{"id":78,"date":"2022-07-11T23:28:45","date_gmt":"2022-07-11T22:28:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/emuso.com\/?page_id=78"},"modified":"2022-07-03T11:59:14","modified_gmt":"2022-07-03T10:59:14","slug":"robert-schumann","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/emuso.com\/robert-schumann\/","title":{"rendered":"Robert Schumann"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Portrait<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In 1830, in a self-analysis entered in his diary, Schumann claimed to be \u2018excellent in music and poetry \u2013 but not a musical genius; [my] talents as musician and poet are at the same level\u2019. 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 \u2018practicality\u2019 and \u2018talent for Latin\u2019 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Variations<\/em>\u00a0for piano and orchestra on\u00a0“La ci darem la mano”<\/em>\u00a0from\u00a0Don Giovanni<\/em>\u00a0for\u00a0Allegemeine musikalische Zeitung<\/em>\u00a0edited by G.W. Fink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From this time until 1832, he composed some remarkable piano works, including the\u00a0Papillons<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0Die Davidbundlertanze<\/em>. 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 \u2018ever-worsening weakness\u2019 or \u2018laming\u2019 of the middle finger of his right hand. As he put it emphatically to his mother in a letter of November 1832: \u2018for my part, I’m completely resigned [to my lame finger], and deem it incurable\u2019. However, he immediately devoted his time to his remaining interest in music journalism, and he continued to compose unwaveringly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1834 Schumann founded a music journal, the\u00a0Neue Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Musik<\/em>, 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:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Schumann used these devices in his compositions too, mainly in his works for piano, which include: the\u00a0Abegg Variations<\/em>\u00a0on the name of one on his girlfriends (the musical notes A-B-E-G-G), the character-pieces\u00a0Davidsb\u00fcndlert\u00e4nze<\/em>\u00a0(Dances of the league of David, an imaginary association of those fighting the Philistines),\u00a0Carnaval<\/em>\u00a0(pieces with literary or other allusive meanings, including one on the notes A-S-C-H after the hometown of another girlfriend),\u00a0Fantasiest\u00fccke<\/em>\u00a0(a collection of poetic pieces depicting moods),\u00a0Kreisleriana<\/em>\u00a0(fantasy pieces around the character of a mad Kapellmeister) and\u00a0Kinderszenen<\/strong><\/em>\u00a0(Scenes from Childhood).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During this period of stress and turmoil from 1838-1839, Schumann created a brilliant piano work for Clara to perform, the delightful\u00a0Arabesque in C Major<\/strong><\/em>, 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Liederkreis<\/em>\u00a0based on the words of Eichendorff,\u00a0Frauenliebe und Leben<\/em>\u00a0(A Woman’s Love and Life), and\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>\u00a0(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.\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>\u00a0is 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:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The poetry itself was significant, and in particular that of Heine, the poet of\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>. 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\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>, this masterpiece of song is unquestionably a work of the greatest originality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Dichterliebe<\/em>. Take the exquisitely poignant postlude of the tenth song (H\u00f6r’ ich das Liedchen klingen), for example, or that of the last (Die alten, b\u00f6sen Lieder), which must constitute one of the most perfect endings to be found in music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dichterliebe, Opus 48 (A Poet’s Love)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1.\u00a0Im wundersch\u00f6nen Monat Mai<\/strong>

Im wundersch\u00f6nen Monat Mai,
Als alle Knospen sprangen,
Da ist in meinem Herzen
Die Liebe aufgegangen.

Im wundersch\u00f6nen Monat Mai,
Als alle V\u00f6gel sangen,
Da hab’ ich ihr gestanden
Mein Sehnen und Verlangen.<\/td>		1. In the wondrous month of May<\/strong>

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.<\/td><\/tr>
2.\u00a0Aus meinen Tr\u00e4nen spriessen<\/strong>

Aus meinen Tr\u00e4nen sprie\u00dfen
Viel bl\u00fchende 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.<\/td>		2. From my tears burst<\/strong>

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.<\/td><\/tr>
10.\u00a0H\u00f6r’ ich das Liedchen klingen<\/strong>

H\u00f6r’ 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 Waldesh\u00f6h’,
Dort l\u00f6st sich auf in Tr\u00e4nen
Mein \u00fcbergro\u00dfes Weh’.<\/td>		10. When I hear the song<\/strong>

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.<\/td><\/tr>
16.\u00a0Die alten, b\u00f6sen Lieder<\/strong>

Die alten, b\u00f6sen Lieder,
Die Tr\u00e4ume b\u00f6s’ und arg,
Die la\u00dft uns jetzt begraben,
Holt einen gro\u00dfen Sarg.

Hinein leg’ ich gar manches,
Doch sag’ ich noch nicht, was;
Der Sarg mu\u00df sein noch gr\u00f6\u00dfer,
Wie’s Heidelberger Fa\u00df.

Und holt eine Totenbahre
Und Bretter fest und dick;
Auch mu\u00df sie sein noch l\u00e4nger,
Als wie zu Mainz die Br\u00fcck’.

Und holt mir auch zw\u00f6lf Riesen,
Die m\u00fcssen noch st\u00e4rker sein
Als wie der starke Christoph
Im Dom zu K\u00f6ln am Rhein.

Die sollen den Sarg forttragen,
Und senken ins Meer hinab;
Denn solchem gro\u00dfen Sarge
Geb\u00fchrt ein gro\u00dfes Grab.

Wi\u00dft ihr, warum der Sarg wohl
So gro\u00df und schwer mag sein?
Ich senkt’ auch meine Liebe
Und meinen Schmerz hinein.<\/td>		16. The old and evil songs<\/strong>

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.<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Piano Concerto in A minor<\/em><\/strong>. 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\u00a0Piano Quintet<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0remains the most often performed because of the freshness and Romantic warmth of its ideas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After that, in 1843, he turned to choral music, working at a secular oratorio and at setting part of Goethe’s\u00a0Faust<\/em>. He also took up a teaching post at the new conservatory as professor of composition, piano, and score reading at the Musikhoffsch\u00fcle in Leipzig of which Mendelssohn was director. But he was an ineffectual teacher, and he had only limited success as a conductor too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0Genoveva<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0which was first performed in Leipzig in 1850 with very modest success. The overture to\u00a0Genoveva<\/em>\u00a0remains a widely-performed part of concert-hall repertoire today, along with an overture to Byron’s\u00a0Manfred<\/em>, intended as incidental music for the theatre. Schumann’s\u00a0Concert Overtures<\/em>\u00a0include\u00a0Die Braut von Messina<\/em>\u00a0(The Bride from Messina), based on Schiller’s play of that name,\u00a0Julius C\u00e4sar<\/em>, based on Shakespeare, and\u00a0Hermann und Dorothea<\/em>, based on Goethe. A setting of scenes from Goethe’s\u00a0Faust<\/em>\u00a0also includes a popular overture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1850 he took up a post in D\u00fcsseldorf as town musical director. Schumann was at first happy and prolific, writing the eloquent\u00a0Cello Concerto<\/em>\u00a0and the\u00a0Rhenish Symphony<\/em>\u00a0(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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n