ œ

>
p
. . >. . . .
3 3 3
œœ œ œœ œ œœœœ œœœœ œœ œ
?C œ œ œ
œ œ œ œ
œ Œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ Œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ Œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ Œ œ œ œ œJ ‰ Œ œ #œ#œ œ œœ
3
G-:
{
Hybrid repeated (variation 1)
>. fl. + cl.

œ™ m >œ. .
œ œ œ œ #œ œ™ j m j œœ œœ. œœ. #œœ. œ œœ. œœ. œœ
œ #œœœ #œœœ
139
& œ œ œ™ œ œ œ ‰ #˙˙ œ œ™
˙˙˙ œœ
J J #˙ œ œ
.
fp p
œ #œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ
? œœœ #œ œ œ œ œœœœ œœœœœœœœ
œ œ œ œ œœœ œ Œ œ œJ ‰ Œ œ œ œ #œ œ ‰ Œ J ‰ Œ
. . . . J
k^ L
HC
The first variation (mm. 142–49) is tight-knit in its construction, repeating the hybrid theme
with variations in timbre (the melody moves from oboe and bassoon to flute and clarinet) and
register (up an octave). In the second variation (mm. 150–73), the relationship between theme and
ostensible variation is loosened: the variation begins with the basic idea but subsequent material is
significantly altered. What follows is a loose variation (in contrast to variation 1, which presents an
example of tight-knit variation procedures). Example 3.19 contains the first seven measures of
variation 2.
114
Example 3.19: D. 944/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation 2 (mm. 150–56)
Subordinate Theme 1
Variation 2 (⇒ transition?) = sentential
truncated
Subordinate cbi?
Subordinate or, (variation
Theme
Theme (variation
(variation 32 ⇒ transition!)
2 ⇒ transition!)
truncated presentation? continuation (new)
{
presentationor(monofold!)
antecedent? bi + continuation? continuation
continuation
bi new ci ⇒new
bi (repeated) model
ci
œœ œœ. . œœ. œœ.
#œœ
150 fl. + cl.
ob. + bsn.
& C œœ. œœ œœ #œœ. œœ œœ œœ

> . . >. . .
vl. 1
œ œ œ œ œ œ
? C œ˙ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ
œ œ
œ œ œ œ #œ œ
vl. 1 vl. 2
œ ˙ œ
Ó Ó Œ Œ
{
. .
G-: i (ped) J=:L/KKK
L
ci (repeated, sequence)
œœ.
sequence!
bi (repeated) new presentation
n˙˙˙˙ ™™™
standing on the dominant ⇒ cadential
œœ. œœ. >. œœ. #>œœ. œœ.
œœ. ##œœ œœ. œœ. ˙ ™™
153
##œœ. œœ.
ob. + bsn. tutti
&
. .
f
vl. 2 vl. 1 fz
œ œ œ œ #œ #œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? ˙ œ œ œ œ œ #˙ #œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙™
Œ Œ ˙ Œ œ œ œ œ
. . . . .
K S-: L k
KKK ?
IAC L/L L L&
L&/ LK
LK: HC ?
In this example of loose variation construction, form-functional loosening is also present.73
To begin, this variation alters the theme type: it is structured sententially rather than as a hybrid. The
first phrase is compressed, leaving only the basic idea (mm. 150–51). In contrast to such
compression, a new continuation phrase (mm. 152–74) is expanded through the nesting of formal
units. Specifically, by embedding a new, modulating sentential phrase within the continuation phrase
itself. The nested sentential phrase comprises mm. 156–67, and modulates to the subordinate key: a
presentation in mm. 156–59 is followed by a continuation (beginning with fragmentation in mm.
160–61). Model-sequence technique in mm. 162–65 extends the continuation, delaying the onset of
cadential function to m. 166–67; and cadential articulation is evaded in m. 168. As such, a second
attempt at achieving cadential closure occurs in mm. 168–74 (a varied repetition of mm. 162–67),
leading to a V: PAC elided with the return of the basic idea (see Ex. 3.20, below).
Loosening devices present in variation 2 (the truncated presentation[?] phrase, expansion
within the continuation and cadential phrases, and modulation) initiate processes of retrospective
reinterpretation in order to derive coherence from concatenated thematic repetitions. A familiar
pattern arises looking back to the theme (mm. 134–42) and first variation (mm. 143–49): tight-knit +
73Processes of formal loosening are associated with subordinate theme function—that is, we expect the subordinate
theme to be loose in comparison to the main theme. For more on subordinate theme function and its interthematic
function (with regards to the main theme), see Caplin, Classical Form, 97–124.
115
tight-knit. This is followed by an expanded section of loose material in mm. 150–76. Again, we find
a tight-knit unit and its repetition (theme and variation 1) together acting as a large-scale
presentation, while the loose construction of variation 2 functions as a large-scale continuation in
relation to the preceding presentation. From the form-functional perspective, a sentential design
emerges from the variations in mm. 134–74 of the subordinate theme complex.
Subordinate Theme 12
Closing section ⇒ Variation 3 = sentential
Subordinate Theme (Closing section⇒variation 3 = compound sentence!)
large-scale presentation
presentation presentation (repeated)
presentation presentation (repeated)
{
>.
bi bi (repeated) bi
.fl. + cl.. . >. > tutti >
œœ œ œ ## œœ œœ. œ. œ. œœ œœ œ fl. + ob. œ œœ œœ. œ. œ. ##>œœ. œœ. œ. œ. œœ
winds
˙˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œœ
#˙ œœ œœœ Œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ
173
& C œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ Œ Ó œ
> #œ. œœ. œœ. >
strings
p
. .
ob. + bsn.
. . . . cl. + bsn.
?C œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ
œ œ œ œ œ . œ. . œ . œ. . œ . œ œ œ œ. . œ . œ. . œ .
J=:
{
PAC
and evaded? continuation
large-scale continuation ⇒cad.
n ˙˙˙ ™™™
bi (repeated) bi⇒model sequence
fl. +. cl. >
. .
˙ ™
fl. + cl. >
œœ. œœ. œ. œ. ## œœ # œœ œœ. œœ. # œœ
tutti
œ
tutti
#œœœ œœ >œ. œ œ œ. >.
œœ. ##œœ ##œœ. œœ. ˙™
180
œ
& #œ. œœ œœ œœ Œ Œ œ #œœ œœ œ
. . > . . ˙™
ob. + bsn. ob. + bsn. f
˙˙ ™™
vl. 2 vl. 1 vl. 2 vl. 1 fz
. . vl. 1 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? œ œ œ œ œ. œ œœ œ œ j ‰ œ ˙ œ#œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ #˙ #œ œ œ
œ. . œ . œ œ Œ Œ Œ Œ ˙ Œ œ œ œ
. . . .
mm. 182–9 = mm. 152–9
A fourth statement of thematic material—variation 3, or, a second subordinate theme—

begins immediately in m. 174. Initially a listener may assume this to be a closing section, due in large
part to the major-mode repetition of thematic material (m. 174 = m. 150) following an elided
subordinate-key PAC.74 However, this is not the case. As variation 3 continues, in form-function
terms we reinterpret the codetta as subordinate theme two, which ends in m. 240 with a V: PAC.
Example 3.20 illustrates the cadential situation at the end of the second variation and provides a
form-functional analysis of the first thirteen bars of variation 3.
Variation 3 is structured as an expanded compound sentence: the presentation phrase in
mm. 174–77 is repeated in mm. 178–81, followed by an expanded continuation comprising mm.
74 In terms of sonata theory this moment would initially be described as “S-Aftermath,” a reference to S following the
EEC. For more on this, see James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations
in the Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 182.
116
182–240. Variation 3 explicitly references variation 2, as both continuation phrases begin with the
same material: mm. 152–58 = mm. 182–88. The addition of a third repetition of mm. 186–87 in
mm. 189–90 is accompanied by a shift to the submediant in m. 190ff.75 Following the prolongation
of bVI (mm. 156–61= mm. 190–95, now transposed) any correspondence between variations 2 and
3 ends. Beginning in m. 199, until the end of subordinate theme two, material from the introduction
(specifically, m. 3) is repeated, fragmented, and sequenced, further extending the continuation phrase
before arriving on the cadential dominant in m. 228. What is more, the cadential idea itself comes
from the introduction: it is an augmented version of mm. 59–71. The exposition ends with a closing
section (mm. 241–53).
Intrinsic functions are altered again in variation 3, yet there remain points of correspondence
between variations 2 and 3. That is, in addition to functioning as a variation of the original theme,
variation 3 can be understood (more directly) as a local variant of variation 2. Compare the
treatment of the basic idea between variations 2 and 3: strictly speaking, the same material is
transposed to G in variation 3 (mm. 150–51 = 174–75). Yet in the later variation the basic idea
receives more emphasis: it is repeated, forming a complete presentation phrase, and the four-bar
presentation is itself repeated. The continuation phrase in variation 3 restates the continuation
phrase from variation 2 verbatim (m. 182–89 = m. 152–59). Moreover, the correspondence between
continuation phrases is even stronger than the relation between statements of the basic idea: the
restatement beginning in m. 182 is literal, not transposed! In this instance variation is created
through recontextualization of thematic material. Our perception of mm. 182–89 is altered, not
because the material itself is different, but by a new surrounding context: its function within
subordinate theme two, the key change, and subsequent transposition of preceding material to G
major.
Despite the wealth of shared material between variations 2 and 3, each restatement
constitutes (and comprises) different intrathematic functions: variation 2 is a large-scale continuation
(phrase), while variation 3 constitutes an entire expanded theme type (sentence). Moreover, these
variations span the entire subordinate theme complex, masking the underlying presence of distinct
subordinate theme groups. Attending to elements of variation illuminates this relationship.
75Also of note is the use of pitch reharmonization, a variation technique that alters pitch repetition through
reharmonization: on the downbeat of m. 190 the upper-voice G is reharmonized as ^3 in E-flat major (bVI in relation to
G major).
117
D. 810/i
The subordinate theme complex in Schubert’s D Minor String Quartet, D. 810/i, like D. 956/i and
D. 944/i, both comprises a series of loose variations and uses large-scale sentential construction to
organize a portion of the over-arching complex.76 Due to the use of embedded variation and a
distinct lack of cadential articulation in subordinate theme space, the subordinate theme complex in
D. 810/i (mm. 52–134) is highly unconventional. While it begins as a period, the first attempt at a
tight-knit subordinate theme (mm. 52–60) is quickly derailed after eight measures by an apparent
medial caesura in m. 60, interrupting the cadential articulation of what would be subordinate theme
1.77 The expansive passage that follows—over seventy measures in total (mm. 61–134)—is almost
entirely derived through processes of variation. Take, for example, mm. 61–82, the large-scale
presentation: varied repetitions of a five-bar cbi concatenate, creating a twenty-two-measure group.78
It is striking that this entire section remains open-ended (save an elided III: PAC in m. 83).79 Because
the entire twenty-two-measure group is derived through four varied statements of an open-ended
phrase, the duration of the variation theme itself is unclear. Is it five, ten, or twenty-two bars? I
analyze the theme as a ten-bar unit, mm. 61–70, due to the harmonic treatment of its restatement
beginning in m. 71 (variation 1), though the other possibilities have their merits. I thus understand
alterations of the cbi within each thematic statement (first tonic, then dominant) as instances of
embedded variation.
Considering the sentential elements of this section in further detail exemplifies the benefits
of a bottom-up analytical approach. I rely primarily on recognizable two- and four- bar functions
(basic and contrasting ideas at the two-bar level, cbi at the five-bar level) because mm. 61–82 lack
discernible eight-bar theme types. Rather, the structure replicates that of a compound sentence with
doubled proportions. Example 3.21 provides a form-functional and variational analysis of the first
seven bars of the theme (cbi + the beginning of its first repetition). I highlight instances of nested
76 Previous analyses of the work have focused on motivic connections, either within the first movement or the piece as a
whole. Susan Wollenberg, inspired by the variation movement and the quartet’s allusion to Schubert’s Lied, focuses on
“death motives” connecting all four movements of the quartet Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints, 228–35. Brian Black
investigates coherence in the first movement through exploring harmonic motives that function as referential,
modulatory, or gestural. Brian Black, “The Functions of Harmonic Motives in Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” Intégral 23
(2009). Graham Hunt offers a Formenlehre-style analysis, interpreting this movement as a three-key trimodular block;
however, he does not interrogate the movement’s formal functions. Graham Hunt, “The Three-Key Trimodular Block
and Its Classical Precedents: Sonata Expositions of Schubert and Brahms,” Intégral 23 (2009).
77 Following this cadential situation, three elided or evaded cadences delay the arrival of the final subordinate-key PAC
(which ends the exposition in the minor mode!). An unconventional subordinate theme is certainly less problematic than
an unconventional main theme—although I would argue that the main theme in D. 810/i is also unconventional.
78 The large-scale presentation comprises a compound presentation that functions as a large-scale basic idea (ten bars)
and its dominant repetition (twelve bars due to extension). These mid-level phrases break down again: each contains two
statements of the five-bar cbi.
79 Again, I suggest that Schubert’s use of elision is intentionally meant to downplay the strength of cadential closure in
these embedded variation sets.

118
variation used to alter repetitions of the cbi: namely, figuration in the upper voices over the
introduction (m. 66) and the registral shift of the cbi up an octave (mm. 67–70).
Example 3.21: D. 810/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Variation Theme (mm. 61–67)
Subordinate Theme (2?) = sentential

“super” presentation
Theme: large-scale basic idea (= compound presentation)
Subordinate Theme = sentential

large-scale presentation
cbi (+ intro)
cbi
intro
°
bi
j
61
Violin I & b c Ó Œ ‰ œ
J n>œ œ œ™ bœ œ™ œ #>œ œ œ™ nœ ˙
pp
j j
& bc Ó Œ ‰ œ œ nœ œ™
œ™
#>œ œ™ œ œ œ ˙
>œ
Violin II
pp
B bc
Viola
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
. . . . . . . . . . . .
r r r r r r
pp
?
Violoncello
¢ bc œ™™ œ
œ™™
œ
œ™™
œ
œ™™
œ
œ™™
œ
œ™™
œ
pp
cbi repeated cbi (repeated)

intro bi (up 8va in vl. 1)
. œ. œ. #œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ œ n>œ œ œ ™ b œ œ ™
new upper voices
ci
. . . .
° b œ
64
œ œ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ™™ œ œ. .
œ œ J
& œ. œ.
R
.
r œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. . . j
&b œ œ œ™™ œ œ. œ œ œ. œ. œ. #œ œ œ™ nœ œ™
. œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ > œ
Bb
œœœœœœ œœœœœœ œœœœœœ œœœœœœ œœœœœœ œœœœœœ œœœœœœœœœœœœ
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
?b r r r r r r r
¢ œ ™™
œ
œ ™™
œ œ™™ œ
œ œ œ™™ œ œ™™ œ œ™™ œ œ™™ œ
no cad
Variation 1 comprises the repetition of the compound presentation beginning in m. 71 (see

Ex. 3.22). Alterations include a new melodic contour, rhythmic augmentation in the bass, and tonal
adjustment. Harmony clarifies this variation’s large-scale formal function as an (eleven-bar) “basic
idea repeated (response)”; changes in rhythm and melodic shape further vary the theme. The
subsequent large-scale continuation (that becomes a transition) was discussed in detail in the preceding
section.80 Of note is the fragmentation of the basic idea in the continuation phrase, further saturating
80 See the section on Variation as Compositional Technique earlier in this chapter, where I detail the use of repurposed
material in parts 1 and 2 of the transition to induce processes of retrospective reinterpretation. Cadential articulation that
could otherwise delineate this twenty-bar unit is undermined by the appearance of the same bass line (in m. 82, second
half) that occurs at the end of m. 65 and m. 70, which is non-cadential at every appearance. If a III: PAC is analyzed in
119
the subordinate theme complex with varied repetitions of thematic material (of the basic idea,
especially).
“super” presentation
Variation 1: large-scale basic idea repeated (= compound presentation)
cbi
intro bi
° #˙ ™ ‰™ œ >œ œ bœ ™ œ œ ™™
> >
71
Violin I & b c
R œ œ bœ œ™ nœ ˙
R >
>
pp
‰™ ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ nœ bœ ™ œ ˙
r r
& bc ˙™ œ #œ œ œ
>
Violin II
pp > >
.
B bc œ bœ œ nœ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ. œ. œ. bœ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ bœ œ œ œ
Viola
b˙ œ. #œ. œ. œ nœ
>˙ >˙
? c
Violoncello
¢ b œ b œ #œ. œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. ˙
> >˙
augmented bass line
Following the large-scale sentential design of the theme and variation 1 is a second formal
unit within the expansive subordinate theme complex that comprises mm. 102–34. While the form-
functional role is unclear in relation to preceding material (following an apparent transition, is this a
new subordinate theme group?), from the perspective of variation this unit breaks down into
variations 2 and 3. Variation 2 retains the structure of a compound presentation (at first); the
treatment of thematic material in this variation significantly loosens the relationship between theme
and variation. Variation 2 is in a new key (the dominant, A major) and is subject to several structural
alterations. This includes a truncated introduction: what was a full measure of thematic introduction
is condensed to less than half a bar in m. 102, displacing the melody by two beats. The resulting five-
bar unit (mm. 102–6) is repeated and expanded (mm. 106–111), and leads to a new passage
consisting of liquidation (mm. 112–13); this ultimately suggests sentential organization governing the
construction of variation 2.
Further changes in the melody (beyond displacement) occur in this variation. The
contrasting idea is given a new rhythm, which more closely resembles that of the basic idea (in the
theme and variation 1 it is rhythmically distinct). Example 3.23 illustrates the beginning of variation
m. 83, it is weakened through elision. This continues the pattern witnessed in D. 956/i and D. 944/i of using elision as
an expansion device to create a single, expanded thematic unit.
120
2, highlighting re-voiced material: violin 2 and cello now sound the melody while a new
accompaniment, derived from transitional material, sounds in the violin.
Subordinate Theme (3?)

Variation 2 = compound presentation
cbi
intro bi (based on var. 1) ci (“new”)
>œ >œ >œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ#œ œ.
° .
œ. œ œ. œ. œ. . . œ. . . #œ #œ#œ œ œ œn œ œ # œ .
#œ. nœ. œ. œ. œ œ. œ.
102
œ ‰ œ ‰
Violin I & b c œ
#œ
. . nœ. œ. J œ. #œ. nœ. œ. œ. œ œ. J #œ. nœ. œ. œ. œ #œ œ J ‰
‰™ œ#œ œ œ #œ #œ œ œ #œ œr #œ ‰™
pp
& bc Œ #œ#œ œ œ™ œ œ™™ #œ#œ œ œ™ œ œ™™ R

œ™™ œ
Violin II
R R ˙ œ R
œ #œ #œ œ œ œ ˙6 ™ œ #œ #œ œ ™ ˙™
n œ # œ #œ œ ™ ˙™ ˙™ #œ #œ œ œ ™ œ #œ #œ œ ™
pp
B b c æ æ æ æ æ æ æ æ
# œ ™ œ # œ ™™ ™ œ # œ nœ œ œ ™™
Viola
œ™™ nœ#œ œ œ™ œ
‰™ ‰™
œ
3
œ œ
pp
? œ #œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ
Violoncello
¢ bc ppœ R R R R R
= mm. 83ff, second half

= variation 1 bi, altered
Variation 3 (mm. 114–34) returns to F major, recontextualizing the key: it was first heard as
the mediant, a typical subordinate key in a minor-mode sonata; after modulating to the dominant, F
is reinterpreted as the flat-submediant in relation to A major. Processes of formal loosening
continue in this variation: an overlap between the end of variation 2 and the beginning of variation 3
occurs on the downbeat of m. 114. While the violins and viola articulate the end of a sixteenth-note
run begun in m. 112, the cello begins variation 3: compare m. 102 in Example 23 with m. 114 in
Example 24—introductory material in the violin is re-voiced, sounding in the cello.
Structural alterations in variation 3, seen in Example 3.24, reinforce processes of loose
variation construction (also witnessed in variation 2). Periodic intrathematic functions replace
aspects of sentential construction found in the theme: what was a compound presentation
(comprising a five-bar cbi and its repetition) is now a six-bar modulating antecedent (mm. 114–19)
followed by an expanded modulating consequent (mm. 120–34). Moreover, the internal grouping
structure of the antecedent phrase diverges from previous thematic statements: the basic idea is
expanded to three bars and is followed by a two-bar cadential phrase (as opposed to the 2+3, bi+ci
construction of previous iterations).81
81 The change in grouping structure results from processes of variation initiated in the contrasting idea of variation 2.
121
In terms of metric placement, variation 3 references previous variations as well as the theme.
Both options for the placement of melodic material are present: the antecedent phrase echoes the
theme; the second phrase employs the rhythmic displacement of variation 2. Phrase overlap occurs
again in m. 120 (as in m. 114): the cello begins the consequent phrase with introductory material
while the other instruments articulate a deceptive cadential resolution.82
liquidation in Variation 2 Variation 3

intro (cello)
œ > œ > œ > œ nœ
° >œ # œ n œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n œ œ œ J (= variation 1) œ
#œ nœ œ >œ œ œ œ ‰ Œ Œ ‰™ R
112
Violin I & b œ
f
# œ n œ œ >œ œ œ œ > ff f
‰ ™ œR
> œ > œ > œ > œ nœ
Violin II & b œ œ #œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ #œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ J ‰ Œ Œ
# œ n œ œ >œ œ œ œ > > ff
f f
>œ œ œ œ >œ # œ n œ nœ
># œ œ >œ œ œ œ >œ œ œ œ n>œ œ œ œ J
> œ œ œ œ nœ œ ‰™ R
œ
Viola B b œ #œ nœ œ œ ‰ Œ Œ
>œ œ nœ œ >œ œ œ œ >œ # œ nœ œ >œ œ œ œ >œ œ œ œ n>œ œ œ œ n˙ ™
f ff f
? #œ
¢ b # œ nœ œ > œ œ œ œ
Violoncello
n>œ œ œ œ
f
H=:
ff
° œ œ œ ™ œ. œ ™ œ œ œ ™ nœ.
bi (expanded) cad
œ œ œ œ ™ #œ œ ™ nœ
(= variation 2)
J bœ œ #œ ™ œ ˙ ‰™ R œ
j
115
&b J œ nœ œ œ ˙ #˙ œ ‰
œ
œ ™ œ. œ ™ œ ™ œ.
‰ ™ œR œ œ
p pp ff
œ œ œ j j
&b œ œ J œ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ™ œ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ œœ ‰
p pp ff
. œ œ œ œ™ b œ.
œ œ œ™ œ œ™
‰™ R
œ œ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ œ nœ ™ œ ˙ œ
Bb J J œ œ œ œ ˙ n˙ œJ ‰
? ˙™ ˙™ ˙™ ˙™
p
pp ff
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
¢ b
w
œœœ
p pp >œ
ff
rhythm and contour = groups with bi
The subordinate theme complex in D. 810/i challenges form-functional analysis. This is due
in large part to the amount of structural changes incurred as the variations progress, combined with
a distinct lack of clear cadential articulation in between phrases—especially between variations 2 and
3. My analyses highlight the processual elements of variation: altered restatements of thematic
material ultimately cohere through processes of both tight-knit and loose variation procedures (that
progressively loosen the relationship between variation theme and varied restatement as repetitions
concatenate). In attending to variation techniques, such as the constant repurposing of material, a
82This is similar to the disjunction occurring between instruments in the cadential situation in between variations 2 and 3
in D. 944/i.
122
listener can experience thematic repetitions comprising the subordinate theme complex in dialogue
with a variation form.
Distributed Variations
In this section I discuss the use of variation techniques to alter thematic restatements occurring
across formal units in sonata form. I refer to these as distributed variations. While embedded
variations evoke variation form as a means of organizing large-scale units of musical form,
distributed variations highlight the overarching sonata form: varied returns of thematic material
often coincide with the articulation of crucial junctures within the form (e.g., a variation of the main
theme following the development section, while heard as a thematic variant, is more likely heard in
terms of sonata form, articulating the beginning of the recapitulation). I begin with a brief discussion
of distributed variations in D. 944/i. I then move on to a more detailed discussion of variations on
both the introduction and main theme distributed throughout D. 887/i.
D. 944/i
In D. 944/i varied restatements of material from the main and subordinate themes are distributed
across all three interthematic functions in sonata form: exposition, development, and recapitulation.
Here, I consider those found in the exposition and development. In the exposition there is a loose
variational relationship between the main theme and transition section. Surface-level alterations in
the transition create a new contour while retaining the rhythm of the theme. Structurally, both are
sententially constructed. In the transition the presence of material derived from the basic idea
continues in mm. 96–97 (the contrasting idea), creating a “new” melody; in so doing, the material in
the upper voices is repurposed to function as accompanimental (see Ex. 3.25).
123
Example 3.25: D. 944/i, Distributed Variations (mm. 78–85 and 94-98)
Main Theme = large-scale presentation + cons. ⇒ cont.
{
presentation
cbi cbi (repeated)
œœœ 3œœœ œœœ œœœ 3œœœ œœœ œ ™™ œœ œœ

bi ci bi ci
& ™™C
œœœ 3œœœ œœœ œœœ 3œœœ œœœ œœœ3œœœœœœ3œœœ œœœ3œœœœœœ3œœœ
78
∑ ∑ œœ œœœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œJ œ Œ ∑ œœœœœœ œœœœœœ
œ™ j œ™ œ œ™ j œ™ œ œ
p f p
? ™™C œ™ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ™ œ œ Œ Ó œ ™ œj œ ™ œ œ ™ œj œ ™ œ œ Œ Ó
f
œ ™ œ œ ™ œJ œ ™ œ œ ™ œJ œ
∑ ∑
œ J œ J
Transition = sentential
{
cbi
cbi (repeated)
“new” idea (derived from MT) ci
œœ
œœœ œ3œœ œœœ œœœ œ3œœ œœœ œœœ œ3œœ œœœ œœœ œ3œœ œœœ
94
∑ ∑ œ
&
™ œ œœ™™ œ™
œ œ™ #œj œ ™ œœ œœ™™
ff
nœj œ ™
œœ
? œœ™ œ œ™
j œ œ
ff
J œ™
nœ œ ™ J œ œ
œJ œ™ #œ œ™ œ œ™ J J
Example 3.26: D. 944/i, Distributed Variations (mm. 254–59)
Development
Pre-core
Subordinate Theme (variation 3)
>. >.
& ™™
b>œœ. bœœ. œœ. nœœ. b>œœ. bœœ. œœ. b œœ . bœœ. bœœ. œœ.
bœœ bœœ. œœ. nœœ
254 fl. + ob.
∑ ∑
Main Theme bi p
™
{ & ™ b œ ™ bœ bœ ™ bœ bœ ™ bœj œ™ bœ bœbœ œ œ œ. œ bœbœ œ œ œ. œ œbœ œ œ œ œ bœbœ œ œ
vl. 1 & 2
j
J J b œ. . œ . b œ. . œ . b œ. . œ . . b œ. . œ
? ™™ bœ bœ ™ bœ bœ ™ bœ œ ™ bbœœj bœ ™ bœj œ Œ bœ ™ bœj œ Œ bœ ™ bœj œ Œ bœ ™ bœj œ
p
{ b œ ™ J J J J bw w w w
Ax=: vcl. + cb.
Main theme material initiates the developmental pre-core in m. 254, transposed to bVI.
Following a restatement of the basic idea in A-flat, a loose variation ensues. While variation
techniques are employed, the treatment of thematic material blurs the boundary between variation
and development: through repurposing material from the exposition, material from the main and
124
subordinate themes sound in immediate succession to create a “new” four-bar phrase (functioning
as basic and contrasting ideas), in mm. 254–57, (see Ex. 3.26). In mm. 258ff fragmentation of
subordinate theme material ensues as a means of formal loosening.
The treatment of main and subordinate theme material in the pre-core anticipates the
subsequent fusion of the two themes in the core, again using variation techniques to develop
thematic material. Here, main and subordinate theme material is juxtaposed to create a sentential
unit (refer back to Ex. 3.8, first discussed in conjunction with pitch reharmonization). Thus, even in
the development section material is derived through processes of variation. As we will see in
Chapter 4, Schubert not only continues to use variation techniques to alter thematic restatements in
his development sections, but also employs variation form as an organizational device.
In D. 944/i, processes of loose variation are employed to vary restatements of thematic
material that are distributed across large-scale formal units in the sonata form. However, continuing
to vary material from the exposition into the development is not uncommon in Schubert’s idiom;
rather, it appears to be a norm. For example, beginning the development with a varied restatement
of expositional material is common in Schubert’s practice: D. 759/i varies material from the
introduction in the development; D. 956/i juxtaposes subordinate theme and closing section
material to create a loose variation in the development section; and D. 810/i uses the basic idea
from the subordinate theme to initiate the pre-core. Again, while it is easy to understand these
instances as familiar maneuvers in sonata form, I suggest we reframe these procedures in terms of
variation—terms that, I argue, are better suited to the explication of Schubert’s sonata forms.
D. 887/i
Variations on introductory and main theme material of D. 887/i occur in the exposition,
development, and recapitulation. This treatment of variation contrasts with the subordinate theme
group, variations of which occur solely in the exposition and recapitulation and are contained within
subordinate theme space. Susan Wollenberg has addressed the variations on main theme material in
her monograph, noting “variations on the first theme extend beyond the exposition, creating a line
that joins the discrete appearances of the theme, and threading a virtual set of variations through the
whole movement.”83 My analyses highlight the techniques used to create such variations, as well as
the variations on introductory material similarly dispersed throughout the movement. I first consider
variations on introductory material before moving on to main theme variations.
83Susan Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints, 235. Dahlhaus also observes the impact of variation on the construction of
the “principal group” of the exposition. Dahlhaus, “Sonata Form in Schubert,” 1.
125
Example 3.27: D. 887/i, Introduction as Variations, (mm. 1–14, 33–43)
Theme: Introduction
˙™
Introduction
° #3 ˙ ™ ˙ œ œ ™™ bœœ ‰™ œ ™ #œ œ™ Œ ‰™ bœ œ Œ
˙ œ œ
Violin I & 4 œ œ
œœ œ R
˙™
& 4 ˙™ ™™ œœ ‰™ bœ ™ ‰™
#3 ˙ œ bœ Œ r Œ ˙ œ nœ
œ œ œ
˙™
Violin II
bœ œ œ™ # œ œ
™ ™ œ™
˙ œ œ
™™ œœ ‰™ ‰ ™ #œ œ
bœ œ
B # 43 ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ Œ
R R
™
Viola
? # 3 Ó™ œ ™™ ‰ ™ bœr b œ
¢ 4 Œ Œ ‰ J Œ bœ œ Œ ∑ ∑ Œ Œ ‰ œ
Violoncello
œ J
° # nœ
œ œ ™ #œ œ™ b˙ ™ ˙™ b˙ ™ U™
‰™ ‰™
nœ œ
8
œ #œ Œ Œ ˙
& œœ œ R
œ™
U
‰™ ‰™ n˙ ™ ˙™ ˙™
# œœ
b˙ ™
œ œ #œ ˙™
˙™
& nœ œ œ™ #œ œ Œ R Œ
œ œ™ œ
n œ™
‰™ ‰ ™ œR ‰™ ‰™
œ # œ œ #œ
B # nœœ R œ œ Œ Œ R Œ ∑ r
œ œ Œ ∑
œ nœ ™
‰ ™ nœR ‰™ ‰™
?# b œ œ œ #œ r U
¢ œ
Œ Œ ∑ ∑ R Œ ∑ œ œ Œ
Variation 1: Main Theme 3? Transition?

Transition
œ œ™
° # œ œ ‰ ™ R œœ nœœ ™™ œ œ œ b œR œ™ œ bœ ™
œ bœ ‰ ™
œœ œ˙ ˙
˙˙ ™™ ˙™ œ œ™
33
& œœ Œ Œ ∑
œnœ
Œ
œbœ
Œ œœ Œ Œ
œ
# ˙˙ œœ ˙ œ
˙˙ ™™
˙ œœ œ Œ Œ Œ Œ ˙ œœ ˙ œ Œ Œ b˙ œ Œ Œ
& ˙™ ˙™ œ nœ̇ ™ œ bbœ̇ ™ b œ n œœ n œ
‰™ R œ ™ œ œ Œ Œ
œ
‰ ™ R œ™#œ œ Œ Œ
˙ œœ œ œ ˙ œœ œ
˙™
œ ˙ œ
B # ˙™ ˙™ œ nœ ™ Œ Œ
˙ œœ œ n˙ œœ œ
Œ ‰ ™ R œ ™#œ œ Œ n˙ ™
b˙ œ
Œ ‰ ™ œR œ™ œ œ Œ b˙ ™
? # ˙™ œ
¢
bœ #œ Œ Œ
-material from introduction subject to variation techniques (pseudo-canon)
Example 3.27 shows the introduction, as a “variation theme,” and the first eleven measures
of variation 1. The introduction in D. 887/i occupies mm. 1–14. This material is closely related to
the main theme that follows in m. 15; one could analyze the derivation of main theme material
through processes of loose variation (of introductory material).84 That being said, a series of eight
variations on this material take place over the course of the sonata form. The first variation begins in
m. 33 with an elided IAC, interrupting main theme variations. The return of varied introductory
material complicates form-functional analysis: is this the third main theme, derived from the
introduction (in a more explicit way than the main theme material in m. 15 relates to the
introduction)?85 Or, does the return of introductory material initiate transition function (employing
imitation as a loosening device)? Susan Wollenberg favors the latter, analyzing the transition as
84 Dahlhaus elaborates on the connection between introduction and main theme material in “Sonata Form in Schubert,”
4–7. Frisch also notes that “the main theme [mm. 15–33] is like an idealized memory of the dotted rhythms and wide
leaps from mm. 3–4, and of the half-step descending figure from G-F-sharp/B-flat-A, from mm. 4–5.” In fact, Frisch
analyzes mm. 1–33 as derived through processes of developing variation (in the Schoenbergian sense). Frisch, “Memory
and Structure in Schubert’s String Quartet,” 584. David Beach also notes that the opening measures give rise to “the
basic premises—the motivic material, harmonic motion, and also the mood” of the first movement. David Beach,
“Modal Mixture and Schubert’s Harmonic Practice,” Journal of Music Theory 38, no. 1 (1998), 87.
85 However, the notion of theme group is troubled in the main theme because each thematic (re)statement ends with an
elided IAC; this runs counter to Caplin’s theory, which requires PACs to delineate groups within main or subordinate
theme zones.
126
beginning in m. 33.86 But the presence of a home key PAC in m. 54 troubles this reading. Following
Dahlhaus (among others), I also locate the expositional transition in m. 54.87 From a form-functional
perspective mm. 33–54 are analytically problematic in that, in conjunction with mm. 15–33, they do
not conform to any Classical theme type.88 However, from the perspective of variation we can
analyze mm. 1–54 as an expanded main theme complex derived through double variation: mm. 1–14
comprise variation theme 1, mm. 15–24 comprise variation theme 2—itself a loose variation of mm.
1–14.
° # 3 ˙˙ œ œ. œ ™ œ. œ. œ
œ
Transition
œœ nœœ œœ ™™
.
54
Violin I & 4 œ œ œ™ Œ #˙˙ Œ

#œ. œ
‰™ R ™‰ R
# œ œ. œ œ. œ
p
Violin II & 43 ˙ ˙ œ œ. #œ
œ œ. œ ™ œ. > ˙˙ œœ nœœ.
p
˙
B # 43 œœ Œ Œ œ œ œ ™ #œ Œ #
Viola ˙
˙ œ œ. œ ˙ œ œ.
p
‰ ™ #œ. œ
? #3 r
Violoncello
¢ 4œ Œ Œ
p >
J=: K
PAC
Variation 2 (Ex. 3.28) corresponds with the beginning of the transition section in m. 54.
While it is a familiar gambit in sonata form to use prior material in the transition, that material
typically comes from the main theme and is subject to loosening devices; material from the
introduction in the transition is more unusual.89 The resulting shift in formal function of material
from before-the-beginning (introduction) to middle (transition) between statements one and three
raises the question: what compositional techniques are employed to alter both intrinsic and
contextual functions? Imitation continues to play an important role in creating a sense of formal
loosening in D. 887/i. While an imitative relationship was established in variation 1, variation 2
86 Susan Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints, 236. Walter Frisch also analyzes the main theme as mm. 1–32 in “Memory
and Structure in Schubert’s String Quartet in G Major, D. 887,” 583–4.

87 Both Hyland and Dahlhaus begin the transition in m. 54.
88 The recapitulation does not clarify matters, as corresponding measures (to m. 33ff) in the recapitulation are indeed the
transition. This is brought about through altered cadential articulation—from IAC to PAC—and a modulation.
89 I propose we reframe this familiar gambit in terms of variation; we can locate the impetus to reuse material, through
repurposing, as indicative of the variation aesthetic.

127
further varies the presentation of thematic material to distinguish between thematic restatements.
Imitative roles are reassigned in this variation: violins 1 and 2 are paired and lead, while the viola and
cello follow (reversing the low-to-high entries of variation 1). Also altered is the distance between
entries, shortened from two bars to one. This foreshortening furthers processes of phrase-structural
loosening en route to a half cadence in B major in m. 59 (prolonged through m. 63 via standing on
the dominant) that ends the transition. In D. 887/i additional variation techniques, combined with
more typical loosening devices, provide a means of imparting medial function from mm. 54 forward.
Variations 3, 4, and 5 occur in the development. Variations 3 and 4 function as the
development’s core, while variation 5 occurs in a passage with post-cadential function, setting up the
recapitulation. Variations 3 and 4 summarize previous iterations of material save one significant
alteration: the viola always sounds the thematic two-bar unit. The introduction is recalled in m. 210
because violins 1 and 2, with viola, play the first two-bar idea; variation 1 is recalled in m. 212 when
the cello (joined by the viola) enters in imitation of mm. 210–11, restoring the size of the imitated
unit to two bars; variation 2 is recalled in m. 212 through instrument pairs (violins 1 and 2, cello and
viola, refer back to Ex. 3.9). Variation 4 is a sequential repetition of variation 3 with one alteration:
the viola is paired with the cello, actively participating in processes of imitation with violins 1 and 2.
Variation 5 begins in m. 278, offering a change in character to alter thematic restatement. It is
pianissimo, the quietest utterance of this material, and the arco articulation evokes a cantabile style.
Moreover, variation 5 begins as a minore variation, reversing the progression from major to minor in
the introduction (regained in variation 8). In forgoing an imitative setting of thematic material this
statement most directly recalls the introduction.90
Variations 6 and 7 are located in the transition of the recapitulation. Variation 8, an echo of
the introduction, occurs in the coda and thus functions as a bookend, or framing device for the
entire movement. Of note in the recapitulation is new the location of the transition: the
recapitulatory main theme replaces an elided IAC (in m. 33) with an elided PAC (in m. 310), and
what was an elided I: PAC (in m. 54) is now an elided IV: PAC (m. 333). Through altering thematic
restatements—specifically, through changes in cadential articulation and the introduction of a
modulation—transition function begins earlier in the recapitulation, at the onset of variation 6 (m.
310).
90 It also raises an interesting question: does the recapitulation begin in m. 278 or m. 292, with the return of main theme
material? Walter Frisch locates the recapitulation in m. 278 as “one of the most radical (and famous) recastings of a first
theme in the entire literature” (Frisch, “Memory and Structure in Schubert’s String Quartet,” 588). I disagree. Because
this statement begins in the dominant and is part of a standing on the dominant following the half cadence in m. 267
that ends the development proper, I analyze mm. 278–91 as belonging to the development. However, due to its location
it occupies a liminal space—both after the end, and before the beginning—thus retaining its status as “before the
beginning” in relation to the main theme.
128
œ. œ
œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ ™
>
° # œ œœœœœœ ™ œœ
>
2
333 3 3 œ
& œ œ œ œ œ œbœ œœ ™ . Œ Œ
. . . . . >
& œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ ‰ ™ œR ‰ ™ œ. œ
# > .œ œœ œœ œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. nœœ. #œœ
R
> >
#
B œ Œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œbœ.
œ œ .
œ œ. œ. œ. œ œœ ™™ œ Œ #œœ œœ œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. nœœ.
œ . >œ
>
. œ. œ. œ. œ>.
‰™
?# œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
¢ Œ œ r
œœ
Variation 7, shown above in Example 3.29, comprises the second part of what is now a two-
part transition. In this variation we find processes of gradatio, as the rhythm quickens from eighths to
triplets beginning in m. 333. Like variation 2, the imitated unit is shortened to one bar. The tonal
course of variation 3, from C major to A major (ending with a II: HC), reverses the tonal trajectory
of the exposition: the transition in the exposition traverses a major third up from G to B, ending
with a half cadence in III while the recapitulation’s transition moves in the opposite direction, down
a minor third.
The eighth and final variation begins in m. 429. It retains the imitative relationship
established in variation 1 but with new instrument pairs: violin 2 and cello, followed by viola at a
unit of one bar. Beginning in m. 437 the pairs change, thus referencing variation 2 (violins 1 and 2;
cello with viola). This variation alters the mode, recalling variation 5, but in reverse order: it begins
with a major chord that is adjusted to minor in m. 437. However, the major mode prevails as the
movement comes to a close. Ending with a varied reprise of the introduction is reminiscent of
Schubert’s variation sets that end with a reprise of the theme. The theme thus operates as a framing
device, bookending a set in variation form, the movement in the case of D. 887/i.
Main theme material is also distributed throughout the movement. There are five tight-knit
variations of the theme, which comprises mm. 15–24: one in the exposition, two in the
development, and two in the recapitulation. Of note are the variations in the development section,
which retain their tight-knit relationship to the theme and thus conflict with our expectations for the
treatment of thematic material in development sections. That is, Schubert chooses to vary rather
than foreshorten, fragment, or liquidate thematic material. As a result, main theme variations in the
development are treated in a similar manner as introductory material is treated in the transition:
129
variation techniques replace the Beethovenian strategies we have come to associate with processes
of phrase-structural loosening. My examples illustrate the first four bars of the theme and each of its
five variants in order to highlight the variation techniques employed.
I begin with the theme, shown below in Example 3.30. Scholars have discussed in great
detail the connection between the homophonic rhythm of the introduction and its melodicised form
in mm. 15–33, and the presence of the lament bass in the cello.91 The theme itself is structured as a
sentence (see Ex. 3.30) that ends with an IAC elided with the onset of variation 1. Walter Frisch
reads the theme and variation 1, the two thematic utterances in the exposition, as an antecedent-
consequent pair. To my ear, the cadential structure of mm. 15–33 foregrounds the variational
relationship, for elided IACs in m. 24 and m. 33 prohibit the hierarchical weighting of cadential
articulation necessary for period construction. Subsequent variations retain the sentence structure
from the theme.
Example 3.30: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Theme (mm. 15–18)
Main Theme (as variations)

Theme (= sentence)
presentation
bi bi (seq)
‰ ™ œ nœ. ™ nœ ˙ ‰ ™ œ. œ™
#3
15
. . œ ‰ .
& 4Œ J Œ . œ ˙ œ ‰
Violin I
J
æ æ æ
& 43 æ˙ ™ ˙™æ ˙™æ ˙æ™
#
pp
æ
Violin II
æ æ æ æ
B # 43 ˙æ™ ˙æ™ n˙æ™ ˙æ™
pp
˙™ ˙™ n˙ ™ ˙™
Viola
? # 43 ææ æ æ æ
pp
Violoncello
˙™
pp
˙™æ n˙æ™ ˙æ™
91Both Wollenberg in Schubert’s Fingerprints and Frisch in “Memory and Structure in Schubert’s String Quartet” note the
lament bass and comment on its evocation of the baroque.
130
Example 3.31: D. 887/i, Main Theme as Variations, Variation 1 (mm. 24–27)
Variation 1: re-voiced, melodic inversion

2
# ˙™ œ œœœœ œœœœ œ œ œ œœœœnœ œœœ œ œ

ææ ææ ææ ææ
24
& æ ˙™
æ
ææ æ æ æ
& æ˙ ™ ˙™æ b˙æ œæ
#
ææ
b˙ œ
æ
ææ
œœœœœœœ ˙
ææ œœœœ œœœœæœ
œ n˙ ™
B# œ ææ
nœ œœœœ œœœœ œ
æ æ
?# Œ ‰ ™ œ ™#œ. #˙ œ ‰ Œ ‰™ œ œ ˙ j
. nœ. ™ .
œ‰
. œ. J
pp
Example 3.31 contains the first four measures of variation 1 (which spans mm. 24–44). In
this variation the theme is re-voiced, sounding in the cello as opposed to violin 1, and melodic
inversion alters the contour in m. 25, 27, 29, and 31. Variations 2 and 3 (mm. 180–9 and 201–210)
are located in the development section. The placement of main-theme variants in the development
section exemplifies the dissonance between Schubert’s treatment of thematic repetition in sonata
forms and our expectations generated by the form.92 The theme is restated in its entirety twice, the
first statement transposed to bVI (E-flat major) and the second to VI (E major); see Examples 3.32
and 3.33. Variation 2 (Ex. 3.32) references the theme, restoring the original contour and
instrumentation. Variation 3 (Ex. 3.33) follows a new modulatory passage (derived from the pre-
core) appended to the end of variation 2, moving from bVI to VI (E major). Alterations include
references to variation 1 (cello melody), revoicing the countermelody (now in the violin) and
transposition to VI.
92For more on the development section and compositional techniques associated with this formal function see Caplin,
Classical Form, 139–60. I consider Schubert’s treatment of development sections in greater detail in Chapter 4.
131
Variation 2: new counter melody, transposed

Variation 2: new countermelody, transposed
. . œ. ˙ b œ. nœ. ™ b œ. b ˙
3
# nœJ ‰ ‰ ≈b œ œ™ bœ
Œ ‰™
bœ
180
& J ‰ J ‰
# ˙ ™™ n˙ ™™ n˙ ™ b˙ ™
b æ˙ ™ b æ˙ ™
pp
& æ b ˙ b
ææ
˙
æ æ æ
. œ. ™ œb œ ™
™‰ bœ. nœ ™ œbœ ™
. . >˙
. œ b . . . b œ.
‰™ R
pp
B# ∑ nœ Œ R
b˙™ b˙™ ˙™
? # ææ
pp
ææ
˙™
æ æ
pp
Gx=
Variation 3: recalls variation 1 (cello melody), new violin countermelody, transposed
#œ nœ
4
# #œJ œœ œœœ
‰ #œ œ œœœ#œœ
201
& ‰ Œ Œ J ‰Œ Œ ‰œœœ œ œ #œ œ
# ææ æ æ æ æ æ
œ #œœœœœœœœœæ œæ
& #˙˙ ™™ œœœœœœœœ#œ œ
œœœœœœœœ œ œ œœ œœ n˙˙æ™™ œ œœœœœœœœœ œ
B # æ˙ ™ æ æ
œœœœœœœœ#œ œ œ
æ æ
œ n˙ ™
ææ ææ #œœœœ æ æœ
œ œœœœœ
‰#™ œœ™ Œ ‰œ™ œ. ™#œ #˙

?# Œ . . #œ. #˙ œ . . œ ‰
J ‰ J
pp
G=
Variations 4 and 5 are in the recapitulation (mm. 292–301 and 301–10, see Exx. 3.34 and
3.35). Variation 4 implements a new running-triplet accompaniment in the viola that, in relation to
previous tremolo passages, sounds like gradatio. Inter-variational reference occurs through the return
of the accompaniment in violin 1 that was first heard in variation 3, and subsequently repurposed in
the core of the development (refer back to Ex. 3.9 for a more thorough discussion of this material).
In variation 5 both inter-variational reference and the revoicing of material continue: the melody
132
returns to the cello (thus completing the pattern of alternating between violin 1 and cello connecting
every other variation) and the running triplets introduced in the viola (variation 4) sound in violin 1.
Variation 4: new melodic figuration (recalls v. 3 countermelody), new accompaniment

5
# œ œ œ œ œ ≈‰ Œ œnœ œ œ œ ≈‰
292
& Œ ‰ œ œœ œœ œ œ R ‰ œ œ œ œœ œ œ
R
& œœ ™™™™ œœ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ ™™ œ

#
pp
œœ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ™ œ œ ™™ œœ œ
pp
B# œœœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
3 3 3
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ ™™ œœ ™ œ
?#
pp
pp
œ™™ œœ™ œ nœ ™™ œ œ™ œ œ ™™ œ œ™ œ
Variation 5: re-voices accompaniment, recalls variations 1 & 3 (cello melody)

6
# œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ#œ œ œ œ œnœnœ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ #œ œ#œ œ œnœ œnœnœ

301
& œ œœ
3 3
& œ ™ œ. ˙ œ™ œ
#
3
b˙ œ™ œ nœ ™ œ. ˙ b˙
œ™ . . .
œ ™ œ. ˙ nœ. ˙ œ œ œ™
œ œ™
œ
B # œ™ œ œ œ™ . . œ
œ.
‰ ™ œ ™ #œ. #˙ ‰™ œ
?# j
. nœ. ™ œ. ˙
œ ‰ Œ œ ‰
œ . œ. J
pp
The treatment of thematic restatement in D. 887/i is more profitably understood through

the lens of variation; this is especially true of the development section, which proceeds from varied
restatements of the main theme to varied restatements of introductory material. As part of a set of
distributed variations, we can appreciate the use of bVI and VI (variations 2 and 3 of the main
theme) as both familiar keys for off-tonic variations and development keys (albeit major mode
realizations). These variations demonstrate that recontextualization and defamiliarization can be
brought about through variation techniques, and further my argument that even though there is an
expectation for extreme contrast, it is not a necessary condition for thematic development.
133
***
In Schubert’s idiom there is a pressing need to reconsider our expectations, as analysts or listeners,
generated by a piece’s being in sonata form that extends beyond the development of D. 887/i. In
fact, it applies to composers well into the nineteenth century: Schubert is but one composer
exemplifying the problem of post-Classical formal analysis.93 If our understanding of normative
procedures is derived from a limited, late-eighteenth century repertoire, how do we evaluate
nineteenth-century sonata forms? While adopting/adapting existing theories of sonata form for the
analysis of Schubert’s oeuvre has proven successful to a degree, the close study of Schubert’s works
provides the most profitable means of recalibrating our expectations. Rather than ground our value
judgments in inherently-biased generalized theories that skew our perception of normative practices,
analysts are better off deriving a set of norms from the composer’s practice (while maintaining a
dialogue with generic precedents).
As scholars search for the means to understand Schubert’s sonata forms on their own terms,
the variation perspective offers such a framework. This chapter demonstrated the incessant use of
variation techniques across three hierarchical levels of form: in isolated instances, within a theme
complex, and distributed across the entire sonata form. From this perspective our expectations can
be recalibrated. From the purview of variation, altered statements of thematic material not only find
value, but can also be framed as both idiomatic and, perhaps more importantly, indicative of
Schubert’s individuated approach to composing sonata forms. In the following, and final, chapter, I
analyze entire sonata forms from the perspectives of variation and formal functions, and solidify the
importance of variation as a compositional device in Schubert’s oeuvre.
93And one of many who have suffered when compared against a series of norms derived from the High Classical Style;
the reception histories of Schumann and Mendelssohn are similarly littered with critiques comparing nineteenth-century
practice against Classical models.
-Chapter 4-
Case Studies: The Last Three Piano Sonatas
This chapter comprises three full-movement case studies demonstrating the impact of variation on
Schubert’s sonata construction. As established in Chapter 3, variation serves two purposes in
Schubert’s instrumental works. First, techniques of variation are routinely employed to both alter
thematic restatements and to derive ostensibly new thematic material. Second (and often as a result
of the first), variation operates as an organizational framework. That is, multiple varied restatements
of thematic material can be analyzed as a variation set nested within or distributed across formal
units in the overarching sonata form. These variations may be tight-knit or loose, or they may
combine elements of both.1
In this final chapter, my analyses focus on the first movements of the last three piano
sonatas: C Minor (D. 958/i), A Major (D. 959/i), and B-flat Major (D. 960/i). Much ink has been
spilled over these late works, especially in attempts to codify a “late style” in Schubert’s oeuvre.
However, the scholarly interest generated by Schubert’s last sonatas, specifically—and, in general, by
his large-scale instrumental music—is a relatively recent trend. In the last two decades many have
dedicated themselves to the task of recasting Schubert (in an image distinct from that of Beethoven),
with a focus on the works composed after 1824.2 While these three late sonatas have been analyzed
from a multitude of perspectives (e.g., new Formenlehre, Schenkerian and neo-Riemannian theories,
hermeneutic analysis, and feminist/queer studies), the variation perspective reveals a uniquely
Schubertian understanding of the relationships between large-scale sections (resulting from the
consistent use of variation techniques throughout the form).
The last sonatas employ variation as a compositional technique and as a means of structuring
large-scale formal units, thus creating relationships between restatements of thematic material
through the course of a piece beyond their meaning in sonata form. The variation techniques
established as idiomatic in Chapter 2 comprise the majority of variation techniques employed in
these sonatas, furthering my claim that certain variation techniques are of stylistic significance in
Schubert’s idiom. While the primary thrust of the chapter is analytical, demonstrating my claims
1I discuss tight-knit versus loose variation construction in greater detail in Chapter 3.

21824 marks the beginning of what John Gingerich deems “Schubert’s Beethoven project”—the year in which Schubert
seriously became involved with composing in the genres in which Beethoven experienced success: the symphony, piano
sonata, and string quartet. While I take issue with aspects of this formulation, the fact that Schubert suppressed music in
“Beethoven’s” genres prior to 1824 holds some weight in the periodization of his output. Gingerich, “‘Classical’ music
and Viennese resistance to Schubert’s Beethoven project,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History, Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine
Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016); Gingerich, Schubert’s Beethoven Project
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).
134
135
regarding the commingling of sonata and variation, I conclude by considering the theoretical
ramifications resulting from the conflation of compositional techniques and formal functions with
regards to the notion of development. I argue that development, while considered an interthematic
function by Caplin, has accrued intrinsic functionality through its association with specific
compositional techniques.3 Moreover, the notion of rest-motion-rest enacted on the highest level of
interthematic relationships—sonata form’s “inherent” teleology—is problematized by Schubert’s
development sections, which challenge the applicability of one generalizable form-functional
relationship as the syntax of a sonata form.
D. 958/i
Many scholars have been drawn to the C-Minor Piano Sonata’s connection with Beethoven’s Thirty-
Two Variations in C Minor (WoO 80).4 As noted by Charles Fisk, “more than any of Schubert’s
other sonatas (more, indeed, than any of his other works) the C-Minor Sonata is compared to
Beethoven. Virtually every discussion of the sonata draws parallels between it and one—or, more
often several—of Beethoven’s works.” 5 The references in the first movement to Beethoven’s
variation theme have been considered in great detail: both pieces share the same tonic (C minor), are
in 3/4 meter, and feature a chromaticized ascent from C to A-flat in the right hand. Yet while
Beethoven’s variations employ a chromatically descending lament bass, Schubert reinterprets the
passacaglia bass; his is not entirely chromatic and is distributed among inner voices (compare Ex.
4.1, the bass line from Beethoven’s WoO 80, with the bass and harmony in Ex. 4.2, the theme from
D. 958/i).
3 That scholars identify “developmental episodes” outside of development sections proper speaks to such markers of
intrinsic functionality. For more on interthematic functions, see William E. Caplin, Classical Form: A Theory of Formal
Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 17–21.
4 For more on the dynamic between Schubert and Beethoven, including a brief survey of literature surrounding D. 958/i
and the strategies employed by previous authors to discuss similarities between the two works, see René Rusch, “Beyond
Homage and Critique? Schubert’s Sonata in C minor, D. 958, and Beethoven’s Thirty-Two Variations in C minor, WoO
80,” Music Theory Online 19, no. 1 (March 2013). http://mtosmt.org/issues/mto.13.19.1/mto.13.19.1.rusch.html
5 Charles Fisk, “Beethoven in the Image of Schubert: The Sonata in C minor, D. 958,” in Returning Cycles: Contexts for the
Interpretation of Schubert’s Impromptus and Last Sonatas (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 180. Fisk’s analysis
highlights elements of cyclic composition in the sonata to support his overarching claim that there are homologies
between tragic moments in Schubert’s life and in his musical compositions. In the case of D. 958/i, A-flat comes to the
fore as a central pitch/key/motive, a “generative kernel for much of the ensuing music of this and the following
movements.” Ibid., 184.
U
U
136
Example 4.1: Passacaglia in Beethoven, WoO 80 (mm. 1–8)
Beethoven, Thirty-Two Variations in C minor, WoO 80: theme, mm. 1–8
? bb 43 ˙˙˙™™™ ˙™
n˙˙ ™™
˙™
bn˙˙˙ ™™™ ˙™ #˙˙ ™™ œœœj ‰ n˙˙ ‰ ™ œr j ‰ j ‰ œ ‰ j ‰ j ‰
n˙˙ ™™ b ˙˙ ™™
j
b œ n˙˙ œ œ œ
œ
D-: k L^ Lt ; KL^ lkko&B^;
Ger Lw kl
KL L K
While analysts often note, in passing, the elements of variation present in D. 958/i, D. 887/i
Schubert, C minor Piano Sonata, D. 958/i: theme, mm. 1–8
remains the now-ubiquitous, “textbook” example of sonata-cum-variation in Schubert’s oeuvre.6 Yet
œ nœœ. œœ. . . . . . .
‰ ™ œœ the ‰ ™ œ œ ofœ musical
‰ ™ œ œ material
œ Œ œœin™™ D.œ 958/i
œ #œ and D.‰ ™ 887/i,
œœ b œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
˙˙
bb ˙many‰ ™ commonalities
? bare r œ j
œ œ œ Œ ˙ between œ œtreatment ™ œ œ
there
R R œ œ #œ R
˙ œ œ. œ.
especially with regards
> œ . . .
to the use of variation: both main themes are treated as .distributedœ. variations,
D-: k
and both subordinate themes comprise nested variations. Moreover, Schubert repurposes material to
derive thematic content in this sonata form (i.e., the theme is itself a variation), a practice idiomatic
to his variation sets. In selecting material from a theme-and-variation set as the basis for this sonata
form, D. 958/i is, from its very inception, in dialogue with the variation genre.
Main Theme: Distributed Variations

Variations on the main theme of D. 958/i are distributed over the course of the sonata form’s
exposition, development, and recapitulation. The main theme begins as an eight-bar sentence ending
with a half cadence in m. 8 (Ex. 4.2). Repetitions of the cadential idea in mm. 9–10 initially suggest a
post-cadential standing on the dominant; however, post-cadential function is abandoned in favor of
a virtuosic “display” episode prolonging VI (mm. 11–18) that re-opens thematic space and thus
expands the main theme. We return to the dominant in mm. 19–20 with the articulation of a
cadential 6/4, but how is this dominant best understood? Is it a reactivation of the cadential
dominant abandoned at m. 9? If not, then what can we make of mm. 9–21?7 If so, then the
resolution to tonic in m. 21 closes the expanded main theme with a PAC elided with the transition’s
onset.8 While cadential, and thus form-functional, ambiguity is apparent in the main theme, the
6 For example, Rusch, Fisk, and Susan Wollenberg all note the variations within the subordinate theme; however, the
variations are not the focus of any author’s analysis. Fisk, Returning Cycles; Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints: Studies in the
Instrumental Works (Burlington: Ashgate, 2011); Rusch, “Beyond Homage and Critique.”
7 Rusch provides an alternate reading: excise mm. 7–19 and delete the original HC altogether (as well as the tonicization
of A-flat major) in favor of the PAC in m. 21. This interpretation preserves the passacaglia’s harmonic progression. See
Rusch, “Beyond Homage and Critique,” [2.3], Example 5.
8 A point in favor of reading dominant reactivation and an elided PAC is the subsequent reference to the “looping”
nature of the passacaglia bass (itself an allusion to the variation genre). As noted by Rush, “phrase elision of this
authentic cadence with the beginning of the varied restatement of the theme in measure 21 (which marks the beginning
of the transition in the sonata form) recalls the passacaglia’s continuous variation procedure.” Furthermore, the
“looping” of thematic material created via elision appears again in the subordinate theme—thus, the subordinate theme
137
influence of variation is clear. Repetition within the presentation phrase is varied: the repetition of
the basic idea in m. 3 is altered via the addition of scalar figuration over rhythmicized block-chords.
Example 4.2: D. 958/i, Main Theme (mm. 1–10)

Main Theme = Sentence
{
presentation continuation
bi bi (repeated) fr
‰ ™ œœ bœ#œœ œœœ ‰ ™ œœœ

b œ œ nœ œœ. œ. # œ. œ. œ.
& b b 43 nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ
r . . R R
‰ ™ œœœ œ nœœ.
œœ œœ œœ. œœ. b œœ. œœ. œœ.
f
‰™ ‰™ œ œ œ ‰™ œ
˙ œ ˙˙
? b 3 ˙˙˙ œœ œœ Œ œœ œ
‰™ œ
b b4 ˙ œ
˙ œ œ Œ R R R
R . .
D-:
k (ped) {kkO&} {L& ; KL} (Ger B^ )
{
cad
standing on the dominant
œ. œ. œ. n œ.
fr
. . œ. œ œ œ œ œ œœ. œœ. œ. œ.
b œœ œœœ ‰™ œ œ ‰™ ‰™
6
œœ œœ œœ nœœ œœ
& b b œœ œ R œ. œ œ œ nœœ œœ œR R
. . .
œ. œœ. r
œœ ™™ ‰™
? bb œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ #œ
™
b œ Œ œ. œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ
>œ œ. œ. #œ. œ. . . œ. œ.
k k^ kk^ Le ; L
HC
From the perspective of variation, we can understand the transition (mm. 21–38) as the first
variation of main theme material. As such, this variation serves a different interthematic function in
the overarching sonata form (see Ex. 4.3). Techniques such as gradatio in both the accompanying and
melodic lines, and alterations in contour (compare the descending scalar run in m. 24 with the
ascending version in m. 3), make clear the connection between this thematic restatement, in sonata
form, with a familiar progression between restatements (as variations) in variation form.9
However, variation techniques occlude rather than clarify the intrathematic functions of the
transition beginning in m. 26. On the one hand, a listener may hear a new grouping structure arise in
comparison with the theme: the treatment of melodic material, combined with the bass pedal, invites
a hearing of mm. 21–26 as one six-bar phrase comprising three two-bar groups; within this
framework we understand mm. 25–26 as a third, varied statement of the basic idea (as opposed to
references the main theme, which in turn references variation through emphasizing its connection with the passacaglia.
Rusch, “Beyond Homage and Critique,” [2.3].
9 Of note is the use of accompanimental gradatio that transforms the rhythmic block chords into an Alberti bass. In so
doing, the characteristic rhythmic content of the main theme (that makes the block chords “thematic” at the
movement’s beginning) is turned into a conventional accompanimental pattern.
138
analyzing fragmentation beginning in m. 25, corresponding with m. 5 in the theme). On the other
hand, one can argue that the original grouping structure is not completely overwritten, as the sigh
motive from mm. 22 and 24 occurs in both mm. 25 and 26, suggesting fragmentation based on the
second bar of the basic idea. Introducing ambiguity to the grouping structure through variation
techniques is one method through which the formal texture is loosened in the transition. These
ambiguities introduced through variation techniques serve to loosen the transition’s phrase-
structural construction, replacing more traditional loosening devices.
Example 4.3: D. 958/i, Variation 1, Transition (mm. 21–31)

Transition = Variation 1
presentation (extended)? or, cont?
{
bi (varied) bi (repeated)
j ‰ ‰™ œ ‰ ‰ ™ œ.
21
b3 bœ œ œ œ j r
& b b4 ™ r œœœ œ
œ œ œnœ œœ œ œ œ œ. nœ œ
? b 3 œœ œ#œ œ œœ œ œ œ œœ
p
œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
b b4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
D-:
{
fr fr consequent?
or, continuation?
or, bi (repeated, x3?) new idea (= m. 7)
œ ‰ ‰™
25
b j j r œ
&b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ
#œ œ. œ œ œ
œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
pp
? bb bœœ nœ bœœ œ bœœ œ œœ œœ œœ
b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Gx=:
{
consequent (repeated?)
œ œ
ci
‰™ ‰™
28
b . œ. r œ R
& b b bœ œ. œ œ œœ œœ œœ #œœ œœ
œœœ
? bb œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ
bœ œ œ œ œ œ
Lw & K
IAC
Correlation with the theme is abandoned at mm. 27; instead there is a “new idea”
accompanied by a striking shift to the major mode, faster harmonic rhythm, and an abrupt drop in
dynamic to pianissimo in mm. 27–28. If we hear fragmentation in mm. 25–26, then the restoration of
two-bar units in m. 27 serves as a new beginning, abandoning the continuation phrase otherwise
139
expected in these measures. If not, the increase in harmonic rhythm—brought about by motion in
the bass (replacing the bass pedal in mm. 21–26) and the articulation of two harmonies per bar
beginning in m. 28—indicates continuation function, which aligns with our expectations following a
presentation phrase.
In further unpacking the transition we find the continued use of Schubertian loosening
devices. What unfolds in mm. 27ff initiates a series of retrospective reinterpretations. Taken
together, mm. 27–30 act as a consequent phrase in relation to the preceding six bars: a new idea
(overwriting the basic idea in mm. 27–28) is followed by a contrasting idea (mm. 29–30), leading to a
III: IAC. Retrospectively the entire unit, to this point, forms a presentation (extended) + consequent
hybrid in mm. 21–30. But the varied repetition of mm. 27–30 beginning in m. 31 (sounding up an
octave) suggests a retrospectively reinterpreted periodic construction beginning in m. 27: mm. 27–30
function as a loose antecedent phrase that begins off-tonic (subdominant harmony in m. 27 moves
to tonic in m. 28) followed by an apparent consequent beginning in m. 31. 10 However, this
interpretation leaves the transition’s first part, mm. 21–26, unaccounted for as an abandoned(?)
presentation phrase.
How can intrathematic functions be reconciled in the transition? The crux lies in our
interpretation of the function of the varied repetition beginning in m. 31: it is either (1) the
consequent phrase of a new periodic structure, thus retrospectively indicating a loose antecedent
phrase (beginning off-tonic) in mm. 27–30, and abandoning the implied sentential construction
suggested through mm. 21–26, or, as I prefer, (2) a repetition of the consequent, further expanding
the (extended) presentation + (new) consequent structure established in mm. 21–30. Regardless of
our analytical preference, both options employ loose formal construction; moreover, transition
function is not conveyed through the traditional, expected loosening devices (e.g., fragmentation,
foreshortening, and sequence). Rather, expansion, form-functional ambiguity, and modulation
loosen this variation of thematic material and impart intrinsic aspects of transition function.
Furthermore, the transition of D. 958/i reinforces the importance of modulation, often abrupt, as
an indicator of transition function in Schubert’s sonata-form idiom.
While the formal functions of the transition are unclear, from the perspective of variation we
can understand how mm. 21ff relate to main theme material. An apparent tight-knit variation begins
in m. 21; however, processes of loose variation take over as the variation progresses (thus integrating
with the overarching sonata form). Moreover, from the variation perspective, the new idea
10 That is, given the content of m. 31 we assume this to be a consequent phrase. However, after three measures thematic
material is liquidated and eventually leads to a III: HC in m. 37 (bringing the transition to an end), thus negating the
status of this phrase as a true consequent. Rather, the cadential articulations in mm. 27–37 are more akin to those of a
reversed period design.
140
beginning in m. 27 is not a non sequitur; processes of variation disguise its correspondence with the
theme. Compare the right hand of m. 27 with m. 7: they are set to the same rhythm, including the
distinctive sixteenth-note pick-up gesture (on the same pitch, G), and have similar contours. Thus,
m. 27 is derived through the repurposing of material: the theme’s cadential idea is transformed into a
lyrical, melodic new idea that is followed by a complementary contrasting idea. The change in formal
function, however, masks this correlation between theme and variation, as the “new idea” functions
as a beginning (while m. 7 has ending function).11
Example 4.4: D. 958/i, End of Development into Recap (mm. 150–61)
Development
Standing on the dominant
{
œ#œnœnœbœ œbœ œ
150 n œ œ b œ œ n œ b œ n œ œ#œ
b3 bœ nœ œ œ œ nœbœ
& b b4 j nœbœ œ#œ nœ nœbœ œ# œ n œ n œ œ # œ œ œ nœ œ#œ œ#œ nœ#œ
n œ. ppp legato
?b3
b b4 ‰™ r Œ
œ #œ œ bœ œ bœ œ #œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ. œ.
{
Return of LH rhythm from main theme
n œ b œ n œ b œ nœ#œnœ
œbœnœnœ#œnœ#œn œ # œ nœbœ œ#œnœnœbœ œnœ œ#œ œ œnœ œ#œ œ#œ n œ #œnœ#œnœnœbœ œ#œnœnœbœ
154
b
& b b nœnœ#œ nœ nœ
3 3 3
‰™ ‰™ ‰™
r r r
p
cresc.
? b ˙˙ œœ œœ œœ Œ ˙ œœ œ œœ œœ
bb ˙ œ œ. œ. n˙˙ œ nœœ. œ. œ
{
nœbœ œnœ Recapitulation
bœ œ n œ b œ œ nœ bœ
œ œ nœ œ #œ œ
158
b œ nœ nœ bœ
& b b bœ nœ œ nœ œ #œ œœœœ
3 3 3 3 3 3 3 .r . .
‰™
f
œœ œœ
‰™ ‰™
˙˙ œœ
? b œœ. œœ. œœœ. œœœ. Œ
‰™
œœ r ˙˙ œœ œœ œœ
bb œ œ œR nœ œ œ. Œ
˙ œ œ œ
.R . .
Distributed variations of main theme material continue in the development section;

however, these restatements of thematic material are loose. That is, they are more referential than
explicit variants of the theme itself. There are two references to the main theme, which occupy the
beginning and end of the development section (mm. 99–100 and mm. 152–59, respectively). The
section begins with a fortissimo A-flat major half note, recalling rhythmically, registrally, and gesturally
11 Again, if we hear fragmentation then m. 27 is a beginning, thus altering the function of material from closing to
initiating.
141
the opening bars of the sonata, and ends with a retransition that repurposes the main theme’s bass
line (see Ex. 4.4). In the retransition, the accompanimental rhythm returns in the left hand of mm.
152–59, supporting chromatic passagework in the right hand while prolonging the dominant. What
is more, Schubert finally employs a chromatic bass line (recall the chromatic descent of Beethoven’s
passacaglia); however, the line is ascending rather than descending. Thus, references to main theme
material serve to frame the development section.
The second tight-knit variation of main theme material occurs in the recapitulation, with the
return of the main theme as variation 2 (see Ex. 4.5). The initial eight-bar sentence is expanded to
ten measures (mm. 160–69). The primary variation technique employed is thematic reharmonization,
including a new bass line: note the enharmonic use of G-flat (F-sharp in the exposition) to tonicize a
Neapolitan chord in mm. 164–65.
Example 4.5: D. 958/i, Main Theme Variation 2, Recapitulation (mm. 160–71)

Recapitulation: Main Theme (variation 2)
Sentence
presentation continuation
{
bi bi (repeated) (model)
. œœ. œ.
œ œ œ nœ œ œœ ‰ ™ ‰ ™ œœ
œ. œœ. bbœœœ .
bœœ œœ
. œ.
160
b3 œœ ‰ ≈ œœœ
& b b4 nœ œ œ œ œ
. œ bœ œ œ
. . R R R
r œ. b œ.
‰ ™ œœœ
œœ œœ
f
‰™ ‰ ™ ∫œ œ œ ‰™ œ œ
˙
? b 3 ˙˙˙
œ ˙ œ œ œ ∫œ œ. œ
‰™
œœ œœ Œ
b b4 Œ ˙˙ œœ nœœ. œœ. Œ bœ
˙ œ œ œ R R R
R œ.
. .
D-: k kkOt Lt ; KL^ L& ; xKK
{
cad.
(sequence)
. œ. œœ. œ. œ™
œœ. œœ. nœœ. œœ. œ. œ . œœ. œ. œœ
bb nœœœœ œœ ‰ ™ ™
œ œ œ œ nœœœœ œœ ‰ ™ R ‰™ R
166
œœ œ
& b
R nœ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ. œ.
R .
bœ . œ. œ. >
? bb ‰ ™ bœ œœ œ ‰™ œ œ œ œ #œ ‰ ™ œ. œ œ œœ
ffz
œ œ œ œ œ
R œ œ ™ œ.
b R ‰ œ œ œ œ
œ. #œ. œ œ œ œ
œ™
œ. R œ œ. œ. . . . œ.
L& ; KKK k^ L
HC
In the recapitulation post-cadential and transition function are fused. Elements from the
exposition, including the reactivation of dominant harmony following the prolongation of VI and
the elision of main theme and transition function are removed. This places the end of the main
theme earlier, in m. 169, and suggests a reinterpretation of the elided PAC in m. 21. That is, the
setting of the main theme in the recapitulation urges the listener/analyst to reconsider whether or
not the dominant is actually reactivated as cadential (after the prolongation of VI in mm. 12–18) in
142
mm. 19–20. From the variation perspective, this passage recalls variation 1 through the use of inter-
variational reference. However, the transition is truncated: there is no equivalent of mm. 21–30 in
the recapitulation, and thus no explicit variation of main theme material. What is more, the syntactic
end of the transition occurs earlier in the recapitulation, with a i: HC in m. 180. A standing on the
dominant comprises mm. 180–7: material derived from mm. 27–28 appears in mm. 180–82,
referencing both the new idea of variation 1 and the cadential idea of the theme. Following this
reference, explicit correspondence with the exposition’s transition is regained in m. 183 (= m. 34)—
just in time for thematic/motivic liquidation, bringing the transition to an end. Of note is the change
in function of material; what was part of the transition in the exposition (mm. 34–37) functions as
post-cadential in the recapitulation (mm. 183–86).
Subordinate Theme: Theme Complex as Variation Set

As demonstrated in Chapter 3, a common strategy Schubert employs to expand subordinate-theme
function is to structure a complex subordinate theme as variations. This holds true in the
subordinate theme of D. 958/i, where repetitions of thematic material cohere as an embedded tight-
knit variation set (see Figure 4.1).
Exposition
Measure 1–21 21–38 39–53 53–67 67–85 85–98
ST theme v. 1 v. 2⇒d.e.

99–159 160–69 170–87 188–202 202–16 216–34 234–248 249–74
v. 3 v. 4 v. 5⇒d.e.

The theme begins with what seems to be an antecedent phrase (mm. 39–44), serving as the

basis for subsequent material (shown in Ex. 4.6 below). This construction recalls D. 810/i, in which
a cbi is repeated and varied to create an expanded large-scale presentation (mm. 61–82); in D. 958/i,
Schubert varies the repetition of a smaller unit, and these repetitions taken together form a larger
theme.
143
Example 4.6: D. 958/i, Subordinate Theme as Variations, Theme (mm. 39–53)
Subordinate Theme as Variation Set

Theme = expanded period? Or, loose compound sentence?
antecedent? or, cbi? consequent (extended?) or, cbi (repeated)?
ci (elided)
{
or
bi ci bi
40 . .
b3 Œ œ œ
& b b4 œ œ œ ˙ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ˙
˙ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ ˙ œ œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œœ œœ
œ. œ. œ. Œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ . . . œ. œ.
. . œ.
p
? b 3 œ œœ ˙˙ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ˙˙ œ œ ˙ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
b b4 œ œ ˙ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. ˙
Gx=: KL K L K
HC or PAC
elided
{
cbi (repeated) ⇒ continuation?
. .
“new” ci ⇒ model sequence bi (varied, dominant) cad
>
œœ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ
œœ ™™ œj œ bœ bœœ œœ bœœ œœ bœœ nŒ˙˙ œ ˙œ ™ nœ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œœ ™™
Œ̇ œ œ
46
b
&b b œ œœœœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ
pp
œœ b œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ b œ ™™ œ b œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ >˙
p
œœ™™
cresc. cresc.
b˙ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ
?b ˙ bœ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ bœ ˙
bb J œ œœœœ œ œ œ
L&/KL L&/xKKK L& {K KL} L& K
IAC
The larger-scale design of mm. 39–53, resulting from concatenated repetitions of a shorter
idea, is form-functionally complex. It begins with a basic idea in mm. 39–41, but mm. 42–43 already
demonstrate the use of variation to problematize formal functions. In this case, variation imparts
ambiguity to mm. 42–43. Given the similarities in rhythmic profile and contour these measures
could constitute a varied repetition of the basic idea. Yet harmony is used to create (some) contrast,
suggesting a contrasting idea.
The treatment of cadential articulation in the contrasting idea introduces another ambiguity:
where, exactly, is the cadence? Does this phrase end with a half cadence in m. 43 or with a PAC in
m. 44? A PAC in m. 44, eliding with the beginning of the consequent phrase, implies a “(Mozartian)
loop,” defined by Hepokoski and Darcy as “a short module (two to six measures)—usually closing
with a cadential progression—that is either elided or flush-juxtaposed with a repetition of itself
144
before moving forward into differing material.”12 While the cadential status of mm. 40–43/44 is
ambiguous, variations clarify this ambiguity. I will return to this point in my analysis of subsequent
variations.
In the apparent consequent phrase (mm. 44–53) we find processes of nested variation: a
third voice is added to thicken the texture and the harmonic progression is changed so as to briefly
tonicize IV in mm. 46–47. These alterations to the harmonic progression eliminate cadential
articulation, and the period structure we expect to comprise mm. 39–47 fails to materialize. Instead,
what follows suggests continuation function: a sequential repetition of mm. 46–47 down a step in
mm. 48–49 tonicizes bIII (G-flat major) via its dominant. The dominant of the subordinate key is
reached in m. 50 leading to a cadential progression ending with an IAC in m. 53, bringing the theme
to a close. While the model-sequence passage could be subsumed within the “consequent” phrase as
a means of extending it, I read this section against the background of a compound sentence. In this
interpretation cadential elision in m. 44 undermines cadential articulation, thus reframing the
apparent antecedent in mm. 40–44 as a cbi, the repetition of which becomes the continuation (as
opposed to an open-ended consequent phrase). Model-sequence technique implies continuation
function in mm. 46–49 leading to the cadence in m. 53. Admittedly this is a loose compound
sentence; however, as it is the subordinate theme, we can perhaps accept such loose construction.
The subordinate theme exemplifies the use of variation as a compositional technique: the
material in every two-bar group can be traced back to the basic idea, whether melodically or
rhythmically (the continuation phrase contains a displacement dissonance). An analysis of the
theme’s constituent formal functions reveals the degree of nuance involved in applying Caplin’s
theory to this piece. However, construing the relationship between groups within the theme from
the perspective of variation offers an alternate view. We can understand mm. 48–50 as a varied
repetition (through transposition) of mm. 46–47, and mm. 46–47 as a reharmonized variation of the
basic idea. Moreover, the relationship of the theme to subsequent variations is clear. As such,
variation provides a useful framework for interpreting relationships among varied restatements of
thematic material. Simply put, when understood as a variation set, the subordinate theme makes
sense.
The first variation begins with the pickup to m. 54, shown in Example 4.7. Alterations
include the use of gradatio in the left-hand accompaniment and the melody now sounding in octaves;
12 James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Type, and Deformations in the Late-Eighteenth-Century
Sonata (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 80. As noted above, the looping of the subordinate theme hearkens
back to the passacaglia bass referenced in the main theme, as the harmonic progression of the passacaglia also creates a
phrase loop.
145
the use of the former technique clearly references the variation genre. 13 Due to the cadential
structures of both the theme and variation 1, each ending with an IAC, it is easier to understand the
relationship between these two iterations of thematic material as a theme and variation than it is to
reconcile mm. 39–67 with a standard theme type.
Variation 1 = loose compound sentence

Presentation
2
cbi cbi (repeated)
{
bi
bi ci
œœœ ˙ >˙
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
53
b œ œ
&b b œœœ ˙
œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ
? bb œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œnœ œbœœ œœ œnœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ

b œœœ œ bœ nœ œ œ
3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3
3 3 3 3
Gx=:
L^ ; L & K
PAC
elided
Internally, variation 1 highlights one of two possible interpretations of cadential articulation

at the end of the theme’s first four bars (compare mm. 43–44 with mm. 57–58). The arrival on V in
m. 43, potentially an HC, is treated differently in variation 1: the harmonic progression in m. 57, the
parallel measure, is altered to include a predominant (V6/V), and the entrance of V is pushed back to
beat two. Thus, the cadential progression in m. 57 strongly suggests an elided PAC on the downbeat
of m. 58, intensifying the perception of looped thematic statements alluded to in the theme.
Through this repetition, variation influences the analysis of formal functions: clarifying the cadence
as a PAC strengthens my interpretation of the first four bars (of the theme and its subsequent
variations) as part of a presentation phrase in which elision is used to weaken cadential articulation.
Following variation 1 is a minore variation, intensifying the reference to variation form in the
subordinate theme’s construction (see Ex. 4.8). 14 In addition to being set in the minor mode,
processes of rhythmic gradatio continue in variation 2, this time to vary the melody (through
embellishment). While variation 1 is a tight-knit variation of the theme, variation 2 loosens the
13Fisk refers to this as a “simple figural variation.” Fisk, Returning Cycles, 185.
14Fisk and Wollenberg note the minor variation; Wollenberg also considers this variation to evoke the “etude topic.”
Fisk, Returning Cycles, 185; Wollenberg, Schubert’s Fingerprints, 240.
146
relationship between theme and variation. Moreover, the degree of tonal and phrase-structural
loosening that occurs throughout variation 2 conveys continuation function on a larger scale. As
such, variation 2 both enhances the perceptibility of the variation form within the subordinate theme
and clarifies its underlying form-functional organization. Following the loose construction of
variation 2, we can retrospectively reinterpret the theme and first variation as a large-scale
presentation: from the perspective of formal functions, a pattern of tight knit + tight knit
construction emerges through mm. 39–53 and their repetition in mm. 53–67 (in retrospect),
suggesting a reinterpretation of the theme and variation 1 as a large-scale presentation.15
Variation
Variation2,2,minore
minore
antecedent (modulates
⇒ model to III)
{
large-scale bi
bi
b 3 œœ ™™
& b b4 œ ™
67
œ
œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ
>œ. œ. œœ. >. bœœ. œœ. . . . . .
>. œœ . œœ bœœ œœ œœ
mf
3
œ
? bb 43 œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ > œ
b œ . œ
œ. bœ œ.
Gx-:
{
sequence (modulates to iv)
consequent
ci bi
70
b œ œ œ
& b b œ bœ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ bœ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
. . . . >œ. p
. . .
.œ .œ
? bb bœ. œ œ. œ œ. œ œ œ œ bœœ œ bœ. b œœ >. œœ >. bœœ
œ œ b >
b œ. œ b œ œ b œ
œ.
Jx=: L& K
KKK: PAD
Within variation 2 the treatment of cadential articulation is altered again, making the elided
PAC (in m. 72) even more explicit; the HC interpretation is completely negated in this variation. In
mm. 71–72 (which correspond with mm. 43–44 [theme] and mm. 57–58 [variation 1]) a cadential
dominant-seventh chord arrives on the final eighth-note in m. 71, resolving to tonic on the
downbeat of m. 72 and effecting a modulation to bIII. This modulation in variation 2 recalls the
tonicizations of bIII in the theme and variation 1.
15Recall the large-scale sentential designs in the subordinate theme complexes of D. 944/i, D. 956/i, and D. 810/i
discussed in Chapter 3.
147
Following m. 72, variation 2 begins to loosen formal construction in the subordinate theme.
We expect a (near) exact repetition of the large-scale basic idea in mm. 72ff. Instead, mm. 72–76 are
a sequential repetition of mm. 68–72 (modulating to IV, A-flat major). How are we to understand
the new relationship between mm. 68–72 and their repetition in mm. 72–76? What is their formal
function? On the one hand, we can still interpret mm. 68–76 as a large-scale presentation phrase,
altering the repetition of the basic idea from exact to sequential. On the other hand, this alteration
could imply a structural change: as a loosening device, the use of model-sequence technique
positions variation 2 as the beginning of a large-scale continuation in relation to the theme and
variation 1. Following the sequential repetition in mm. 72–76 is a section of passage work that I
interpret from the variation perspective as an embedded display episode; this passage alludes to
displays of virtuosity associated with the theme and variation genre. Form-functionally, mm. 77–85
are a continuation phrase: fragmentation into three-bar units begins in mm. 77–79; the three-bar unit
is repeated in mm. 80–82, with further fragmentation to one-bar in mm. 83 and 84.16 This passage
prolongs predominant harmony, expanding the tonicization of IV first occurring in mm. 46–47, and
leads ultimately to a III: PAC in m. 85.
Variation continues into the closing section (mm. 86–98), which references the subordinate
theme’s melodic-motivic content through loose variation. In the first codetta (mm. 86–89) we find
melodic material from the theme’s right hand repurposed as a left-hand accompaniment line while a
new melody sounds over top. The repetition of this codetta (mm. 90–93) is varied, sounding down
an octave and embellished. In the recapitulation, the same theme returns transposed to the major
mode of the home key, and retains its phrase-structural/tonal organizational structure. The codetta
leads to a return of development material in the coda, recalling its position in the exposition (leading
into the development).
Development Section as Variation Set

A close reading of the development section exposes the influence of variation on its construction.
While addressed in further detail at the end of this chapter, considering the compositional
techniques and organizational strategies of Schubert’s development sections reveals a construction
similar to that of the exposition and recapitulation, reframing the role of the development (in the
16 As the large-scale continuation, variation 2 is itself structured sententially. However, continuation function, operating
for an extended period of musical time on such a large scale, problematizes the distinction between large-scale
continuation and developmental core. Indeed, Schubert’s use of developmental episodes in expositions further muddies
the distinction between these two functions. Context becomes crucial in distinguishing continuation from core in the
subordinate theme of D. 958/i: the large-scale sentential design of the subordinate theme suggests continuation function
in variation 2 in relationship to the theme and variation 1. For more on the role of context in distinguishing
developmental episodes from large-scale continuations, see Chapter 3.
148
context of a sonata form) and troubling the narrow set of compositional techniques associated with
thematic development (as intrinsic markers of development function). In this development section,
as in those of D. 959/i and D. 960/i, variation is employed in tandem with more familiar (i.e.,
Beethovenian) loosening devices that have accrued intrinsic development function.
In D. 958/i the development does not explicitly vary material from the exposition. Rather,
material within the development is subjected to processes of variation. That said, connections to the
exposition remain: melodic figuration from variation 2 (beginning in m. 67) is repurposed in the
accompaniment of core 1 (Ex. 4.9).
Example 4.9: D. 958/i, Repurposing Material (m. 103)
{
Development
Pre-Core
Core 1
>œ ™
œ ™™
j .
bœœ
103
b
& b b 43 b œj j œœ
œ œJ
œœ n œœ œ.
œ
' ' p
?b3 j
ff
b b4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ
'
The model, mm. 103–5, is sequenced up a step in mm. 106–8. A second iteration of the sequence
begins in m. 109 but then leads to fragmentation, lasting through m. 113. While rhetorically the
liquidation of thematic material beginning in m. 114 suggests further destabilization, the passage is
structurally stable: a cadential progression begins in m. 114. Melodic/motivic liquidation thus blurs
the boundaries between developmental processes and cadential function. In mm. 115–16 the onset
of a two-bar cadential dominant which leads to a PAC in D major on the downbeat of m. 117
clarifies the function of m. 114 (as a cadential pre-dominant). Taken together, mm. 103–117
comprise core 1 of the development.
A linking section connects the first core with a second developmental core. It begins with a
variation of the accompaniment in core 1 that is taken up by the right hand in m. 117. After two
bars, the left hand enters in m. 119 with a new three-bar idea. The new idea is repeated in mm. 122–
24, accompanied by a variation of register as the left hand sounds three octaves higher, crossing over
the right (Ex. 4.10).
149
Example 4.10: D. 958/i, Development Variations (mm. 118–24)
Pre-core
{
inter-Core link
new idea
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ#œœ œœœ nœ
118
?3 œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
4
decresc. pp
? 43 ∑
œ #œ œ bœ œ bœ œ #œ œ œ œ
Core
{
Core
new idea (repeated, varied)
œœ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œœ œœœ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
121
? œ
? Œ Œ œ #œ œ bœ œ bœ œ #œ œ œ œ œ Œ Œ
&
œ
Core 2 is substantially longer and, unlike core 1, relies heavily on techniques of variation as a
means of developing material. Core 2 begins in m. 125 as if it were a third repetition of the three-bar
idea from the inter-core link. Alterations to the bass melody, beginning in m. 126, begin a process of
fragmentation that retrospectively implies continuation function within a sentential phrase that
started in m. 119: a new idea, mm. 119–21 and mm. 122–24, is followed by a third, unraveling
statement beginning in m. 125. However, the third, unraveling statement begun in m. 124 is actually
the beginning of the model of the second core. This model comprises mm. 124–33 (Ex. 4.11) and is
itself a variation of (or, is derived from) inter-core material. The treatment of material here is such
that the boundary between sections (inter-core versus core 2) is ambiguous. In fact, we only realize
that a second core has begun when the new model is sequenced (up an augmented fourth) in mm.
133–41. This sequential repetition is varied through partial part division—the left hand accompanies
while the right takes up the melody—and part division, as the last two measures return to the
original configuration.
150
Example 4.11: D. 958/i, Development as Variations (mm. 124–33)
Core
{
2 varies Pre-core
model (mm. 124–33) = varies inter-core material
material
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ bœbœ œ bœ œ œ
? œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œbœ bœ œnœ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœbœ
124
bœ & bbb
cresc.
& œ Œ Œ ?
bœ œ bœ n œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ bœ nœ bœ œ b œ bbb
œ #œ œ
œ bœ œ bœ
{
sequence
sequence (mm.
(mm.132–41)
133–41)
-varies model
129
b
& b b œ œ œ œ œbœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œbœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œnœbœbœ œ œ bœ œnbœœ œ œœ œ œœ œ œœbœ œœ œ œœœ Œ Œ
œ nœ
>œ œ œ >œ œ
p pp
?b
b b œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ bœ œ nœ œ œœ œ œ
œœ œœœ œœ
œ œ
bœ nœ œ œ œ œ
Ax=: lkkO&;L K
IAC
Fragmentation follows the sequential repetition, leading to a home-key half cadence in m. 148. Units
are abruptly shortened from ten bars to three in m. 142, and from three bars to two in m. 148. A
degree of form functional stability is retained, however, as fragmentation does not continue below
the two-bar level (see Ex. 4.12).
While the first core relies on standard techniques associated with thematic development (e.g.,
fragmentation and liquidation), in the second core the emphasis is shifted to variation as a
developmental process. The model in core 2 is an expanded variant of inter-core material, and is
itself varied upon its sequential repetition. These aspects take precedence over the more
characteristic techniques found in core 1—units are never reduced below two measures, and melodic
material remains intact. The juxtaposition of loosening devices in the development of D. 958/i—
core 1 being perhaps more indicative of the Beethovenian style of development, while core 2 is
demonstrably Schubertian—reveal a broader conception of thematic development as manifest in
Schubert’s sonata forms.
151
Example 4.12: D. 958/i, Development as Variations (mm. 142–52)
fragmentation of model
{
b œ œ b œ œ n œ b œ nœ œ . œ n œ b œ n œ b œ œbœ b œ
3
œ #œ œ #œnœb œ nœ œ œ œ
142
b #œ bœbœ œ∫œ œ nœ nœ nœbœnœ œnœ
& b b bœœJ bœ œbœ œnœ œ#œnœ œ œ œ œnœ œ J bœnœ œ œ œ
pp
decresc.
leggiermento
? b bœ œ œ nœ #œ nœ bœ nœ œ œ œ bœ œ nœ œ œ œ œ nœ œ bœ œ bœ œ nœ œ œ
bb œ
{
j œ #œ nœ nœ bœ nœ bœ œ nœ œ bœ œ nœ bœ
147
b
& b b nœ œ œ œ œ #œ œ. nœ œ #œ bœ nœ œ œ
n œ œ bœ nœ bœ nœ œ
ppp
? bb œ nœ bœ
b nœ bœ œ #œ œ bœ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ
D=: L
HC
Return of MT rhythm, left hand
{
œ #œ nœ nœ bœ nœ bœ œ
150
b n œ œ b œ œ n œ b œ n œ œ #œ bœ
nœ œ œ œ nœ bœ nœ bœ
&b b j œ #œ nœ nœ
n œ. ppp legato
?b
bb
œ #œ œ bœ œ œ œ #œ œ œ ˙
œ
Of equal if not greater importance are the similarities between exposition/recapitulation and
development sections in terms of how thematic material is treated. The use of variation, as a
compositional technique and organizing force throughout the sonata form, in turn affects
interthematic functions: because restatements of thematic material are subject to variation
techniques regardless of their placement in the exposition/recapitulation or development, the
difference between these respective interthematic functions is downplayed.17 Moreover, techniques
understood as developmental, such as model-sequence technique and fragmentation, are also
17 This perhaps prefigures sonata forms of the later-nineteenth century in which the rotational design posited by
Hepokoski and Darcy becomes a more convincing (than when applied to eighteenth-century sonata forms) analytical
heuristic. A rotational design suggests a more even-handed relationship between exposition/recapitulation and
development, similar to the sort of relationship suggested by the treatment of material in Schubert’s sonata forms
(although I would not go as far as to say that the primary organizing force in Schubert’s sonata forms is rotational, due
in part to the treatment and ordering of material within the development section).
152
prominent in all three of the movement’s major sections. While these developmental episodes
appear out of place in contemporary understandings of sonata form, a sonata perspective rooted in
the legacy of A.B. Marx, Schubert’s idiom asks us to reconfigure our expectations pertaining to what
compositional techniques are or are not appropriate to a given interthematic function. That is, rather
than simply broaden one’s criteria for thematic development—while that is a worthwhile exercise—
sonata forms like D. 958/i require analysts to grapple with larger concerns, such as reconsidering
tenets of sonata form like the distinction between exposition, development, and recapitulation.
D. 959/i
Schubert’s A Major Piano Sonata (D. 959/i) has received less critical attention than D. 958/i. Rather
than suffer myriad comparisons with a pre-existing piece (as is the case with D. 958/i), D. 959/i is
often considered on its own terms as an exemplar of late style in Schubert’s oeuvre. Robert Hatten
suggests that Schubert’s treatment of gesture, and the use of overtones found in D. 959/i, are
indicative of Schubert’s late style.18 Julian Horton approaches the movement from the perspective of
performance and analysis: specifically, he asks how analysts and performers can best interpret such
an “expansive” movement, which is riddled with “repetition” and “redundancy,” but also maintains
a tension “between episodic and developmental processes?” 19 Anne Hyland and Walburga
Litschauer discuss the composition of the last three sonatas, including D. 959/i, tracing the
development of the work through various editions and revisions. 20 Charles Fisk probes cyclic
elements of the sonata’s composition.21 What these discussions of Schubert’s late style have yet to
consider is the influence of variation, as a part of his compositional idiom, and its especial
prominence in the late piano sonatas (even in the absence of an overt dialogue with theme-and-
variation form).
While the influence of variation form in D. 959/i is less than what we observed in D. 958/i,
elements variation are integral to its construction.22 Though not analyzed in this chapter, it is worth
noting the predominance of compositional decisions reflecting aesthetics of variation beyond the
18 Robert Hatten, “Schubert’s Alchemy: Transformative Surfaces, Transfiguring Depths” in Schubert’s Late Music: History,
Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).
19 Horton establishes a series of binaries—lyric/dramatic, episodic/teleological, lyric/developmental—that “underwrite
further critical traditions in Schubert reception” and avers that the tension between these binaries “[reinforces]
Schubert’s otherness.” Through the analysis of D. 959/i, he seeks to problematize these binaries. Julian Horton, “The
First Movement of Schubert’s Piano Sonata D. 959 and the Performance of Analysis,” in Schubert’s Late Music: History,
Theory, Style, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 174.
20 Anne M. Hyland and Walburga Litschauer, “Records of Inspiration: Schubert’s Drafts for the Last Three Piano
Sonatas Reappraised,” in Rethinking Schubert, ed. by Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (New York: Oxford
21 Fisk, “Recovering a Song of Origin” in Returning Cycles.
22 Many elements understood as cyclical by Fisk can also be understood from the perspective of variation, as my analyses
demonstrate. For more on the relationship between cyclicism and variation, see Chapter 2.
153
first movement sonata form. For example, the urge to vary is evident with regards to the selection of
thematic material in the finale: Schubert self-borrows, repurposing pre-existing material as thematic
content.23 In the first movement the influence of variation comes to the fore in the development
section where, as in D. 958/i, the extensive use of variation techniques blurs the line between
variation and development. I first consider the treatment of thematic material in the exposition and
recapitulation before turning to the development section.
Main Theme
Many aspects of the main theme, including its homophonic texture, formal construction, and the use
of nested variation in A′, are indicative of Schubert’s variation practice.24 The theme itself, shown in
Example 4.13, is in small ternary form—albeit not without ambiguity. Horton prefers a periodic
design, noting the similarity between mm. 7–12 and 22–27 as continuation phrases (in an antecedent
+ continuation hybrid) that form a compound period in mm. 1–27. 25 However, I believe the
disparate intrinsic functions of mm. 7–12 (as contrasting middle) and mm. 22–27 (post-cadential,
i.e., closing section) prohibit such an interpretation, and thus analyze a small ternary construction in
mm. 1–22 (in which the codetta of A′ becomes the transition section). The theme’s formal ambiguities
result from the extensive use of variation for the derivation of thematic material (one would be hard
pressed to deny the similarities between mm. 7–12 and mm. 22–27). Also noteworthy are ambiguous
intrathematic functions within the A section that are clarified upon the varied return of thematic
material in A′. Thus, variation serves by turns to obscure and to elucidate formal functions in the
main theme.
23 As Fisk notes, “for both its beginning and its ending, the finale of the A-Major Sonata draws on sources outside itself.
As is well known, D. 959/iv appears to take its theme from a much earlier piece, the E-major Allegretto quasi Andantino
of the Sonata in A Minor, D. 537, which was composed in 1817.” Fisk, Returning Cycles, 204.
24 The main theme of this sonata comprises loose phrase-structural construction, especially for a main theme. Fisk
describes the theme in nebulous terms (his discursive style reinforcing the problems this theme poses analysts): “the
blankness of the opening phrase makes it, in a sense, inscrutable.” He goes on to note that the opening phrase is neither
a period nor a sentence, further reinforcing the impenetrable nature of the theme. In Fisk’s prose Schubert’s phrase
structure appears unanalyzable, it is completely othered by our biased analytical systems. Ibid., 207.
25 Horton, “The First Movement of D. 959,” 175.
154
Example 4.13: D. 959/i, Main Theme (mm. 1–26)

A = cbi + cad?
{
cbi? cad
bi ci?
##
&#cww
w
w
˙˙
˙˙ œœœ nœœœ œœœ œœ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ ˙˙
œœ ˙˙ ˙˙˙ œ
wwœ ##œœ œ ˙˙
w ww œ œ œ . . . . ˙ œ
>
j œœ. . nœœ. .
f fz fz
? ###c œ j
œ. Œ ‰ œœ œœ Œ ‰ œœ œœ. œ œ
œœ ‰ œœ ‰ œ œ œ œ ˙˙
œ. œ. œ. œ.
˙˙ ww
w
. . œ . J J w
œ. . œ.
A=: K^ KL L&
{
HC ?
or, evaded?
B = sentential
œœœ œœ œ œ nœ
## nœ œ
7
œœ œ ˙˙ œœ n˙˙ œœ œ
&# œœ Œ Œ œœ ˙
œ nœ
œ
Œ
œ. ˙
Œ nœ œ˙
3
3
. > > cresc.
œ . .
? ### Ó Œ œœœ ‰ œœ n˙˙ Œ œ nœ œ œ j ‰ nœœ #˙˙
p
n˙˙
3 3
j Ó Œ
œ œ œ nœ. nœ. #>˙
.
A′ = cbi + cad?
{
cbi
œœœœœœœ œœ
bi (varied)
œ œœ
### œ nœ œ œ œ#œ œ#œ œ œnœ œ j ˙
12
& œnœ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j ‰ œ. ‰ ˙

œ nœ œ œ œ.
ff
. . œ#œ œ œ œnœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ.
? ### Œ œ ˙˙ ™™
nœœ #ww #œœœ
bœœœ nœœœ
fp
œ. w
w œ Œ œ œœœ œœ ‰
J
cad?
{
2
ci!
##œ œ. ‰ œ ˙
17
˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ
3 3
&# œ œJ œ œ. œ
œ œ #œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙˙
˙ œ #œ œ œ œ œ ˙
>
˙ ™™ œ. . nnœœœ. . œœ.
˙˙ ™
? ### ˙˙ œœœ œœœ œ œ ˙˙ ˙˙
œœ ‰ ˙ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ ˙ ˙
J
K^ KL
3 3
closing section
{
21
##w œ œœj ‰
œ
œœ œœœœ œœ. ˙˙˙ œœ
& # wœ œ œ ˙ œœ œœœ Œ Œ ˙˙
˙˙ ‰ Œ œ ‰ ˙ œ
œœœ œ. œ œ œj J
>
pp
œœ. ˙˙ œœ œœ. ˙>˙ œ
? ### œw œ œ ˙ œœ œœ œœ œ ˙ œœ
w œ Œ Œ œ j‰ J ‰ Œ Œ œ j‰ J ‰
œ. œ.
Lr K
cad?
Intrathematic functions in the A section are ambiguous due in large part to the combination
of a tonic pedal in the bass and the soprano. While a basic idea is discernible, in comprising the first
155
two bars, the grouping and function of mm. 3–4 is unclear: (1) given the retention of the tonic pedal
in the soprano accompanied by new inner voices, mm. 3–4 can be read as a contrasting idea; or, (2)
given increased harmonic and surface rhythm, m. 3 can be interpreted as the beginning of a
continuation phrase comprising mm. 3–6. This has ramifications for the interpretation of mm. 1–6
in toto: is it subdivided as 4+2 (cbi + cadence) or 2+4 (bi + continuation)?26 Formal analysis is
further troubled by the problematization of cadential articulation in m. 6. The addition of a chordal
seventh over dominant harmony places the status of the dominant (as ultimate or penultimate) in
question.
While the A section exhibits loose phrase-structural construction—running contrary to our
expectations on multiple levels—the subsequent B section is reasonably tight-knit. A sentential
design comprises mm. 7–15, ending with a dominant arrival in m. 13 that is prolonged through m.
16. Here, the dominant is again problematized through inversion and the addition of a chordal
seventh.
Through processes of nested variation in A′ intrathematic functions are clarified. The four-
bar phrase in mm. 16–19 is a cbi: no longer bound by tonic pedals in outer voices, a melody emerges
that distinguishes the basic idea in mm. 16–17 from the contrasting idea in mm. 18–19. This is
supported by the harmonic progression in mm. 16–19. Cadential function is similarly clarified,
although the obfuscation of cadential articulation further reinforces loose construction. The
resolution of dominant to tonic in m. 21 suggests, retrospectively, that the dominant in m. 6 is
penultimate, which in turn implies a drastically evaded cadence (read: no cadence!) at the end of the
A section. In A′, the dominant is again problematized—this time not by its location in the cadential
progression, but by the fact that it appears in inversion, undermining the cadential progression.
Thus, processes of variation play an important role in the theme as evidenced by the intersection of
variation techniques and form-functional analysis.
As the main theme becomes the transition, variation continues to play a role in the derivation
of material. The passage beginning in m. 28 (see Ex. 4.14), intrinsically functioning as a closing
section, is derived from the reprise of the main theme (cf. mm. 28–29 with mm. 16–17). As the
transition progresses, Schubert blends idiomatic with conventional loosening devices: imitation is
implied between left and right hands beginning in m. 28, and sequential repetitions are subject to
variation techniques (compare the model and first sequential repetition in mm. 28–31 with mm. 32–
34; literal part exchange occurs after the first sequential repetition). As varied repetitions lead to the
26Horton reads the entire six-bar phrase as an antecedent, however, the composition of the antecedent is unanalyzed.
Ibid., 176.
156
eventual liquidation of melodic/motivic material, we find a blurring of boundaries between variation
and more conventional techniques of formal loosening.
Example 4.14: D. 959/i, Main Theme ⇒ Transition (mm. 24–36)
{
Transition (A′ ⇒ TR)
œœœœ
codettas ⇒ model
œœœ œœ. ˙˙˙ œœ # œ œ œ#œ .

## œ
24
œœ j ‰ Œ Œ œJ ‰
&#c œœ j
œœ
‰ Œ œ‰ ˙
J
œ Œ Ó œœœ
#œ œ.
œœœ. ˙>˙˙ œœœœœœœœ œ œ. >˙˙
cresc.
œ
f
? ###c œ Œ Œ œœœ j‰ J ‰ œ œœ œ Œ Ó
œ
j ‰ œ ‰ n˙
œ. J
œ.
{
sequence sequence
> . >
### ˙ nœ œ œ nœ œ œ œ. n>˙ bœ œ œ bœ œ œ nœ ‰ ##œœ ‰ #˙˙
29
& ˙ J ‰ Œ Œ nœJ. ‰ n˙ J #œJ n ˙

œ œ n œœ œœœ n œ. œ. >˙ n œ.
p
œ bn œœ œœ b œ .
? ### œœ #œœ nœ ‰ bn˙˙ œœ nœ bœ n œ b œ
Œ J ‰
f
J ‰ nœœ œ J ‰ Œ
J
{
sequence liquidation
# # œ œœ œœ #œœœ œœ. ‰ œj ‰ ˙˙ nœ. j j
33
œœ nœœ œœ œœ nnœœ ‰ #œœ ‰ œœ
& # œœ #œ nœ J œœ n˙ œ # œ nœ œ œ. œ.
. J
n œ.
? ### #˙
f
œ œ œ œ œ œ œj ‰ j ‰ Œ J ‰
nœ œ œ nœ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ j
> . œ. >˙ nœ
When main theme and transition material return in the recapitulation, they generally
correspond with the exposition; alterations in the A′ section continue to allude to the theme and
variation genre. Shown below in Example 4.15 is an added repetition of main theme material in the
reprise, one that begins as a minore variant. The varied repetition in minor initiates a move to the flat
side (F major, bVI) at which point correspondence with the exposition is regained. Emphasizing the
flat side in the recapitulation’s transition is a conventional move in sonata form: it offers a means to
generate harmonic activity in an otherwise non-modulating transition. While motion to the
subdominant is perhaps more typical, the choice of key (bVI) is representative of both Schubert’s
variation and sonata idioms.
157
Example 4.15: D. 959/i, A′ in Recapitulation (mm. 200–206)
Recapitulation
{
minore variation transition material
variation of A′
˙ œ n œ. ˙ œ œ. n œ
## j
200
œ. ˙ œ nœ ‰ ˙ œ œ nœ
bœ bœ œ œ
& # c nœœ ‰ œ ‰
J
J bœ œ
n œ.
˙™
? ###c ˙ ™
3 3
pp
n
˙˙ ™™
j j
œ ‰ œœ ‰ ˙
˙™
&
n œœ n ˙˙ nœœ bœœ
. œ.
{
nœ œ œ nœ ˙
### bbœœ nœ œ œ nœ ˙ n˙˙ nbbw
wœ œ œ ˙ nœœ nœ œ Œ
203
& ˙ œ Ó
3 pp
## n œ n œ œœ #nœœ œ œœ nn ˙˙˙
? œ
˙
b ˙˙ nnnœw
w
œ œ ˙ nnnœœœ
& # nœœ œœ Œ Ó
bœ 3
Subordinate Theme
The subordinate theme of D. 959/i is similar to the main theme in many respects. The bass ascent
and similar chord voicings recall aspects of the main theme.27 The two themes are also similar in
their use of variation. While the subordinate theme is not a tight-knit set of variations, elements of
variation are apparent in the treatment of thematic material.
The organization of the subordinate theme, comprising mm. 55–123, is highly
unconventional. I analyze the theme in dialogue with two theme types, compound sentence and
small ternary form, but as an extremely loose example of both. The loose small-ternary design of the
main theme offers a model against which the subordinate theme can be compared (and thus
understood). The subordinate theme is expected to comprise looser construction still, and in this
regard it does not disappoint. In the main theme, weakened, or perhaps absent, cadential
articulations inhibit a truly tight-knit construction. Both cadential articulation (or the absence thereof
when promised) and the insertion of a developmental episode play a role in the subordinate theme’s
loose construction.
The subordinate theme begins in E major, the subordinate key, with an antecedent phrase
(mm. 55–59, Ex. 4.16). The consequent phrase (mm. 59–63) is varied: it sounds an octave higher
27Fisk similarly finds the “stepwise ascending bass and accompanying thirds” as reminiscent of the main theme. He goes
on to quote other authors who have noticed the similarity between main and subordinate themes: “as Waldbauer and
Brendel have both recognized, the second theme is a new version of the first.” Fisk, Returning Cycles, 210.
158
and passes through an apparent minore version of the contrasting idea before modulating to the
major mediant, G, and ending with a bIII: HC. The lack of hierarchically weighted cadential
articulations negates a period construction in the A section. That is, by the half cadence in m. 63,
this phrase is no longer a consequent. Rather, a presentation phrase comprising two antecedents as
large-scale basic ideas is implied.
Example 4.16: D. 959/i, Variation in Subordinate Theme (mm. 55–72)
Subordinate Theme = small ternary? or, compound sentence?

A or compound
Subordinate presentation
Theme = loose small ternary?
A
antecedent
antecedent consequent varied
consequent, ⇒ antecedent
⇒ repeat of antecedent
{
bi ci bi ci
> œ # œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ̇ n
## œ œ œ ẇ nœ œ̇ œ n œœ nœœ ˙˙
55
œ#œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ
& # c ẇ #œ.
œ
œ.
œ
œ.
œ œ̇ œ ˙˙
œ.
œ̇ œ ˙
#˙ ˙˙ ‰
œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ œœ ˙˙

pp cresc. decresc. p
? ###c w
w œœ œœ ˙ ˙ œ #œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ n˙˙
˙ ˙ ‰ & œ œ œ ẇ œ. œ. œ. œ. nœ œœ nœœ œ n˙˙
w œ
G=: K^ q L J=: K ^ L
HC xKKK: HC !
{
B = contrasting middle
or continuation
new idea (variation of bi) new idea (repeated)
>. . .
# # ˙˙
64
&# œ œ œ
Ó nẇ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œÓœ œœ nœw œ œ nœ œ œ œ
## ‰ ? œ œ nœ œw œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ nœw œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ
& # ˙˙ œw œ
K^ Lt K^
ECP?
{
new idea (repeated, varied) cad ⇒ standing on the dominant
. . . . . .
## nœ œ œ
68
œ œ œ #œ œ #œ œ œ ˙ #œ
&# œ œœ œœ œœ nẇ œ œ œ w
œ œ œ
œ œ
cresc.
p
? ### nœw œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ #œ œ œ œ
œ œ
œ Œw œœ
œw œ j œ œ #œ
œ
Lt K^ . . . . G=: KKK^ L& lkko& ; lk
LK KL Lw
Following a presentation phrase we expect a continuation. And mm. 65–68 indeed convey
continuation function through the fragmentation of units from four- to two-bar groups and faster
surface rhythmic activity. Melodically, mm. 65–68 form a presentation phrase (based on a two-bar
new idea in mm. 65–66), implying a sententially-structured continuation phrase. What begins as
perhaps a varied, third repetition of the new idea in m. 69 instead takes on continuation function
(within an ongoing continuation). As the harmonic rhythm picks up in m. 70, driving towards the
159
dominant, we may hear mm. 69ff as continuation function becoming cadential (again) in m. 71—that
is, until harmonic progression is halted in m. 72 by a dominant prolongation comprising mm. 72–77.
It is what follows at m.78, a varied return of the basic idea sounding an octave lower, that in
retrospect strongly suggests a small ternary interpretation. While neither the contrasting idea nor a
cadential gesture appears (instead the material is intrinsically post-cadential in function, alternating
between I and V4/2) the minimum requirement for an A′ section is met: the basic idea returns.28
While the reprise is both compressed and lacking cadential closure, it nevertheless serves to recollect
the A section before an extended developmental episode ensues (mm. 82–116).
Similar to D. 958/i, parts of the exposition in D. 959/i are as, if not more, traditionally
developmental than the development section itself. This is due to the presence of developmental
episodes in the subordinate theme. In the subordinate theme of D. 959/i, a model is established
(mm. 82–85, elided with the sequential repetition comprising mm. 85–88) and sequenced three
times, moving down by major thirds so as to traverse the octave beginning on E (thus prolonging
the subordinate key throughout). The fourth sequential repetition, and the arrival back to E, leads to
fragmentation (one-bar units in mm. 92–94) and a return of material referencing the main theme’s B
section (mm. 95ff). From m. 82ff, given the intrinsic functionality of this passage, we could just as
easily be in the development section as opposed to the subordinate theme.29
A cadential progression in the subordinate key, beginning in m. 99, briefly reminds us that
we are still in the subordinate theme. The cadence is evaded, accompanied by a turn to the minor
mode in m. 101. What follows in mm. 101ff begins as a varied repeat of mm. 95–96, suggesting a
second attempt at achieving closure in the subordinate key. This varied repetition spawns yet
another passage of model-sequence technique (the model, mm. 101–2, is repeated down a third in
mm. 103–4), followed by fragmentation and liquidation, all of which is punctuated by a moment of
musical crisis—just over a measure’s worth of silence—in m. 112. This crisis marks the third failed
attempt at achieving cadential closure in the subordinate theme: first, a dissipated cadence occurs in
m. 72. when the penultimate dominant is achieved but, through its prolongation, becomes an
ultimate dominant; second, in m. 101 the cadence is evaded; and finally, in m. 112 it is abandoned
altogether.30 Following this moment of crisis, a varied return of m. 55ff (the introduction to the
28 “At the very least, the recapitulation must begin with the basic idea from the A section in the home key and end with a
perfect authentic cadence confirming that key.” Caplin, Classical Form, 81. While technically this reprise does not close
with a home-key PAC, the presence of post-cadential material stands in for cadential articulation; this interpretation is
especially plausible in this particular sonata form given the consistent lack of cadential articulation thus far.
29 In fact, because the post-cadential codetta rhetoric of mm. 78–82 is so strong, one could possibly hear the subsequent
passage as if it were the beginning of the development section.

30 On the dissipated cadence, see Caplin, “Beyond the Classical Cadence: Thematic Closure in Early Romantic Music,”
paper read at The Form Forum, University of Toronto (24 October 2013). Regarding the third, abandoned attempt at
160
subordinate theme) begins in m. 113. This third, and final statement of thematic material in the
subordinate theme brings the exposition to a close. A variation of the basic idea returns, expanded
to bring about a V: PAC in m. 123. This is the first, and only subordinate-key PAC in the
subordinate theme. A closing section follows, derived from (or, from the variation perspective,
referencing) the interior developmental episode.
The role of variation in the subordinate theme is not as apparent as in the subordinate theme
of D. 958/i. Yet elements of variation are integral to the theme’s construction. Varied returns of the
basic idea interspersed through the expanded subordinate theme serve as pillars supporting a form-
functional analysis (see Figure 4.2).31 In m. 78, a varied reprise helps contextualize formal functions
in mm. 55–82, suggesting a nested small ternary structure. The return of the same motivic material
in m. 113 initiates a retrospective reinterpretation regarding the status of mm. 82–112 (as more than
a developmental episode), and signifies through thematic reprise the large-scale ABA′ form used to
structure the entire subordinate theme.
Figure 4.2: D. 959/i, Nesting Formal Units in Subordinate Theme’s (Loose) Small Ternary
A B A′
(mm. 55–82) (mm. 82–112) (mm. 113–30)
A B A′
(mm. 55–64) (mm. 65–77) (mm. 78–82)
The subordinate theme in the recapitulation, mm. 237–305, is transposed to the home key
and corresponds with the exposition, developmental episodes and all. Following the subordinate
theme in the recapitulation is a coda that reprises the main theme, sounding up an octave and
compressed from its original form (from six to four measures). This varied reprise is followed by a
series of varied restatements exploring the range of the piano before returning thematic material to
its original register.32 Schubert’s tendency to book-end, or frame pieces with thematic material has
been interpreted as one of many gestures that depict, in music, the wanderer’s homecoming.33 We
cadencing, the cadential function of mm. 110–11, occluded by processes of fragmentation and liquidation, becomes clear
when compared to mm. 99–100: mm. 110–11 are a varied repetition of the cadential progression in mm. 99–100.
31 Horton similarly analyzes a ternary design (with nested small ternary in the A section). Horton, “The First Movement
of D. 959,” 178.
32 This is similar to the coda of D. 958/i, which also explores register through repetition before coming to an end.
33 “None the less, the B-flat major of the valedictory references to the main theme which bring the movement to its
close is most likely perceived as ‘home’ in its original, unaltered state, albeit one that is now understood as in some
161
might just as well think of this gesture in terms of variation, where it speaks to the composer’s
idiomatic variation practice. Thematic return in the coda of D. 959/i is reminiscent of many
variation sets in which the theme returns at the end, recontextualized by thematic transformation
(over the course of a variation set or, in this case, sonata form).
Elements of the subordinate theme’s seemingly unconventional construction are more
idiomatic to Schubert’s sonata forms than we realize. For example, the inclusion of developmental
episodes in a subordinate theme, suggesting a misplaced formal function, occurs in both D. 887/i
and D. 958/i.34 While scholars have noted such form-functional displacement in Schubert’s oeuvre,
its ramifications have yet to be fully theorized.35 In the development section, the importance of
variation to the sonata form’s construction re-emerges. Taken together, the functional displacement
observed in the subordinate theme and the use of variational logic to structure the development
section suggest a different set of relationships between the interthematic functions of exposition,
development, and recapitulation.
Development Section as Variation Set

The development section in D. 959/i relies heavily on variation as a means of altering restatements
in lieu of more typical, “developmental” loosening devices. While the treatment of thematic
restatement initially gives the impression of a core, techniques of variation overwrite core technique.
Rather than position the development “apart from the sonata discourse,” I contend that Schubert’s
development sections require a reformulation of that very discourse because of their paratactic
construction, given similar treatment in D. 958/i (and D. 960/i, elucidated in the following
section).36
A ten-bar development theme, derived from the cadential idea of the subordinate theme,
begins with a zero-module in m. 130b and ends in m. 140 (elided with its first repetition, see Ex.
4.17). The internal construction of this theme is similar to that of the subordinate themes of D.
810/i and D. 958/i, where varied repetitions of a phrase (of four-to-five bars) serve as the generative
source of material for the entire section. The first five measures end with an apparent half cadence
in E minor in m. 136. However, through the course of m. 135 what is first heard as a dominant
becomes the local tonic in mm. 136–39 (before returning to the local tonic, C major, in mm. 139–
degree false: a public rather than a private persona.” Nicholas Marston, “Schubert’s Homecoming,” Journal of the Royal
Musicological Association 125, no. 2 (2000), 267.
34 In fact, one could argue that D. 944/i and D. 810/i, as expanded sentential designs, hint at such construction, as we
can understand large-scale continuations as similar in nature to these developmental episodes.

35 E.g., Anne Hyland, “In Search of Liberated Time, or Schubert’s Quartet in G major, D. 887: Once More Between
Sonata and Variation,” Music Theory Spectrum 38, no. 1 (2016).

36 Horton, “The First Movement of D. 959,” 182.
162
40). Because the return to C is non-cadential, it reframes the apparent half cadence in m. 135, and
imparts characteristics of large-scale presentation function to the entire phrase in mm. 130b–40: a
cbi in mm. 130b–35, followed by a repetition (response) in mm. 135–40. Note, also, that nested
variation occurs in the repetition of the cbi. The contrasting idea is varied through melodic inversion
and partial part exchange. When the ten-bar theme is repeated and varied, we hear the arrival on B
major (m. 135) as a tonic arrival, mirroring the earlier home-key tonic arrival.
Example 4.17: D. 959/i, Development as Variations, Theme (mm. 130b–40)

Development = variations
“theme” = mm. 131–141
{
model? re-purposed from subordinate theme sequence?
130b >˙
œ œœœœ œ œ œ œ œ ˙˙ œœ#œ œ œ œ œœ ###˙˙˙
131
œœ œœœ œ œ œœ œœœ œ œ œœ
& c ˙˙ Ó œ #œ Ó
. .
dim. p dim.
? c œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
&œ œ œ œ œ
œ. œ. œ. œ. œœ. œœœ. œœœ. œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ #œœœ œœœ œœ œœ œœ
œ. œ. œ. œœœ œœ œœ nœœ
œ. œ. œ. œœœ #œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ ##œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
{
136 > œœ œ n œ œ œœ
#œ œ #œ #œ œ #˙ #œ œœ #œ nœ œ nœœ œœ œ œ œ #œœ nœœ ˙˙
137
œ #œ #œ œ ˙ #œœ œ ˙
& #˙
p
& ##œœ œœ œœ #œœ œœ œœ œœ ##œœ œœ œœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ nœœœ œœœ nœœ œœ œœ œœœ #œœ œœ œœ œœ
œ. œ. œ.
œœ
œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
œœ
œ. . . . . . . . . œ. œ. œ. . œ. œ. œ. œ. n œœœ. œœœ. nnœœ. œ œœ. œ œœœ. œœœ. œœœ. œœœ.
It bears mention that, at first, one might identify a five-bar model in mm. 130b–35 treated
sequentially in mm. 135–40, and thus assume the development begins with a core. However, as the
music progresses we realize that mm. 130b–40 are one thematic unit, not the first stage in a
developmental core. With the repetition of the presentation (mm. 130–40) beginning in m. 140, our
expectations for a core are thwarted. Rather, the treatment of thematic material in the development
is best understood from the perspective of variation.
Variation 1 is a tight-knit thematic variant comprising mm. 140–50. It sounds up an octave
and includes scalar embellishments (themselves derived from previous material, cf. beat two, m.
131). Variation 2 loosens the relationship between theme and variation, altering the harmonic
progression and varying the presentation through alterations in contour (mm. 151–52), melodic
inversion (m. 154), and role swapping (to left hand melody, right hand accompaniment). The
connection to earlier material is made through the retention of the theme’s structure, rhythm, and
textural features of the music.
Variation 3 is a minore variation. The theme’s basic idea returns in the minor mode with an
added inner voice in mm. 161–62 and a registral shift introduced in a “drum variant”
163
accompaniment. 37 Thematic material is further varied as the passage continues. New material
following the initial thematic return in m. 161 and alterations in contour in m. 162 give the
impression of the minore variant becoming a “new theme” (see mm. 161–73). This variation-cum-theme
is expanded via cadential evasion (m. 166 and m. 168 fail to realize a C-minor PAC). The passage
ends with a modulation to A minor; an elided IAC in m. 173 confirms this tonal move.
A varied repetition of the “new” theme begins in m. 173. In the context of the sonata form,
this variation becomes a retransition, and alterations are made accordingly; recognizable
correspondence with the “new” theme ends in m. 179, where the harmonic progression is altered so
as to arrive on the dominant of the home key. The home-key dominant, E, is subsequently
prolonged through m. 197 and the recapitulation begins in m. 198.
While expansion as witnessed in the development section of D. 959/i runs counter to what
we expect from a development section, it is worth noting that expansion, as a process in and of
itself, is considered a loosening device. And as the development variations progress, thematic
statements exhibit more elements of loose construction (beginning as early as variation 2, itself a
loose variant of thematic material). Thus, it is through variation rather than more quintessential
techniques of development that Schubert loosens the formal texture within the development. But
the development does not stand out for such loose construction. Rather, it bears striking
resemblance to the construction of many subordinate themes in Schubert’s oeuvre, for the
development is organized as a series of variations. Indeed, one could argue that the subordinate
theme in D. 959/i is more developmental than the development section itself.
D. 960/i
The first movement of the B-Flat Major Piano Sonata, D. 960/i, is one of the most-written-about
works by Schubert. Scholars have considered many aspects of the work. For example, Fisk explores
the foreboding trill in m. 8 and its ramifications on the sonata’s harmonic trajectory; Hyland
considers editorial practices—specifically, attempts of editors to impose a Beethovenian aesthetic on
the work; and Richard Cohn uses the sonata to demonstrate the applicability of neo-Riemannian
theory to the analysis of Romantic harmony.38 In my third and final case study, I demonstrate the
use of idiomatic variation techniques in D. 960/i as a means of deriving material, and the prevailing
aesthetic of variation conveyed through the organization of thematic material. Moreover, these full-
37 William E. Caplin, Analyzing Classical Form: An Approach for the Classroom (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013),
315.
38 Charles Fisk, “Schubert’s Last ‘Wanderer’: The Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960,” in Returning Cycles; Anne Hyland,
“Tautology or Teleology? Towards an Understanding of Repetition in Franz Schubert’s Instrumental Chamber Music,”
PhD diss. (King’s College, University of Cambridge, 2010); Richard Cohn, “As Wonderful as Star Clusters: Instruments
for Gazing at Tonality in Schubert,”19th-Century Music 22, no. 3 (1999).
164
movement analyses reveal the minimization of distinctions between large-scale formal units such as
exposition, development, and recapitulation in Schubert’s sonata forms.
Main Theme
The main theme of D. 960/i is in small ternary form.39 However, the theme can also be understood
as three varied statements of thematic material. Table 4.1 allows comparison of the two parsings: the
variation perspective and the small ternary reading. Both variations are differentiated through
harmonic variation and accompanimental gradatio.
Table 4.1: D. 960/i, Main Theme as both Small Ternary and Theme and Variation
Measure Number 1–18 19–35 36–48
Small Ternary Form A B A′
Theme and Variation Theme Variation 1 Variation 2
Compare the setting in the A section with the thematic variant in the B section (Ex. 4.18A
and B): the accompaniment is altered through the use of gradatio and, through thematic
reharmonization, sounds in G-flat major while retaining primary melodic pitches. The resulting shift
in scale position, from ^1 in the A section to ^3 in the B section, exemplifies an aesthetic of
variation as discussed by Adorno and Dahlhaus: in D. 960/i, the melody is presented “unchanged
yet in different light” by altering the surrounding harmonic context.40 The harmonic context chosen
for this varied restatement, G-flat major, is not a typical tonal move in sonata form.41 From the
perspective of variation, Schubert’s use of flat-six not only as a key area, but also as a means of
reharmonizing extant melodies can be understood as idiomatic to the composer’s treatment of
thematic repetition. Flat-six, as both a key and a chord, is especially common in this regard.
39 For a detailed discussion of the ways in which Schubert takes advantage of small ternary form so as to maximize
instances of varied thematic material, see Chapter 2.
Tiedemann (London, New York, and Calcutta: Seagull books, 2009), 32.
41 The extensive literature treating harmony in D. 960/i includes contributions from various methods of harmonic
analysis. See, e.g., Donald Francis Tovey, “Tonality,” Music & Letters 9 (1928), rpt. as “Tonality in Schubert,” in The Main
Stream of Music and Other Essays (New York, 1949); Nicholas Marston, “Schubert’s Homecoming,” Journal of the Royal
Musical Association 125, no. 2 (2000); Fred Lerdahl, Tonal Pitch Space (Oxford University Press, 2001), 114–115; David
Kopp, Chromatic Transformations in Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 29–32 and
189–90; Richard Taruskin, The Oxford History of Western Music: The Nineteenth Century, 5 vols, vol. 3 (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2005), 96–100; Byron Almén, A Theory of Musical Narrative (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University
Press, 2006), 139–161; Deborah Kessler, “Motive and Motivation in Schubert’s Three-Key Expositions,” in Structure and
Meaning in Tonal Music: Festschrift in Honor of Carl Schachter, ed. L. Poundie Burstein and David Gagné (Hillsdale, NY:
Pendragon Press, 2006).
165
Example 4.18A: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 9–13)
{
A
consequent phrase
˙™ œœ œœ ˙œ ™
9
b
˙˙ ™™
&b c œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ
œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œ ˙™ œœ
œ . .
. . . .
˙™ œ œ œ bœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ˙ œ œ œ œ œ
™
? bbc œœ œ œ œ œ
œœ œœ œœ œœ œ nœ œ œ
œ œ œ œ
Example 4.18B: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 20–23)
{
2
B
b˙ ™
^ ^
14 1⇒3 20
b bœ bœ
&b Ó Œ œ œ bœ œ œ
pp
? bb bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ
r bœ
˙™ b ˙ ™
œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ
œnœbœ œ bœ
.
{
Jx=: K (ped)
b œ. œ. œ bœ b˙ ™
22
œ
&b
? b œ bœ œ œ
œ
œ œ
œ
œ œ
œ
œ b œ
œ
œ œ
œ
œ œ
œ
œ
b bœ œ œ œ bœ œ œ
Example 4.19 illustrates the continued use of variation techniques in the B section up to the
thematic reprise (A′) beginning in m. 36. Gradatio occurs in the melody in m. 27, varying repetitions
of material within the B section: mm. 27–28 equal mm. 26–27, which in turn equal mm. 24–25, and
yet another durational decrease occurs m. 29. The use of gradatio in this passage creates a sense of
energy; however, any sense of formal loosening imparted in mm. 27–30 is purely rhetorical. The
passage is phrase-structurally and harmonically stable. What follows in mm. 31–35 demonstrates the
blurring of boundaries between techniques associated with variation and development: thematic
restatements altered through gradatio become liquidated; processes of variation thus morph into
compositional techniques more typical of “developmental” formal loosening.
166
Example 4.19: D. 960/i, Variation Techniques in Main Theme (mm. 26–36)
B = Contrasting Middle
{
melodic gradatio ⇒ sixteenths
œ bœ bœ bœ œ bœ nœ œ bœ œ œ œ œ
26
b œ œ
& b c œ œ bbœœ bœ
œ
bœ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ nœ œ bœ œ bœ œœœœnœœœ
bœ
pp
? bc œbœ œ œœ œbœœ œb œ œ bœœœ œbœœ r œbœœ œ œ œœ rœœœœœ œœ r b œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ r œ œ œ œ œ œ œ r œbœœ œ œ œ œ r œœœœ œœœ

b bœ bœ œ œ œ bœ. œ. bœ. œ. bœ. œ.
{
⇒ liquidation
bœ œ bœ œ
b œ bœ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ n œ œ œ n œ œ œ bœ œ œ nœ bœ œ œ nœ œ œ œ n œ œ œ bœ œ œ
30
& b nœ bœ œ œ nœ œ œ œ
œ bœ œ
? b r œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ r œ œ œ œ œ œ œ r œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ r œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
b bœ œ. bœ. bœ.
.
{
A′
33
b
3
& b bœ œ œbœ œbœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ. œœ œœ œœ œ

œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ œœœœ
œœ n œœ œœ œœ œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œ
œœ
œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ
œœ
œ. œ. œ. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ
cresc. f
acc. gradatio
. . . .
? bb bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ. œ œ œ œ œ œ
3
œbœœ œœ œœ bbœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ nœœ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
bœ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. bœ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ œ
Lw KKw?
over V pedal
or still V?
The B section ends with a dominant arrival on the last beat of m. 35 that is, in many
performances, accompanied by a ritardando (perhaps in order to increase the amount of time spent
on dominant harmony before beginning the thematic reprise—one beat is quite short). As such, the
reprise continues over a dominant pedal for three measures (mm. 36–38), as if to make up for the
lack of dominant harmony in preparation for a return to the home key in A′. This subtle variation in
chordal inversion not only blurs boundaries between sections, conflating ending with beginning
between B and A′ because the dominant established at the end of B carries through into the
thematic reprise, but also imparts variation into the reprise itself (the A section employs a tonic
pedal), which is further varied by accompanimental gradatio.
167
Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme Group
Beginning with the reprise of the main theme in m. 36, formal functions in the exposition of D.
960/i become highly contested. Scholars disagree on how to parse interthematic functions: where,
exactly, do the transition and subordinate theme begin and end? Examining three recent
interpretations of this passage reveals three different readings: René Rusch locates transition
function in mm. 45–47 (following a deceptive cadence in m. 45), followed by subordinate theme 1
beginning in m. 48; Janet Schmalfeldt has suggested a situation in which A′ ⇒ transition, thus
locating the beginning of transition function in m. 36; Brian Black, like Rusch, locates transition
function in m. 45, however, he reads a deflected, rather than deceptive, cadence in m. 45 and
analyzes transition function operating through m. 80, at which point the subordinate theme begins.42
Rusch and Black identify contradictory formal functions, transition and subordinate theme, in the
same passage (mm. 48–80). For Rusch (among others), the modulation away from the home key
accomplished prior to m. 48, and the articulation of a PAC in m. 58 solidifying the second of three
keys in a three-key exposition, suggest subordinate theme function. For analysts like Black, hesitant
to acknowledge the onset of subordinate theme function prior to the arrival of the subordinate key,
the F-major passage in m. 80 accrues subordinate theme status. I propose an interpretation in which
both transition and subordinate theme function are operative in mm. 48–99 and in which neither one
becomes the other (in a Beethovenian-Hegelian dialectical sense). Rather, it is the musical features to
which one attends that emphasize one function over another (as such, I use ⇔, following Nathan
Martin and Steven Vande Moortele, to denote the presence of both functions throughout the
passage).43
In the transition-cum-subordinate theme group, variation is prominent in the treatment of
repetition. Following the first statement of thematic material in mm. 49–58 (Ex. 4.20) that can be
understood as subordinate theme 1, variation comes to the fore as the primary means of deriving
material. The “theme” itself is a ten-bar periodic hybrid (cbi + consequent) that modulates from F-
42 René Rush, “Schubert’s Four-Key Expositions? Another Look at The Composer’s Sonata Form Practice Through a
Form Functional Analysis of D575, i (1817), and D667, ii (1819),” paper read at EuroMAC in Leuven, Belgium, (20
September 2014); Janet Schmalfeldt proposed her interpretation during the question period of Rusch’s talk; Brian Black,
“Schubert’s ‘Deflected-Cadence’ Transitions and the Classical Style” in Formal Functions in Perspective: Essays on Musical
Form from Haydn to Adorno, ed. Steven Vande Moortele, Julie Pedneault-Deslauriers, and Nathan John Martin (Rochester,
NY: University of Rochester Press, 2015), 190.
43 For more on the analytical use of ⇔, see Nathan Martin and Steven Vande Moortele, “Formal Functions and
Retrospective Reinterpretation in the First Movement of Schubert’s String Quintet,” Music Analysis 33, no. 2 (2014),
147–48.
168
sharp minor to A major, ending with a III: PAC in m. 58. Four variations on the “theme” comprise
the first half of subordinate theme two (a two-part subordinate theme).44
Example 4.20: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme (mm. 48–58)

Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme
= Variations
“Theme” (= periodic hybrid)
{
cbi
bi ci (expanded)
# # œ. . . . . . . . . œ
48
œ œ œ œ œœœœœœœœœœœœ #œ œ œnœœ œœ
& # c œœJ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œ#œœœœœ ‰ œœœ œœœ ‰ œ œ
œ˙ ™ œ˙ ™
pp
œj œœj
ff p
œj œ ‰ œ
cresc.
? ###c j ‰ Œ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ
Œ J ‰ J nœ
œ.
H-:
{
consequent
bi
# # œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ
52
œ œ œ œ œ œœœœœœœœœœœœ
& # ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ‰ œœœ œœœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ
œ˙ ™
pp
? ### œœ œœ œœ œ
nœ
˙
n˙
œ
#œ
œœ œj œœj œœ œ˙ ™ œj œ ‰ œ
J ‰
decresc.
J
no cad
{
ci (expanded)
œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ j
##
56
#œ œ œ nœœ œœ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œœœ
& # œ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œ#œœ œœœ ‰ œœœ œœœ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ ‰ œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ
‰ œ œ œ œ œ œJ ‰
cresc.
. .
œœ œ œ
decresc.
œ œ œœ œœ œ œ ˙
? ### œ œ nœ œ nœ ˙
A=: K Lr ; lk
kk L& K
PAC
In analyzing interthematic variations a question arises: what is the appropriate hierarchical

level for analysis? Is it at the level of theme-type (ca. eight bars) or phrase (ca. four)? On the one
hand an argument can be made for an initial eight-bar group, as mm. 59–66 correspond roughly with
the original theme (minus the extensions in mm. 53 and 58). On the other hand, we can give
primacy to the four-bar cbi, given the lack of cadential articulation in m. 66. I analyze this passage at
44Or, alternatively, mm. 49–58 could be analyzed as part one of a two-part transition. While my prose suggests certain
form-functional interpretations, the ambiguity of this passage—containing intrinsic markers of both transition and
subordinate theme—remains the focal point of my analysis.
169
the four-bar level, tracing alterations in the cbi from m. 58ff, because attending to the phrase level
intensifies the processual nature of concatenating, varied, thematic repetitions.
The variations are structured sententially beginning in m. 59 (Ex. 4.21), and employ both
tight-knit and loose variation construction. The first variation (cbi) in mm. 59–62 is an example of
tight-knit construction, as is the second variation (cbi, repeated) in mm. 63–66. The third variation,
mm. 67–73 (continuation), loosens the formal texture through loose variation and phrase-structural
construction, bringing about myriad form-functional ambiguities. This variation modulates from A
major to the dominant, F major; employs a new idea (derived from what begins as a varied repeat of
the basic idea in m. 67); structurally alters the four-bar cbi to a presentation phrase; and is expanded
to seven measures. The fourth and final variation, mm. 74–80, is yet another example of loose
variation construction. It is elided with a half cadence in the subordinate key, articulated on the
downbeat of m. 74, and continues over a standing on the dominant.45 While variation 4 retains the
structure of a presentation apparent in variation 3, the function of this final variation is entirely post-
cadential. Melodic material is altered, giving the appearance yet again of a new idea. Variation 4 is
also expanded from the original four-bar version to comprise six measures of standing on the
dominant that ultimately bring this section to a close.
Example 4.22 summarizes the loose variation set, illustrates variation as a thematic process
in the transition ⇔ subordinate theme section, and highlights the use of idiomatic variation
techniques put forth in Chapter 2. The first variations in the set evolve through incremental changes,
subject to partial part exchange (variation 1), melodic diminutions/figurations (variation 2), and
pitch reharmonization (variation 2). As variations concatenate they accrue elements of previous
variations: such inter-variational references—again, a hallmark of Schubert’s variation practice—
further explore and exploit slight alterations introduced in previous variations (see variations 3 and
4, both of which incorporate double-dotted quarters and 32nd notes, and have the same
presentational structure). Moreover, varied restatements begin to develop thematic material, creating
something new from something familiar.46 See, for example, variation 3, which alters contour and
introduces figuration to create a new idea (while retaining a varied first measure of the original basic
idea). Taken together these four varied statements of a thematic four-bar cbi comprise the bulk of
form-functionally ambiguous material in the transition ⇔ subordinate theme.
45 I will return to the cadential articulation in m. 74 to further discuss my analysis of a V: HC in m. 74, as opposed to a
V: PAC in m. 80 (the more common interpretation) in greater detail.

46 Compare the treatment of thematic material here with the notion of developing variations (as it relates to loose
variation procedures) discussed in Chapter 3.

170
Example 4.21: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme (mm. 57–73)
Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme
= Variations
Variations
{
cbi
bi
j
# # œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œnœ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œœ
57
œ œ™ œ œ. ‰ œ j
& # c ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœœœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœJ ‰ J J œ™ œ #œ. ‰ œœ
J
. . . . .
? ###c œœ œœ œœ œ ˙ œœ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
nœ ˙
legato
{
cbi (repeated)
ci bi (varied)
## œnœ œ œ œ. ‰ œ œ œ œ œ#œj ‰ œ
61
œœœ œœ œ œ œ œ
& # #œœ œœ œœ
œ œ nœœ #œœ nœœ J
œ
. œ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? ### œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ #œ œ nœ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
{
expanded cbi (repeated, x3!)
ci (varied) bi (varied ⇒ new idea)

bi (varied)
œœœ œœœ ™™™ œœœ œœœ™™™ œœ œœ ™™™ œœ œœ ™™™

.
œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœœ ™™™
œ œ œ œnœ nœ œ œ œ œJ ‰ œ œ
## fij
& # #œœ ™™
œfij
65
œœ nœœœ œ™™ œ œ. ‰ œ
œ nœ œ #œ œ RJ
cresc. p
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? ### œ œ œ #œ œ œ nœ #œ nœ œ œ nœ nœ œ œ œ œ œ
cbi ⇒ presentation? or, expansion of cbi? continuation?

2 or, expansion of cbi through interploation?
{
new
biidea (repeated!)
(repeated!) or, ci? (expanded, modulating)
“” œ œ
œ œ œ œ œ
# # œ™™ œ œ œ œ
69
&# œ œ.
R J ‰ œ bb œ œ œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ
œ
œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœ œœœ
cresc.
œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œ œ
? ### œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ
bb
Sx=: L(ped)
{
premature dominant arrival presentation
bi (varied)
bn w œ
72
& b nw œ nœ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ™™ œ œ.

R J ‰
J
decresc. pp
œ œ
? b œ nœ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ bœ œ œ œ #œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ
b
H=: L(ped)
HC T
171
Example 4.22: D. 960/i, Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme, Basic Idea Variants
Variation as thematic process in Transition ⇔ Subordinate Theme
{
Theme
##œ œ œ œ œ œ
œœ œ‰ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
49
&# ‰ œœ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ œœ œœ ‰ ‰ ‰
œ™ œj ˙œ ™
j
œj
pp
œ
? ### œ ˙ œœ ‰ œœ œ ‰
J J
Hv-:
{
Variation 1 = partial part exchange, acc. gradatio, transposition, reharmonization
##œ j
59
œ™ œ œ.
&# J J ‰ œ œ™ œ
J
#œ. ‰
œ. œ. œ. bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? ### nœ œ œ
legato
A=: ct o& K
{
Variation 2 = melodic diminution (+ figuration), pitch reharmonization
##œ œ nœ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ #œj
63
œ
& # nœœ J
‰ œ œ
. ‰
œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? ### œ œ œ nœ œ œ
A=: K ct o& K
Variation 3 = melodic diminution, pitch reharmonization, contour (creates “new material” in m. 68)
{
2
.
œ œ œ œnœ nœ œ œ œ œJ
##œ fij
œfij
67
œ™™ œ œ.
& # nœœ R J ‰ œ ‰
p
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ
? ### œ nœ nœ œ œ œ
A=: lkko& ; kl^
{
Variation 4 = transposition, figuration, contour (m. 74), reharmonized (dominant pedal), inter-variational reference
œŸ™~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ™™ œ œ.
b œ œ. nœ œ œœ™™
74
œ
& b œ™™ R J ‰ œ œ ‰
R J
œ œ œ œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
? bb œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
H=: L (ped)
172
Ultimately it is elements of variation—expanding mm. 48–80, a familiar use of variation in
Schubert’s sonata forms—combined with tenuous (at best) cadential articulation following the main
theme’s A′ and the tonal trajectory of the passage itself, that problematize the interthematic function
of the group. On the one hand, attending to variations imparts a sense of phrase-structural stability,
as repetitions of the four-bar phrase form a compound sentence. Moreover, this process resembles
the treatment of thematic material in subordinate themes from Schubert’s other sonata forms.47
Although the passage does not begin in the dominant, it begins in F-sharp minor, enharmonically
flat-six in relation to the home key, it is not out of the question for a subordinate theme to begin in a
key other than the subordinate key (see, for example, D. 887/i, D. 944/i, or D. 956/i).48 These
factors suggest subordinate theme function.
On the other hand, attending to domains such as harmony and mid-level grouping structures
suggests transition function. The modulation from F-sharp minor to F major occurring over the
course of the passage imparts tonal instability (and, as I argue in Chapter 3, modulation is more
important to transition function in Schubert’s sonata forms than it is to Caplin’s theorization of
transition function). The employment of variation techniques (gradatio) can be construed in Caplinian
terms as a loosening device (faster surface rhythm) that serves to destabilize. Moreover, attending to
the eight-bar level reveals phrase-structural compression: the passage begins with a ten-bar theme
(mm. 48–58) that is followed by varied repetition of eight measures (mm. 59–66), followed by a
seven-bar phrase (mm. 67–73) and finally a six-bar phrase (mm. 74–79). Again, these factors indicate
transition function. Thus it is the parameters we attend to, as listeners and analysts, which shape the
way we perceive this passage. While the musical domain we prioritize will emphasize one form-
functional interpretation over another, it will not negate the presence of the other. Thus, transition
does not become subordinate theme function, nor does subordinate theme overwrite transition
function.
While the influence of variation is evident through the end of the exposition, the final
section (mm. 80–116) continues to challenge form-functional analysis: Rusch identifies this as a
closing section, Black as the subordinate theme.49 I offer a third option, analyzing a V: HC in m. 74
(rather than a V: PAC in m. 80). Taken together mm. 72–74 form a half-cadential progression:
predominant function comprises mm. 72–73, through the course of which an applied diminished-
seventh chord becomes an applied dominant on the last beat of m. 73 (to C, the dominant of F),
47 I would also argue that in hearing this passage as variations we are inclined to hear a tight-knit structure, associating
variation with additive structures rather than the dynamic qualities of a sonata form—especially a transition.
48 For more on modulating subordinate themes see Caplin, Classical Form, 119–21.
49 René Rusch, “Schubert’s Four-Key Expositions”; Black, “Schubert’s Apprenticeship in Sonata Form: The Early String
Quartets,” (Ph. D. Dissertation, McGill University, 1996), 257.

173
before resolving to C as V of F, acting as an ultimate dominant on the downbeat of m. 74. The
subsequent five-bar expansion of dominant harmony in mm. 74–79 contains rhetoric more typical
of post-cadential function than prolongational (of a penultimate dominant).50 As such, I read mm.
74–79 as a standing on the dominant, and thus analyze mm. 80–116 as the second half of a two-part
subordinate theme that, rhetorically, sounds like a closing section.51 A subordinate-key PAC in m. 99
delineates the subordinate theme from the closing section proper. Example 4.23, below,
demonstrates the use of literal part exchange to vary thematic restatement: a sentential phrase in
mm. 80–85 is repeated—varied, and extended—beginning in m. 86, leading a subordinate-key PAC
in m. 99, and so ends the second subordinate theme.
Example 4.23: D. 960/i, Subordinate Theme Two (mm. 80–81, 86–87)
{
Subordinate Theme
Closing Section (Part 2), withTheme
⇒ Subordinate CS rhetoric
œ œ. œ. œ œ. .
bc œ . œ. œ œ œ. . . œ.
80
b . œ.
œ œ œ .
œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ
& œ. . .
.
p
œ œœ b œœ œœ œœ œœ
? bbc œœ Œ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ Œ œ ‰ œ ‰
J J J J
{
œœ bœœœ œœœ œœœ œœ
86
b
& b œœœ Œ œ
J
‰
J
‰ Œ
J
‰ J ‰
p
œ œ. œ œ. .
?bœ œ. œ œ œ œ œ. . . œ.
b . œ. œ œ. œ. œ. œ. . œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ
. .
50 While m. 79 does sound cadential, we can also read the right hand as melodic fill, foreshadowing the melodic triplet
arpeggiations so prominent throughout the second half of the transition ⇔ subordinate theme.
51 Caplin’s description of a two-part subordinate theme befits D. 960/i: “in the exposition, an internal half cadence and
standing on the dominant often serve to emphasize the dominant harmony of the subordinate key, especially if the
previous transition is non-modulating,” Caplin, Classical Form, 169. D. 960/i is an admittedly more complex scenario, for
the preceding transition can also be read as a subordinate theme.
174
Throughout this exposition variation techniques, as compositional techniques, play a crucial
role in the derivation of material. The main theme can be read as a series of relatively tight-knit
variations; the transition ⇔ subordinate theme demonstrates both tight-knit and loose variation
construction; and repetitions of thematic material in the second half of the transition ⇔ subordinate
theme are altered via variation techniques. What is more, attending to interactions between variation
and intrinsic formal function reveals a complex commingling of functions in the middle of the
exposition.
Recapitulation
Variation techniques are employed to vary restatements of material in the recapitulation of D. 960/i.
Four changes in the main theme worth noting are as follows: (1) tonic is prolonged in the bass for
the first six-and-a-half measures (one measure longer than in the exposition). This slight alteration
strengthens motion to the dominant in m. 222 and suggests a half cadence (as opposed to the
exposition, in which the premature dominant arrival troubles cadential articulation at this moment in
the A section). (2) The B section is expanded, including a sequential repetition of mm. 235–38 in
mm. 239–42. The resulting compound presentation is now balanced in relation to the extended
continuation-like phrase. (3) Harmonic alterations trouble the arrival of dominant harmony in m.
254 (= m. 36), and thus problematize the ending of the B section: it is rare for a B section to end
with tonic arrival. This apparent tonic harmony (with a B-flat pedal in the bass) replaces the
dominant, and continues into A′. (4) Right-hand material is re-voiced in A′ so as to begin the return
on ^3. This change references thematic variants in C-sharp minor (development) and G-flat major
(exposition/recapitulation B section), reconciling these variants within a home-key thematic
statement (see Ex. 4.24).
Example 4.24: D. 960/i, Recapitulation, A′ Variation (mm. 254–55)
Recapitulation
{
B = Contrasting Middle A′
254
b
& b c ##œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ nœœœ œœœ œœœ œ
œœ œœ
œ
œœ œœ
œ
. . . . . . . . . . . . œ
.
f
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
? bc nœœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ nœœœ œœœ œœœ œ œ œ œ œ œ
œœ œœ œ œ œ œ œ
b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
L& ; kkk K K (ped)

175
The first and second halves of the transition ⇔ subordinate theme return, transposed to the
home key, and retain both their original form-functional ambiguity and characteristics of variation.
The sonata form ends with a coda referencing the main theme, a familiar framing device (e.g., D.
959/i). There are notable similarities between Schubert’s use of this framing function in sonata form
and the return of a theme at the end of a variation sets. As a reference to the main theme in a
parageneric space, this technique recontextualizes thematic material through its location, both formal
(for the first time not in the sonata form proper) and temporal (a reference to the main theme, not
an exact return, acknowledges the transformations of thematic material over the course of the sonata
form).
Development
The treatment of thematic material throughout the development section of D. 960/i recalls features
of both D. 958/i and D. 959/i. Varied repetitions (of a phrase) come to the fore as a means of
developing thematic material, reinforcing this practice as idiomatic to Schubert’s sonata forms, and
reframing the role of the development section (if not of the form writ large). In Schubert’s sonata
forms the development does not contrast with the exposition and recapitulation in terms of the
nature and treatment of thematic material. Rather, all three large-scale formal units derive material
through processes of variation, and not only contain repetitions of thematic material but also
employ variation techniques to alter such repetitions. Indeed, variation techniques and other, more
traditional components of development function appear in development sections as well as
expositions and recapitulations (see, for example, the developmental episodes of D. 959/i, D. 958/i,
or D. 887/i). Displaced markers of intrinsic functionality further blur the boundaries between
interthematic functions.
From the outset of the development we encounter variation techniques. My first example
(Ex. 4.25) illustrates the repurposing of material: thematic material from the exposition’s first two
large-scale formal units (main theme, and transition ⇔ subordinate theme) is combined, repurposed
and reconfigured, to form a fourteen-bar compound sentence. The development, beginning as a
varied restatement of the main theme, implies distributed variation construction: main theme
material returns in mm. 118b–21 transposed to C-sharp minor; is functionally altered to form a cbi;
the contrasting idea is varied through diminution and figuration; and the bass pedal is removed. This
variation also plays with scale degree function: the melody begins on ^3 while retaining the contour
of the main theme, which began on ^1.
176
Example 4.25: D. 960/i, Variation in Development, Repurposing (mm. 118b–31)
Development
Pre-Core (= MT, TR, S)
Compound sentence?
presentation
{
cbi cbi repeated (sequential)
bi ci (varied) bi ci
## œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ œnœ œnœ œ œ
œnœ œ œ
˙™
117
& # #c œ œ œ œ œnœ œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ nœ
118b
œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ
œ œ œ œ œ
p
nœ œ œ œ
? ####c œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ
continuation cad cad (“OMT”)

cad (repeated)
fr fr
{
or
beginning of model
n˙ ™ œ >œ ™ >œ ™
#### n˙ ™ œ œj ‰ œ nœ œ œ #œ n˙ ™
œœ œ œ œ. .
œ œ œ œ œ #œ
125
œ™
124
œ œ™ œ œ œ. .
# œ n˙ ™
& œœ‰ œ œJ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œœ œ
JJ . œ. œ. œ. œ. .
fp p
œ nœ œ #œ œ #œ œ
? #### œ œ œ œ nœ #œ œ #œ#œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙˙ j
œ. ‰ œJ. ‰
#œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
Dv-: k^ xKK^ Lwyyq xKK^ k^ kkO^

kl Lw & LK K {A=}
evaded evaded
and, RH elided?
However, the main theme variant charts a new course in m. 122, as the first cbi is
sequentially repeated. Taken together, mm. 118b–25 comprise a (compound) presentation phrase.
The subsequent continuation repurposes transition ⇔ subordinate theme material. My analysis
offers two options for grouping mm. 126–27: the upper level brings out fragmentation while the
lower level depicts a hearing that retains the two-bar grouping structure established in the
presentation phrase (and in its original context). Regardless of grouping, faster harmonic rhythm
conveys continuation function. This function is extended through cadential evasion, prompting a
177
second attempt at the cadence (what Schmalfeldt has dubbed a “one more time” technique).52 As in
the bifurcated cadence in the subordinate theme of D. 944/i (see Chapter 3, Ex. 3.20), the upper
voice completes the resolution to tonic, C-sharp, but this arrival is reharmonized in A on the
downbeat of m. 132. Thus, the bass line evades cadencing (again) while the upper voice completes
the cadential progression. This entire passage, from mm. 118b–31, summarizes the exposition by
repurposing material and through variation; altering the presentation of thematic material, formal
functions are changed. These alterations in formal functions can be understood as an
unconventional process of formal loosening.
A potential core begins with a large-scale model in m. 131; an IAC in m. 140 is elided with
the onset of a sequential repetition. The repurposing of expositional material continues throughout
this passage, as the model is derived from the closing section ⇒ subordinate theme. The model-
sequence structure (mm. 140–49) is suggestive of a core; however, other markers of a developmental
core are absent. There is no fragmentation, no foreshortening or sequencing of smaller units.53 In
the place of these devices—techniques associated with the intrinsic function of development—we
find other organizational strategies. Specifically, variation comes to the fore as a primary
compositional tool, as mm. 149–86 comprise variations on a “new” theme (derived through further
repurposing of closing section ⇒ subordinate theme material). These variations employ extension as
a loosening device.
Material from the left hand (mm. 135–49) becomes melodic beginning in m. 150, and
initiates a four-bar phrase (new idea + ci = cbi), every repetition of which is subject to variation (see
Ex. 4.26). The first repetition, mm. 155–58, begins as an exact repetition of mm. 150–54, suggesting
an eight-bar group. This repetition is altered so as to end an (enharmonic) minor third higher, on E.
The third statement (second repetition), mm. 159–62, is varied through the idiomatic techniques of
partial part exchange and diminution (in the final bar). That the second repetition is in E suggests
“sequence,” but this is not borne out: the fourth statement begins in m. 163, on C, down a third
(negating the potential for harmonic sequence) and is liquidated prior to the onset of a stable
passage comprising material based on mm. 150–54.
Throughout mm. 150–72 (just as in mm. 131–49), concatenated repetitions initially give the
impression of a core. We expect the repetition of m. 150ff in m. 155 to be sequential; however, it is
not. While the repetition beginning in m. 159 satisfies the criteria for sequential repetition, the model
is already fragmented: it is only four bars long and leads to another repetition. While vestiges of core
52 Janet Schmalfeldt, “Cadential Processes: The Evaded Cadence and the ‘One More Time’ Technique,” Journal of
Musicological Research 12, nos. 1–2 (1992).

53 While there is one element of core technique, the model-sequence passage, this is not enough to justify the presence
of a core comprising the development of D. 960/i.

178
technique manifest throughout this passage (e.g., allusions to model-sequence technique,
fragmentation, and liquidation) they are secondary to ongoing processes of variation. That is, this
development section is more about variation than it is about core technique.
Example 4.26: D. 960/i, Variation in Development (mm. 148–63)
Development
{
Core? Core 2?
expands model
extension
. .
œ bœ b œœ bœ nœ œ b œ b œ. œ. .
new idea (= mm. 130–131 acc.) ci
148
œ j j
147
b bœ œ œ œ bœbœ j .
&b c œ œ œ . œ. bœ ∑ œ. ‰bœ. ‰ ˙ bœ. ‰ œJ ‰ œbœ œ bœ œ œ œ nœ
. b ˙˙ Œ œ œ œ
p . .
.. .
cresc. ff pp
? bc j ‰ bœ. ‰ j ‰ j ‰ b˙ ™ bœ œ bb ˙˙˙
b ˙™ bœ Œ
b˙™
b œ. J nœ bœ. Œ bœ ∫œ
. b œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. b œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
{
new idea (repeated), varied ci
j j j j
154
153
b
& b bw
w œ. ‰ bœ. ‰ bœ. ‰ nœ. ‰ œ #œ#nœœ œ œœ œ œœ ‹œ n#w
w
Œ . .
˙
?b bb ˙˙˙ bn˙˙ Œ
nœ nœ nœ #œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ‹œ œ nœ
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n œ œ # œœ œ œ œ œ œ n ˙ ™
b bœ nœ œ∫œ œ œ œ œ œ
b ˙™ nœ bœ∫œ bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ
Œ . . . . . . . . Œ
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
{
new idea (repeated),
new idea (repeated), varied ci
ci (⇒liquidation?) varied, ⇒ liquidation
158
158
b j œ. œ. œ.
& b nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ nœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ #œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ n œœ œœ nœœ œœ n œœœ
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
p
?b j ‰ j ‰ j j
b
n˙ #œ. nœ. n˙ œ. ‰ œ. ‰ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ
nœ œ nœ nœ n œ œ œ œ œ ˙˙
Following liquidation in mm. 165–73 is a varied return of material from mm. 150ff. This
varied return threatens to negate all of the “developmental work” of mm. 163–73, not only returning
to earlier material but also in restoring a sense of tight-knit thematic construction. Here, near the
end of the development—where we expect to find the most formally-loose section of the sonata
form, in perhaps the most tonally distant key—are two tight-knit variations of thematic material,
sounding in D minor (the relative minor). The first thematic variant in mm. 172–79 employs partial
part division, returning the melody to the right hand. The “new idea” is expanded to three bars (mm.
174–76) and is followed by a contrasting idea referencing mm. 161–62. The entire six-bar unit is
repeated in mm. 179–85 and varied through literal part exchange. What is more, following m. 185,
the “foreboding” trill reappears in m. 186, a harbinger of the main theme material about to
179
materialize. And indeed, a varied return of the main theme’s antecedent (still in D minor) begins in
m. 188. Statements of this antecedent, alternating between D-minor and B-flat major versions,
comprise mm. 188–203 (Ex. 4.27), leading to an arrival on the dominant (seventh) harmony of the
home key that is prolonged through m. 215, at which point the recapitulation proper begins.54
Example 4.27: D. 960/i, Development, Variations of Main Theme (mm. 188–97)

Development
{
Main Theme in D minor
b œ
188
œ nœ œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ nœ œ
&b c Œ Œ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ
. . . .
b
& b c œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ bœœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœ œœ œœ œœn œœ œœ n œœ œœ # œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ Ó ?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . n œ. œ. b œ. b œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. . . . .
{
Main Theme in B-flat Major
192 œ œ œ œ œ ˙™ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ œ
b
& b œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ Œ
œ. œ. œ. œ.
Œ
. . . . . . . . ppp
decresc.
? bb j‰ Œ &œ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ bœœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ
n œfi
j
w r
nœ b œ
œœ
. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ÿ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the sonata perspective, the return of main theme material so close to the recapitulation
is a faux pas—especially given that some statements also sound in the home key.55 However, from
the perspective of variation we can understand this retransition as variationally motivated. Instead of
a harmony-driven process of retransition to prepare the listener for the recapitulation, Schubert
takes a thematic-oriented approach to bridging the gap between development and recapitulation:
main theme material prepares the return of the home key and subsequent recapitulation.
***
54 Donald Francis Tovey, Charles Fisk, and William Kinderman (among others) note this premature return of thematic
material—especially the statements in the home key—as being “on” rather than “in” the tonic (B-flat major). Tovey,
“Schubert,” in Essays and Lectures on Music (London: Oxford University Press, 1949), 119; Fisk, Returning Cycles, 253;
Kinderman, “Franz Schubert’s ‘New Style’ and the Legacy of Beethoven,” in Rethinking Schubert, ed. Lorraine Byrne
Bodley and Julian Horton (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 55.
55 I argue that, rather than hear these statements of the main theme in B-flat major as the home key, we hear them as
bVI in relation to d-minor.

180
To say that Schubert’s sonata forms are not teleological, a critique found in the literature, is to imply
that they fail as sonata forms due to a lack of the quintessential characteristics of thematic
development driving the narrative trajectory of a sonata form: the tonal/phrase-structural drama
epitomized in the development section.56 Indeed, while the development sections studied in this
chapter contrast with the exposition and recapitulation, neither the phrase-structural or harmonic
contrast is pronounced in comparison to those sections (given Schubert’s extended tonal language
and form-functional displacement).57 Further troubling the identity of the development section are
developmental episodes in expositions and recapitulations found throughout Schubert’s sonata
idiom (e.g., D. 959/i and D. 887/i). Therefore, my examples problematize both the
variation/development binary (in terms of compositional techniques appropriate to sonata form) as
well as our inherited expectations pertaining to the location of loose formal construction. Through
my analyses variation comes to the fore as a means of organizing and deriving thematic material in
not only expositions and recapitulations, but also development sections. This use of variation
imparts a sense of continuity, rather than stark contrast, across the sonata form in its entirety.
Further probing the apparent opposition between teleological (developmental) and additive
(variational) modes of repetition posited throughout this dissertation, the question remains: what
compositional techniques engender a strong sense of development?58 Or, stated differently, what
compositional techniques have (implicitly) become associated with the intrinsic function of
development? Caplin’s theorization of phrase-structural organization in development sections
provides some answers: specifically, his theorization of a developmental core, or pre-core/core
technique. According to Caplin, “The core of the development typically projects an emotional
quality of instability, restlessness, and dramatic conflict … the core is the part of the development in
which the traditional aesthetic sense of a ‘working out’ of the material is most prominently
expressed.”59 For Caplin a core comprises four stages through which material is “worked out”: (1)
the establishment of a model (typically 4–8 mm. long), (2) sequential repetitions of the model, (3)
fragmentation of the model (which may in turn become a new model that is sequenced), and (4)
cadential function, articulating the dominant of the home (or development) key via half cadence or
dominant arrival.60 The compositional techniques associated with a core, especially model-sequence,
56 I address such criticisms in Chapter 1.

57 This dissertation does not consider the harmonic components of Schubert’s development sections in contrast to
expositions and recapitulations in depth. However, it is worth noting that he often explores multiple key areas in
expositions, and his frequent use of the submediant in this regard—a “developmental key”—is one means by which he
blurs boundaries between the functions of exposition-development-recapitulation from a harmonic perspective.
58 I address this question in Chapter 3 as well, in the context of D. 887/i.
59 Caplin, Classical Form, 142.
60 Ibid., 142–45.
181
fragmentation, and foreshortening, I argue, have crystallized as necessary conditions of
development. 61 Though not all analysts identify these processes of thematic manipulation or
transformation in development sections in the same terms as Caplin, these techniques are often
interpreted as intrinsic markers of development function. While tonal regions are also important in
distinguishing a development section, the aforementioned compositional techniques seem to hold
pride of place in effecting the aesthetics of thematic development.
The theoretical ramifications resulting from Schubert’s use of variation in development
sections are clear: this practice undermines the ability of development, as an interthematic function,
to be distinguished by the compositional techniques and organizational strategies employed in
development sections. This is problematic within a Marxian framework of sonata form. For, as per
our current model inherited from Marx (discussed in Chapter 3), the development is a marked
formal unit: it is the epitome of motion, Bewegung, and distinguished from exposition and
recapitulation as points of Ruhe. It is the very presence of a development section, a section clearly
differentiated from the exposition and recapitulation, that positions sonata form at the pinnacle of
musical forms. Following Marx, many have argued that if a development section is not sufficiently
differentiated, if it is too similar to the exposition and recapitulation, then the sonata is flawed: it
lacks its defining, characteristic section crucial to the form’s teleological logic. I discussed the
influence of Beethoven on our contemporary understanding of sonata form, and the resulting
critiques of Schubert’s contributions to the genre in Chapter 3. In the present chapter, through a
close reading of full-movement constructions, I confronted those issues more directly from an
analytical perspective, demonstrating the variational logic that underpins the construction of
Schubert’s sonata forms. All three of Schubert’s last piano sonatas employ variation techniques to
similar ends over the course of the entire sonata form; if we are to better understand Schubert’s
handling of such large-scale musical forms, reframing the relationship between—and compositional
techniques associated with—the three large-scale sections in sonata form is perhaps one place for us
to begin.
61 This is evident in criticism of Schubert’s large-scale instrumental forms for over a century. Turning to Caplin’s theory
allows us to more specifically identify the compositional techniques analysts are looking for to meet the condition of
thematic development necessary for a sonata form.
-Conclusion-
Repetition is conspicuous throughout Schubert’s oeuvre, permeating his instrumental as well as his
vocal music. Moreover, repetition has remained central to the conversation surrounding Schubert’s
compositions for well over a century. Just as musical repetitions seemingly obsess over a given
theme, scholars have been obsessed with Schubert’s treatment of repetition in sonata forms—an
obsession that is, admittedly, borne out in the pages of this dissertation. My work builds upon the
notion that variation provides a fruitful analytical lens for this repertoire. In developing an analytical
framework that privileged elements of variation, I illuminated the function of variation as a set of
compositional techniques, musical processes, and form, and, ultimately, reframed the treatment of
repetition in Schubert’s idiom.
Throughout this dissertation I explored the interrelationships between practices of social
music making, variation techniques, theme-and-variation form, and sonata form in Schubert’s
oeuvre (see Figure 5.1). Beginning with an examination of Schubert’s musical-social life, I was able
to illuminate a routine form of musical engagement in which the use of variation techniques comes
to the fore: extemporaneous keyboard playing to accompany evenings of social dancing at house
parties. Further exploring the relationship between variation techniques and Schubert’s
compositional practice, I turned to the genre of theme-and-variation form (thus maintaining a clear
relationship between form and technique). After analyzing all seventeen of Schubert’s published
variation sets, I extracted techniques of variation that both reference variation form and are
idiomatic to Schubert’s compositions. My analyses in the later chapters privilege these elements of
variation, which in turn guide my form-functional analysis in sonata form.
In combining the analysis of variation techniques and processes with form-function theory, I
created a variation perspective applicable to the analysis of sonata forms. My analyses highlighted
Schubert’s use of variation techniques and form throughout his oeuvre, and thus his evocation of
variation form and aesthetics. I interpret the presence of variation in sonata forms as a reflection of
Schubert’s musical practice writ large. Ultimately, through a dialogue between sonata and variation,
my analyses reveal a uniquely Schubertian means of creating musical coherence in and beyond
sonata forms. I offer an alternative analytical method—and mode of listening—that destabilizes our
contemporary assumptions about the form and “how it ought to go.” My work thus contributes not
only to the domain of Schubert studies, but also to the study of musical form, in two significant
ways.
182
183
Figure 5.1: Summary of Major Themes

Social Variation Theme and Sonata

Music Techniques Variation Form Form
taking the
composer’s life the “variation destabilizing
into account in perspective” sonata form
theory/analysis
Both the analytical backdrop and corpus of this dissertation are unique among studies of
musical form. First, while I applied a familiar analytical lens—variation—my contextual framework
is distinctive: my analyses of variation in Schubert’s sonata form compositions are situated within the
broader context of his musical life. Through a thorough consideration of Schubert’s musical-social
life and for-profit publications, it becomes clear that other forms of musical engagement influenced
Schubert’s use of variation in sonata form. Emphasizing Schubert’s use of variation from a practical
perspective frames his sonata form practice in more broadly stylistic terms. In general, considering
the musical lives of other composers, as a means of informing one’s analytical perspective, could
certainly prove fruitful for analysis. The resulting norms established via analysis would reflect a
composer’s practice more holistically.
Second, the decision to analyze theme-and-variation sets as well as sonata forms was crucial
to developing an analytical framework of broad stylistic relevance. My approach is perhaps atypical
of Formenlehre scholarship: sonata form remains the focal point of many formal analyses.1 Indeed,
given the lack of a generalized theory of Romantic form, theorists have instead focused on
developing models for the analysis of sonata forms centered, as in the present study, on a single
genre or composer.2 However, broadening the purview of formal analysis is a fruitful path for future
studies of musical form. Therefore, rather than position Schubert’s sonata forms as the pinnacle of
1 Cf. Julian Horton and Paul Wingfield’s attempt to codify Mendelssohnian norms and deformations. While their corpus
was extensive, they restricted their analyses to works in sonata form. Julian Horton and Paul Wingfield, “Norm and
Deformation in Mendelssohn’s Sonata Forms,” in Mendelssohn Perspectives ed. Nicole Grimes and Angela R. Mace
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012).
2 Indeed, it is debatable whether or not it is even possible to theorize Romantic form in the same manner as music of the
High Classical style. For one take on the issue, see Steven Vande Moortele, “In Search of Romantic Form,” Music
Analysis 32, no. 3 (2013), 408–11.
184
his creative output, I have framed them as one strand within his oeuvre reflecting aspects of his
compositional idiom (perhaps “legitimizing” other formal genres in the process). In future projects
the variation perspective applied here could easily be employed to analyze pieces in countless other
genres; extending this analytical lens would reveal the many and nuanced ways in which elements of
variation permeate Schubert’s oeuvre. Moreover, the variation perspective could be applied to the
study of other composers’ idioms, for the blending of sonata and variation continues well into the
nineteenth century. In forging a new link between contemporary Formenlehre and a composer’s
practice, the analytical framework employed throughout this dissertation provides a model for the
theorization of style and its application in analyzing musical form. Moving forward, in adopting a
similar mode of contextualizing analysis—identifying inter-generic trends in a composer’s oeuvre
reflective of their holistic musical lives—scholars of nineteenth-century music, and musical form,
can delve deeper into the idiosyncrasies of any composer.
***
As I have suggested in this dissertation, Schubert’s reputation suffered from constant comparisons
with Beethoven because of their historical and geographical proximity. Scholars today still perceive
zthe need to consider the composer on his own terms in order to redress the marginalization of
Schubert. My work not only helps to frame Schubert’s idiomatic practice in positive terms, but also
reveals his contributions to sonata form as an ever-evolving genre. Indeed, as Jeffrey Perry notes,
“one might even ask whether Schubert’s sonata/variation hybridizations were not of greater
relevance as concrete models to Brahms, Mahler, and others than were Beethoven’s essays in such
hybridization.”3 In this regard, further elucidation on the presence of variation in nineteenth-century
sonata forms is an immensely promising avenue for future research.
It is instructive, for instance, to consider in brief the similarities between Schubert’s sonata
forms and those of Johannes Brahms, whose thematic transformations have often been analyzed in
language that recalls variation procedures. Walter Frisch’s description of the treatment of thematic
material in Brahms’s sonata forms is exemplary in this regard: “the higher-level reinterpretation of a
theme at each of its appearances in the sonata form is indeed one of Brahms’s most characteristic
and powerful techniques.”4 The same could be said of distributed variations in Schubert’s idiom. Or,
consider processes of loose variation that blur the boundaries between thematic variation and
3 Jeffrey Perry, “The Wanderer’s Many Returns: Schubert’s Variations Reconsidered,” Journal of Musicology 19, no. 2
(Spring 2002), 379.

4 Walter Frisch, “Brahms, Developing Variation, and the Schoenberg Critical Tradition,” 19th-Century Music 5, no. 3
(1982), 228.
185
development; in Brahms’s oeuvre this compositional strategy manifests, albeit to greater extremes, in
the form of developing variations. Similarly, processes of variation are conspicuous throughout
Mahler’s idiom. So much so that a recent San Francisco Symphony program purposefully juxtaposed
Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony (D. 759) with Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde to highlight
similarities in the treatment of repetition between the two: hearing Mahler through the lens of
Schubert foregrounds the use of “variant techniques” in the songs and symphonies of the former.5
Elements of variation permeate sonata forms throughout the nineteenth century; however, the
presence of variation (processes, techniques, and form) in and its subsequent impact on these works
remains understudied.
Viewing cyclical procedures through the lens of variation reveals further connections
between Schubert and the formal procedures of later nineteenth-century composers. Sonata forms
built around these procedures in the mid- to late-nineteenth century find commonalities with the
varied returns of thematic material in Schubert’s idiom that integrate thematic and motivic material
throughout. This is not to say that Schubert’s sonata forms were the catalysts of cyclic form. Rather,
through the analytical framework developed in this dissertation we can better situate Schubert’s
contributions to sonata form within the history of the genre as it evolved through the nineteenth
century.
Ultimately, I do not claim to have “solved” Schubert, nor have I had the final say on the role
of repetition in his oeuvre. I do, however, believe that approaching Schubert’s sonata forms from
the perspective of variation grants access to wholly new analytical and experiential opportunities.
Attending to variation techniques, the analyst will witness these processes unfold across musical
space; the listener will experience processes of thematic transformation as they unfold through
musical time. In turn, this will affect their perception of the time of sonata form as the piece
progresses, generating a sense of forward progression while retaining aspects of past musical events.
Or maybe the listener feels like no “progress” has been made, and that only their perspective has
changed. The lens of variation helps us to privilege these subtleties—to appreciate that a repetition
is never “just” a repetition—and to shed some of the baggage otherwise associated with sonata form
in order to appreciate the uniquely Schubertian elements of his contributions the formal genre. As
such, we can regain a more flexible conception sonata form, which in turn relaxes our current
system of value judgments, and enables analysts to better understand the function of musical form
(as a compositional heuristic) in the nineteenth century.
5https://bachtrack.com/review-tilson-thomas-oneill-cooke-san-francisco-carnegie-hall-april-2016 (accessed 15 May

2017).
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The Urge to Vary: Schubert’s Variation Practice from

Schubertiades to Sonata Forms

oeuvre, and how it is employed.

consideration of Schubert’s musical-social life, establishes the relevance of variation beyond

Caplin’s theory of formal functions as a supplement to analyses of variation. Chapter 2 investigates

within the ever-evolving historical trajectory of the genre.

1 For more on this, see Chapter 1.

4 I discuss this tradition in greater detail in Chapter 1.

studies of parataxis in Schubert’s sonata forms, see Chapter 1.

Repetition in Schubert’s Reception History

“In Search of Romantic Form,” Music Analysis 32, no. 3 (2013).

ed. Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 53.

lacked any evidence of an editing or revising practice on Schubert’s behalf.

memoirs of friends, and the discourse of contemporary music theoretical work.

29, no. 1 (2005), 40.

Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1949), 148.

81, no. 1 (Spring, 1997), 52.

55 Mak, “Schubert’s Sonata Forms,” 275, emphasis mine.

University of California Press, 2001).

Sonata and Variation,” Music Theory Spectrum 38, no. 1 (2016).

Analyzing Variation: From Variation Techniques to Formal Functions

Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 139.

(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997), 34.

place three times a week in 1822. Ibid., 175.

111 Hanson, Musical Life, 163–7.

hosted or attended by the composer abound in Deutsch’s Memoirs.

120 I return to this point shortly.

Tiedemann (Calcutta, India: Seagull books, 2009).

Variation Form in the Literature: Historical Context

referring to a style of variation popular in the late eighteenth century.

Variation” and “Variation as Form and Technique in Eighteenth-Century Musical Writings.”

Simon and Schuster, 1954), 290.

Variation Form in the Literature: Modern-day Scholarship

year of composition, title, and instrumentation.

30 Anne M. Hyland, “Tautology or Teleology? Towards an Understanding of Repetition in Franz Schubert’s

(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1948).

Nelson, The Technique of Variation, 27.

50 Sisman, Haydn and the Classical Variation, 1.

Analysis: Variation Techniques in Variation Form

Piano Sonata (D. 845/ii).

with my discussion of Schubert’s variation themes.

My corpus comprises Schubert’s seventeen published theme-and-variation sets (see Table

York: Dover Publications, 1995).

Example 2.1: D. 968A, Theme (mm. 1–8)

varied repeats of a theme or phrase, which I refer to as an embedded theme-and-variation set.

Example 2.3: D. 823/ii, Theme (mm. 1–4, 9–12)

& b bbc œœ œœ ™™ œœ œ̇ œ bœœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœj ‰ œœ bœœ ™™ œœ ˙˙ ™

In sum, Schubert’s themes fulfill certain generic expectations of Classical ornamental

Category Type Subtypes

figuration (same sub-types as in melodic

My final example of rhythmic variation demonstrates the contextual use of diminution,

Example 2.11: D. 576, Variation 11 (mm. 184–91)

Example 2.12: D. 802, Variation 2 (mm. 60–63)

87 D. 667/2, D. 803/4, D. 810/3, and D. 908/2 similarly employ imitative accompaniments.

Example 2.13: D. 576, Finale (mm. 266–81)

Example 2.14: D. 624, Variation 4 (mm. 65–68)

813/2; D. 810/2 and 5; D. 908/1, 4, 6, and 7; D. 934/theme; D. 935/2 and 5.

> > >œ œ ™ >œ œ >œ œ™ >œ œ̇ œ

Example 2.16: D. 803/iv, Variation 3 (mm. 58–60)

Table 2.3: Harmonic Plans in Off-Tonic Variations

New Key Home Key* D. 576 (6/#vi)

Home Key New Key (Dominant) D. 908 (6/vi)

* Begins in F# minor, ends in tonic major though the set is in A minor.