Robert Schumann

As a German composer, critic, and music journalist, Robert Schumann was one of the driving forces of the young Romantic movement in Germany. And like many in his generation, Schumann did not seem destined to become a composer, let alone one who would be so influential in the development of a new style. But music became all-important to Schumann, and he displayed multiple talents as a performer, composer, and literary exponent of Romanticism, championing new composers and their works and influencing the musical tastes of a generation.

Robert Schumann was born in Zwickau, Germany on June 8, 1810 as the son of a bookseller, Friedrich August Schumann. His mother’s maiden name was Johanna Christiane Schnabel. Schumann spent his youth reading the imaginary Romantic tales of Byron and Sir Walter Scott, and he wanted to be a poet when he grew up. At the same time, he developed an interest for the organ and piano, studying with Johann Gottfried Kuntzsch, and with the encouragement of his father, he began at the age of seven to compose small pieces. Schumann’s father made attempts to retain Carl Maria von Weber as a composition teacher for his talented son, but these efforts were fruitless, owing to the death of both August Schumann and Weber in 1826. However, for Schumann the expression of his creativity through words or through his musical compositions was really the same creative process in a way; the medium of expression was the only difference. This duality in his abilities and interests persisted throughout his life and was to prove to be a very fortunate circumstance in his mature years when he lost his ability to perform as a pianist.

Following the death of his father in 1826, Schumann decided to choose music rather than poetry as his life’s work. However, his mother wanted him to learn a more lucrative trade than music could provide her son. Despite that from his childhood, Schumann had demonstrated an exceptional ability as a pianist, he persisted in strong literary interests as well. He was very enthusiastic over the writings of Jean Paul (J.P.F. Richter). But in 1821, at his mother’s insistence, he went to Leipzig to study law, but instead, Schumann spent his time in musical, social, and literary activities. He composed some piano music and took piano lessons from Friedrich Wieck. After a stay in Heidelberg, ostensibly studying law but actually music, Schumann persuaded his mother, that he should give up law in favor of a pianist’s career. In 1829, he wrote to his mother:

I have arrived at the conviction that with work, patience, and a good teacher, I would be able, within six years, to surpass any pianist. Besides… I have an imagination and perhaps a skill for the individual work of creation.

In 1830, in a self-analysis entered in his diary, Schumann claimed to be ‘excellent in music and poetry – but not a musical genius; [my] talents as musician and poet are at the same level’. But by July he was prepared to opt for music. This is evident from a letter written to his mother at this time in which he prepared her for the inevitable by pleading a lack of the ‘practicality’ and ‘talent for Latin’ that a successful lawyer must possess. Then in a letter of July 30, he outlined his plan to resume musical studies with Friedrich Wieck before spending a year in Vienna under Moscheles. Distressed by her son’s decision, Johanna Schumann nonetheless complied with his request to solicit Wieck’s opinion.

Wieck replied in early August, promising to make Schumann into a greater artist than Moscheles or Hummel, but he insisted that Schumann take daily piano lessons, study music theory with a teacher of Wieck’s choice, and agree to a review of his progress after a six-month trial period. Schumann’s mother gave her grudging approval in a letter a short time thereafter. And so Schumann went to live with the Wieck family at Leipzig where he developed his piano technique to a virtuoso level. In 1831 Schumann added the study of counterpoint with Heinrich Dorn, the conductor of Leipzig Opera to his schedule, and he wrote a review of Chopin’s Variations for piano and orchestra on “La ci darem la mano” from Don Giovanni for Allegemeine musikalische Zeitung edited by G.W. Fink.

From this time until 1832, he composed some remarkable piano works, including the Papillons and Die Davidbundlertanze. But he soon afterwards had trouble with his hands, allegedly due to a machine to strengthen his fingers, but more likely through the application of remedies (mercury treatments) for a syphilitic sore. Performance at the piano became increasingly difficult for him and eventually impossible, since his right hand became crippled. Schumann’s view of himself shifted from composer-pianist to composer-critic as a result of his physical ‘ever-worsening weakness’ or ‘laming’ of the middle finger of his right hand. As he put it emphatically to his mother in a letter of November 1832: ‘for my part, I’m completely resigned [to my lame finger], and deem it incurable’. However, he immediately devoted his time to his remaining interest in music journalism, and he continued to compose unwaveringly.

In 1834 Schumann founded a music journal, the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, which became one of the most important music journals of the Nineteenth Century. Schumann was its editor and leading writer for ten years, and he directed the focus and purpose of this literary creation:

The age of mutual compliments is gradually sinking into its grave. Frankly, we are not minded to assist its resurrection. He who does not attack the bad, defends the good but halfway. — Our purpose… is to remind our readers emphatically of the distant past and its works. Then, to emphasize the fact that the contemporary artist can secure strength for the creation of new beauty only by drinking from such pure fountains. Then, to attack as inartistic the immediate past, which is concerned merely with encouraging superficial virtuosity. Lastly, to help prepare and hasten the coming of a new poetic era.

Schumann was a brilliant and perceptive critic, and his writings embodied the most progressive aspects of musical thinking in his time. He succeeded in drawing public attention to many promising young composers. Sometimes he wrote his musical critiques using pseudonyms: Eusebius (representing his lyrical, contemplative side) and Florestan (his fiery, impetuous one).

Schumann used these devices in his compositions too, mainly in his works for piano, which include: the Abegg Variations on the name of one on his girlfriends (the musical notes A-B-E-G-G), the character-pieces Davidsbündlertänze (Dances of the league of David, an imaginary association of those fighting the Philistines), Carnaval (pieces with literary or other allusive meanings, including one on the notes A-S-C-H after the hometown of another girlfriend), Fantasiestücke (a collection of poetic pieces depicting moods), Kreisleriana (fantasy pieces around the character of a mad Kapellmeister) and Kinderszenen (Scenes from Childhood).

Affairs of the heart played a large part in Schumann’s life. By 1835 he was in love with Friedrich Wieck’s young daughter Clara (an enormously talented performer and composer in her own right), but Herr Wieck did his best to separate them, perhaps knowing of Schumann’s illness and eventual prognosis. They pledged themselves in 1837 but were much apart, and Schumann went through deep depressions.

During this period of stress and turmoil from 1838-1839, Schumann created a brilliant piano work for Clara to perform, the delightful Arabesque in C Major, Op. 18. The title of this piece implies florid, melodic figuration while pursuing a repetitive rhythmic pattern. Schumann encapsulates this style in the graceful and curvaceous roulades that he employs amid the rippling momentum of continuous 16th notes, and typical of the composer’s style, the piece abounds in fragmentary repetitions. In 1839 the young couple took legal steps to make Herr Wieck’s consent unnecessary, and after many further trials they were able to marry in 1840. Clara entered into her diary that their marriage was the most beautiful moment of her life.

Schumann’s compositions understandably turned in that year to lieder. He composed at this time 140 lieder (art songs), including many of his finest works in this genre. Among the resulting songs cycles were Liederkreis based on the words of Eichendorff, Frauenliebe und Leben (A Woman’s Love and Life), and Dichterliebe (A Poet’s Love), which tells through Heine’s poetry a tragic Romantic story about the flowering of love, its failure, and the poet’s exclusion from joy, and his longing for death. Dichterliebe is undoubtedly Schumann’s masterpiece of song writing, and it remains a highly recorded work by male lieder singers today, ranking as the composer’s most popular vocal work. Schumann, as a pianist-composer, made the piano partake fully in the expression of emotion in his song cycles, often giving the piano the most telling music when the voice had finished. In his own words:

The singing voice is hardly sufficient in itself. It cannot carry the whole task of interpretation unaided. In addition to its overall expression, the finer shadings of the poem must be represented as well, provided that the melody does not suffer in the process.

In 1839, Schumann had previously declared in a letter to the composer Hirschbach that instrumental music was indisputably superior to vocal music. Until then Schumann had been almost exclusively a piano composer. Yet, in 1840, he made a massive contribution to the development of the song cycle. Clearly something had happened to cause this sudden turnaround in Schumann’s thinking.

The poetry itself was significant, and in particular that of Heine, the poet of Dichterliebe. Poetry had become central to the creation of Nineteenth Century music, as post-revolutionary Europeans strove to find the voice of the common man, symbolized by the poet (Dichter). However, Schumann had been interested in poetry since childhood and had actually met Heine some years earlier. While it undoubtedly contributed to Schumann’s fastidious word-setting when he did come to write songs, poetry alone cannot have been the impetus behind Dichterliebe.

Schubert has often been cited as the catalyst in Schumann’s song writing. Schubert-lovers are indebted to Schumann for uncovering and championing his works, but evidence suggests Schumann was more impressed by Schubert’s instrumental pieces than by his songs, as evidenced by his efforts to secure a performance of Schubert’s ‘Great’ Symphony in Leipzig in 1839. Schumann did, however, make a vigorous study of Schubert’s song cycles, but while their influence can be detected in Dichterliebe, this masterpiece of song is unquestionably a work of the greatest originality.

The most convincing answer is a musical one. Schumann, by 1840, admitted to being frustrated by composing for the piano alone. He desired a broader canvas, and when his friend Mendelssohn suggested vocal music, Schumann’s literary background and admiration for Schubert would have encouraged him to take the plunge. Furthermore, he could say openly in song those things to his beloved Clara, which he could only hint at in his piano works. But the art song as it existed in 1839 was not stimulus enough for Schumann. He had to change the art form in order to incorporate his own pianistic talents. To do this, he gave the piano equal importance to the voice, letting it say as much if not more. This development, taken on by composers such as Hugo Wolf, is Schumann’s great legacy to the art song. It is seen nowhere better than in Dichterliebe. Take the exquisitely poignant postlude of the tenth song (Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen), for example, or that of the last (Die alten, bösen Lieder), which must constitute one of the most perfect endings to be found in music.

Dichterliebe, Opus 48 (A Poet’s Love)

1. Im wunderschönen Monat Mai Im wunderschönen Monat Mai, Als alle Knospen sprangen, Da ist in meinem Herzen Die Liebe aufgegangen. Im wunderschönen Monat Mai, Als alle Vögel sangen, Da hab’ ich ihr gestanden Mein Sehnen und Verlangen.	1. In the wondrous month of May In the wondrous month of May, when buds were bursting open, then it was that my heart filled with love. In the wondrous month of May, when the birds were singing, then it was I confessed to her my longing and desire.
2. Aus meinen Tränen spriessen Aus meinen Tränen sprießen Viel blühende Blumen hervor, Und meine Seufzer werden Ein Nachtigallenchor. Und wenn du mich lieb hast, Kindchen, Schenk’ ich dir die Blumen all’, Und vor deinem Fenster soll klingen Das Lied der Nachtigall.	2. From my tears burst From my tears burst many full-blown flowers, and my sighs become a nightingale chorus. And if you love me, child, I’ll give you all the flowers, and at your window shall sound the song of the nightingale.
10. Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen, Das einst die Liebste sang, So will mir die Brust zerspringen Von wildem Schmerzendrang. Es treibt mich ein dunkles Sehnen Hinauf zur Waldeshöh’, Dort löst sich auf in Tränen Mein übergroßes Weh’.	10. When I hear the song When I hear the song my love once sang, my heart almost breaks from the wild rush of pain. Vague longing drives me up to the high forest, where my immense grief dissolves in tears.
16. Die alten, bösen Lieder Die alten, bösen Lieder, Die Träume bös’ und arg, Die laßt uns jetzt begraben, Holt einen großen Sarg. Hinein leg’ ich gar manches, Doch sag’ ich noch nicht, was; Der Sarg muß sein noch größer, Wie’s Heidelberger Faß. Und holt eine Totenbahre Und Bretter fest und dick; Auch muß sie sein noch länger, Als wie zu Mainz die Brück’. Und holt mir auch zwölf Riesen, Die müssen noch stärker sein Als wie der starke Christoph Im Dom zu Köln am Rhein. Die sollen den Sarg forttragen, Und senken ins Meer hinab; Denn solchem großen Sarge Gebührt ein großes Grab. Wißt ihr, warum der Sarg wohl So groß und schwer mag sein? Ich senkt’ auch meine Liebe Und meinen Schmerz hinein.	16. The old and evil songs The old and evil songs, the dreams wicked and bad, let us now bury them – fetch a big coffin. Much will I lay in it, though what, I won’t yet say; a bigger coffin must it be than the Vat of Heidelberg. And fetch a bier and planks firm and thick; the bier must be longer than the bridge at Mainz. And twelve giants fetch me, who shall be even stronger than St Christopher the Strong in Cologne Cathedral on the Rhine. They shall bear off the coffin, and sink it in the sea; for such a big coffin belongs in a big grave. Do you know why the coffin should be so heavy and big? I would put my love in and my sorrow too.

Schumann was a composer who tended to work in only one genre at a time, unlike his colleagues. And in 1841, he turned his attentions from lieder to orchestral music. Schumann composed symphonies and a beautiful, poetic piece for piano and orchestra for Clara that he later reworked as the first movement of his Piano Concerto in A minor. His compositional career continued successfully, with Clara premiering many of his works. Then in 1842, while Clara was away on a concert tour (he disliked being in her shadow and remained at home), he turned to chamber music, and wrote his three string quartets and three works with piano, of which the Piano Quintet remains the most often performed because of the freshness and Romantic warmth of its ideas.

After that, in 1843, he turned to choral music, working at a secular oratorio and at setting part of Goethe’s Faust. He also took up a teaching post at the new conservatory as professor of composition, piano, and score reading at the Musikhoffschüle in Leipzig of which Mendelssohn was director. But he was an ineffectual teacher, and he had only limited success as a conductor too.

In 1844, while on a concert tour with Clara to Russia, Schumann suffered a nervous breakdown, and the couple subsequently moved to Dresden, but his deep depressions continued, hampering his creativity. Not until 1846-1848 was he again productive as a composer, writing chamber music, songs, and his opera Genoveva which was first performed in Leipzig in 1850 with very modest success. The overture to Genoveva remains a widely-performed part of concert-hall repertoire today, along with an overture to Byron’s Manfred, intended as incidental music for the theatre. Schumann’s Concert Overtures include Die Braut von Messina (The Bride from Messina), based on Schiller’s play of that name, Julius Cäsar, based on Shakespeare, and Hermann und Dorothea, based on Goethe. A setting of scenes from Goethe’s Faust also includes a popular overture.

In 1850 he took up a post in Düsseldorf as town musical director. Schumann was at first happy and prolific, writing the eloquent Cello Concerto and the Rhenish Symphony (No.3: one movement depicts his impressions of Cologne Cathedral). But the post worked out badly because of his indifferent conducting. Schumann became irascible and prone to lapses of memory while he was on the podium. Finally, in 1853, an assistant had to replace him. During this time, his compositions slowly found acceptance from an increasing audience, but his abilities to perform as a musician in any form had reached a sad end. Schumann’s music did not have the gracious charm which marked the quasi-instantaneous popularity of Mendelssohn and other contemporaries. And so the lack of enthusiasm for his music in some quarters (largely his fellow composers) caused Schumann’s health and spirits to deteriorate further.

In 1854, during a trip to Holland with Clara, a considerable public success for both, he began to hear voices and a terrifying music (auditory hallucinations) in his head. During this time, to his friend the violinist Joachim, he wrote: “the night has started to fall.” Schumann had always dreaded the possibility of madness, but on February 6 of this same year, he fled from the house and threw himself in the Rhine. And after being taken out of the water, he asked that he be locked up. The last two years of Schumann’s life were spent in an asylum close to Bonn.

He experienced a few lucid moments, but at other times he was lost in the voices and his inner horror. Brahms visited him from time to time, but the doctors seldom allowed Clara to come into direct contact with her husband, fearing a negative reaction from her presence. She followed the doctors’ instructions and often observed him through a window. Of his visits with Schumann, Brahms, normally reticent, wrote poignant letters to Clara with whom the young composer had fallen irrevocably in love. Schumann died at age 46 on July 29, 1856, almost certainly from the effects of syphilis and the toxic mercury treatments administered by his doctors.

• Theme on the Name of “Abegg” with Variations, Opus 1. (1830)
• Papillons, Opus 2. (1829-1831)
• Intermezzi, Opus 3. (1832)
• Toccata in C major, Opus 7. (1830)
• Sonata in G minor, Opus 22. (1833-1835)
• Carnaval. Scènes mignonnes sur quatre notes, Opus 9. (1834-1835)
• Sonata in F sharp minor, Opus 11. (1835)
• Davidsbündlertänze, Opus 6. (1837, revised 1850)
• Fantasiestücke, Opus 12. (1847)
• Fantasiestücke, Opus 111. (1851)
• Etudes enforme devariations, Opus 13. (twelve Etudes symphoniques.) (1834, rev. 1852)
• Kinderscenen, Opus 15. (1838)
• Kreisleriana. Fantasien, Opus 16. (1838, revised 1850)
• Fantasy in C major, Opus 17. (1836)
• Arabesque in C, Opus 18. (1838-39)
• Humoreske in Bb major, Opus 20. (1839)
• Novelletten, Opus 21. (1838)
  • No. 1, F major.
  • No.2, D major.
  • No.3, D major.
  • No.4, D major.
  • No.5, D major.
  • No.6, A major.
  • No.7, E major.
  • No.8, f# minor-D major.
• Faschingsschwank aus Wien. Fantasiebilder, Opus 26. (1839)
• Waldszenen, Op. 82. (1848-49)
• Concerto, piano and orchestra, A minor-major, Opus 54. (1841 and 1845)
• Concerto, violoncello and orchestra, A major, Opus 129. (1850)
• Fantasy, violin and orchestra in C major,Opus 131. (1853)
• Liederkreis, Opus 24. (1840) text by Heine.
• Myrthen, Opus 25. Song Cycle of 26 Nos. (1840)
• 1. Widmung.
• Liederkreis, Opus 39. (1840) text by Eichendorff.
• Frauenliebe und Leben, Opus 42. Cycle (1840) text by Chamisso.
• Dichterliebe, Opus 48. Song Cycle. (1840) text by Heine.
• Symphony No. 1 in Bb major, Opus 38. “Spring.” (1841)
• Symphony No.2 in C major, Opus 61. (1845-1846)
• Symphony No.3 in Eb major, Opus 97. “Rhenish.” (1850)
• Symphony No.4 in d minor, Opus 120. (1841, revised 1851)
• Overture to Byron’s Manfred, Opus 115. (1848-1849)
• Three String Quartets, Opus 41. (1842)
  • No.1, a minor.
  • No. 2, F major.
  • No.3, A major
• Piano Quintet in Eb major, Opus 44. (1842)
• Piano Quartet in Eb major, Opus 47. (1842)
• Fantasiestücke, clarinet (or violin, or cello) and piano, Opus 73. (1849)
• Das Paradies und die Peri for solo voices, chorus, and orchestra, Opus 50. (1843)
• Festival Overture on the Rheinweinlied, Opus 123. (1853)
• Mass, Opus 147. (1852)
• Requiem, Opus 148. (1852)
• Studien für den Pedal-Flügel, Opus 56. (1845)
  • No.1, c minor.
  • No.2, a minor.
  • No.3, E major.
  • No.4, Ab major.
  • No.5, b minor.
  • No.6, B major
• Skizzen für den Pedal-Flügel, Opus 58. (1845)
  • No.1, c minor.
  • No.2, C major.
  • No.3, f minor.
  • No.4 Db major.
• Six Fugues on the name of “Bach,” Opus, 60. (1845)
  • No.1, Bb major.
  • No.2, Bb major.
  • No.3, g minor.
  • No.4, Bb major.
  • No.5, F major.
  • No.6, Bb major
• Genoveva, Opus 81. (1846-48)