- John Daverio
- and Eric Sams
(b Zwickau, Saxony, June 8, 1810; d Endenich, nr Bonn, July 29, 1856). German composer and music critic. While best remembered for his piano music and songs, and some of his symphonic and chamber works, Schumann made significant contributions to all the musical genres of his day and cultivated a number of new ones as well. His dual interest in music and literature led him to develop a historically informed music criticism and a compositional style deeply indebted to literary models. A leading exponent of musical Romanticism, he had a powerful impact on succeeding generations of European composers.
1. Formative years: Zwickau, 1810–28.
The fifth and last child of August Schumann and Johanna Christiana Schumann (née Schnabel), Robert Schumann was born into a household dominated by literary activity. (There is no evidence for a middle name ‘Alexander’, given in some sources; his birth and death certificates both give ‘Robert Schumann’. Possibly Alexander is a corruption of his teenage pseudonym ‘Skülander’.) His father, an author of chivalric romances and a tireless lexicographer, amassed a small fortune by translating Walter Scott and Byron into German. He was also a book dealer, and Robert, his favourite child, was able to spend many hours poring over the classics of literature.
Between his third and fifth years, Schumann was placed under the care of Eleonore Ruppius, whom he later described warmly as a second mother. Having already displayed a talent for singing, he began piano lessons at the age of seven with J.G. Kuntsch, organist at St Marien, Zwickau; at the same time he attended the private school of the archdeacon H. Döhner, where he studied Latin, Greek and French. Within a year he had composed several dances (now lost) for keyboard. Another spur to his musical imagination came in 1818, when he accompanied his mother to Carlsbad and had a fleeting encounter with the pianist-composer Ignaz Moscheles.
Schumann’s childhood idyll came to an end with his entry into the Zwickau Gymnasium in 1819 or 1820. Shortly thereafter he and his brother Karl organized extempore theatrical productions in their home. In addition, he made his first appearances as a pianist in 1821 and 1822, in performances of variation sets (some for piano, Four hands) by Pleyel, Cramer, Ries, Moscheles and Weber. By this time he was also taking flute and cello lessons from Meissner, the municipal music director, and soon undertook two compositional projects, both dating from 1822: a setting of Psalm cl for soprano and alto, with unusual instrumentation (on the title-page designated ‘Oeuv. 1’); and an overture and chorus (Chor von Landleuten). An entry in his later ‘Projektenbuch’ alludes to the beginnings of an opera.
Although only a middling pupil, Schumann showed a keen interest in belles-lettres from his 13th year. At about this time he began to gather his own literary efforts – poems, dramatic fragments, biographical sketches of famous composers – under the pseudonym ‘Skülander’, in a commonplace-book entitled Blätter und Blümchen aus der goldenen Aue. In the autumn of 1825 he and ten fellow students formed a ‘Litterarischer Verein’, the meetings of which featured readings from the monuments of German literature and discussions of the members’ original creations. Before its disbanding in February 1828, the Verein provided Schumann with a forum for the systematic study of Schiller’s dramas and the essays of Herder and Friedrich Schlegel. Late in 1827 he developed a passion for the idiosyncratic writings of J.P.F. Richter (known as Jean Paul).
During his period as chief organizer of the Litterarischer Verein, Schumann tried his hand at a variety of literary genres, including metric translations of Greek and Latin verse (Idyllen aus dem Griechischen des Bion, Theocritus und Moschus), lyric poetry (more than 30 poems gathered in Allerley aus der Feder Roberts an der Mulde), drama (seven fragments survive, one of which treats the Coriolan story) and criticism (essays on a variety of aesthetic topics). In the diary he started early in 1827 (Tage des Jünglinglebens) Schumann recorded his painful reactions to the death of his father (from a nervous disorder) and of his 19-year-old sister Emilie (probably suicide) in the summer of 1826. The diary also tells of his current infatuation with the young Liddy Hempel and his past flirtation with Nanni Petsch.
Schumann continued to pursue his musical interests during his middle and later teenage years. While preparing for the meetings of the Litterarischer Verein, he also came to know some of Beethoven’s string quartets, Mozart’s operas and the keyboard music of Haydn and Louis Ferdinand, Prince of Prussia. Unfortunately, August Schumann’s attempts to retain Weber as a composition teacher for his talented son came to nothing, owing to the death of both men in 1826. Although Schumann began an E minor piano concerto in 1827 (sketches for another, in E♭, date from the next year) and claimed to have completed many songs and piano pieces by that time, none of the solo keyboard compositions survives. 13 songs on texts by Kerner, Byron, Ernst Schulze, J.G. Jacobi and Schumann himself date from the summers of 1827 and 1828, and were probably inspired by Agnes Carus, an attractive woman eight years Schumann’s senior, a talented singer, and the wife of Dr Ernst August Carus (nephew of an old family friend). Ranging from simple strophic to complex through-composed designs, the lieder attest the young composer’s attainment of an impressive level of technical mastery. When Gottlob Wiedebein, the Brunswick Kapellmeister to whom Schumann sent his Kerner settings in July 1828, responded with encouraging words but warned against submission to unbridled fantasy, he was probably reacting to the frequent tempo shifts, wayward modulations and irregular phrase lengths in a song such an An Anna I. On the one hand, the early lieder fulfilled a youthful ideal: the appearance of ‘poet and composer in one person’; on the other, they offered a repository of ideas for several of the piano works of the next decade: the Intermezzos op.4, the F♯ minor Sonata op.11 and G minor Sonata op.22.
2. Jean Paul and Schubert: Leipzig, 1828–9.
According to the terms of his father’s will, Schumann’s receipt of his inheritance was contingent upon his undertaking a three-year course of university study in an unspecified field. In deference to the wishes of his mother and his guardian (J.G. Rudel), Schumann agreed to matriculate as a law student at the University of Leipzig in late March 1828. Before taking up residence in Leipzig, however, he set off with his friend Gisbert Rosen on a tour of southern Germany that took him to Munich (where he met Heine) and then in April and early May to Bayreuth, Jean Paul’s home for his last 21 years. In the preceding months he had read most of the writer’s major works; the novels Titan and Flegeljahre were his favourites.
Once settled in Leipzig in late May, Schumann proved indifferent to the ‘ice-cold definitions’ of law. According to his room-mate Emil Flechsig, who perhaps exaggerated, he never set foot in a lecture hall. Instead, he continued his close study of Jean Paul, to whose inimitable style – replete with extravagant metaphors, fantastic digressions, flashes of wit and antithetically paired characters – he was irresistibly drawn. Confiding in his diary, he claimed: ‘Jean Paul seems to be interwoven with my inner being; it is as if I had a premonition of him’.
Before long Schumann embarked on a number of literary projects, all bearing the unmistakable stamp of his ‘Jean Paul’ manner. In Hottentottiana, the diary he began on 2 May 1828 and maintained until 1830, he brought together autobiographical analyses, sketches for poetic projects, and aesthetic speculations. Juniusabende und Julytage, an idyll conceived during the summer of 1828, contains experiments with ‘Polymeter’ or ‘Streckvers’, Jean Paul’s terms for prose poetry. In the aesthetic fragments from Hottentottiana (most of them dating from July and August, and thus contemporary with his second burst of song composition), Schumann toyed with the notion of musical composition as a kind of poetic activity, an idea he elaborated in ‘Die Tonwelt’, an essay written jointly with Willibald von der Lühe late that summer. The fancifully titled ‘Über Genial- Knill- Original- und andre itäten’ (‘On Genial- Insobr- Original- and other i(e)ties’) presents an analysis of creative genius. Finally, the fragmentary tale Selene, on which he worked in November, treats the Jean Paulian theme of the ‘hoher Mensch’, the individual capable of tempering Promethean energy with Olympian restraint. The synthesis of opposing character types – best represented by Vult and Walt Harnisch, the twin-brother protagonists in Flegeljahre – remained a major concern for Schumann as composer and critic throughout the ensuing decade.
Music likewise figured prominently during Schumann’s first year in Leipzig. By August he was studying the piano with Friedrich Wieck, who was to play an important role in his professional and personal life. At Wieck’s home, Schumann made contact not only with the musical élite of Leipzig but also with his teacher’s daughter Clara, at nine years of age already well on the way to becoming a concert pianist. In the months ahead Schumann himself attempted to master Hummel’s Etudes and Piano Concerto in A minor.
By late summer 1828 he had developed a passionate attachment to the music of Schubert, which he found comparable to Jean Paul’s prose in its ‘psychologically unusual connection of ideas’. Schubert’s polonaises and variations for piano (four hands) served as models for Schumann’s works in the same medium, among them the VIII polonaises conceived in August and September. Another four-hand composition for piano followed in early October, a set of variations (of which only a fragment survives) on a theme by Prince Louis Ferdinand. A more ambitious project undertaken soon after attests both the importance of convivial music-making for the young composer’s development and the continued influence of Schubert. In November Schumann organized a piano quartet whose reading sessions were attended by Wieck and the Caruses (resident in Leipzig since November 1827), and which continued to meet regularly until late March 1829. The group provided a laboratory for the C minor piano quartet Schumann had just begun, a work perhaps intended to pay homage to the recently deceased Schubert. (Sketches for two other piano quartets, in A and B, may both date from this period.) Indeed, the glittering keyboard passage-work in the first movement, the rapid modulations by 3rds in the minuet and the propulsive rhythms of the finale all reflect Schumann’s fascination with Schubert’s E♭ Piano Trio d929. Nearly 20 years later, he would associate the trio of the minuet with the revelation of a ‘new poetic life’ in his music. The recurrence of the trio’s main theme in the peroration of the finale is only one element in a web of inter-movement connections that bespeak Schumann’s concern with large-scale unity. Having provisionally completed the piano quartet by March 1829, Schumann planned to ‘cobble it into a symphony’, a project he did not realize.
3. The decision for music: Heidelberg, 1829–30.
As early as August 1828, Schumann contemplated a move to Heidelberg, ostensibly to spend a year at the university under the jurists Karl Mittermaier and A.F.J. Thibaut. He left Leipzig in May 1829 and after passing through Frankfurt quickly assimilated himself into the easy-going pace of life in picturesque Heidelberg. Although his certificate of study from the university (dated 10 September 1830) confirms his enrolment in courses on Roman, ecclesiastical and international law, his friend Eduard Röller, echoing Flechsig’s report on the year before, claimed that Schumann ‘didn’t attend a single lecture’. He did, however, take private lessons in French, Italian, English and Spanish, and also ran up a considerable debt with a local moneylender. After matriculating at the university on 30 July 1829, he made plans for a trip to Switzerland and Italy that would extend from 28 August to 25 October. Enchanted by Rossini’s operas and the bel canto of the soprano Giuditta Pasta, he wrote to Wieck that ‘one can have no notion of Italian music without hearing it under Italian skies’.
Once resettled in Heidelberg, Schumann kept busy with a broad range of musical activities. In Anton Töpken he found a willing partner with whom to explore the four-hand piano repertory; both friends also experimented with a chiroplast (or ‘cigar-mechanism’, as Schumann called it), a popular finger-strengthening device that may have caused the ‘numbness’ in the middle finger of his right hand, of which Schumann first complained in January 1830. Early in that year his performance of Moscheles’s variations on La marche d’Alexandre in a concert sponsored by the Museum (a musical club consisting chiefly of students) earned him the epithet ‘darling of the Heidelberg public’. While Schumann probably learnt little of jurisprudence from Thibaut, the latter’s Über Reinheit der Tonkunst (1825) deeply affected his musical-historical thinking; so too did his participation in readings of Handel’s oratorios (with up to 70 musicians) in Thibaut’s home. His attendance at one of Paganini’s Frankfurt concerts in April 1830 provided a musical stimulus of a very different but no less compelling kind.
In a self-analysis entered in his diary during the early summer, 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. Writing to his mother early in the month, 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 30 July 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 insisting that he 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 grudging approval in a letter of 12 August.
The compositions either begun or completed in Heidelberg grew out of a milieu in which convivial music-making played an important part, but they also reflect Schumann’s growing fascination with early music and contemporary virtuoso idioms. Among the ‘shorter piano pieces’ mentioned in his Projektenbuch for 1829 and 1830 is a set of six Walzer, known to us through the versions of three of these dances later incorporated into Papillons. A series of variations (unfinished, but later mined for the Intermezzos op.4 and Allegro op.8) on the ‘Campanella’ theme from Paganini’s Violin Concerto no.2 was probably inspired by Schumann’s encounter with the violinist’s technical wizardry in the April 1830 concert. During the spring or summer of the same year, Schumann set to work on a piano concerto in F, an ambitious project that occupied him intermittently for about two years. While the solo portions of the first movement were completed by August 1831, and the remaining two movements had been partially drafted by May and November respectively, the concerto appeared in a list of projects dated August 1832 as ‘yet to be finished’. When he approached Hummel as a possible teacher in August 1831, Schumann sent him the solo exposition of the work’s first movement, described in a nearly contemporary diary entry as ‘the first of my pieces to tend towards the romantic’. The C major Toccata (originally Etude fantastique en double-sons), parts of which may date back to late 1829, was completed in the spring of 1830, but was reworked in 1833 and published (in this later form) as op.7 in 1834. Both versions are characterized by rapidly alternating double-notes and motor rhythms, and thus represent an attempt to synthesize the chief musical stimuli of Schumann’s Heidelberg period: Paganinian virtuosity and Baroque propulsion.
Though first mentioned in a diary entry of 22 February 1830, the Abegg Variations occupied Schumann mainly during July and August. The first work completed after his decision in favour of a musical career, it was issued in November 1831 as his op.1. With the Abegg Variations Schumann presented himself to the ‘great world’ as a virtuoso-composer in the tradition of a figure such as Moscheles, whose Alexandre variations served as a model for the projected version of the work with orchestra (probably begun in the summer of 1831). In addition, Schumann’s variations also disclose a fanciful dimension in the generation of the theme from the surname of the work’s probably fictional dedicatee, Pauline, Comtesse d’Abegg. The musical cipher inspired a subtle approach to motivic development; as the piece proceeds, less attention is lavished on the musically enciphered name than on the possibilities of the two-note segment (A–B♭) with which the theme begins.
4. Discoveries and disappointments: Leipzig, 1830–33.
Schumann left Heidelberg for Leipzig in September 1830 and by 20 October he had settled into Wieck’s home. His claim that he devoted up to seven hours daily to piano practice is supported by the near cessation of composition in late 1830 and early 1831, and also by the suspension of his diary. But by December 1830, when he wrote to his mother of his desire to study with Hummel in Weimar, Schumann had already become disenchanted with Wieck, whose chief interest lay in the promotion of his daughter Clara’s career.
Although relatively little is known of Schumann’s activities in the first part of 1831, the period surrounding his 21st birthday in June of that year emerges as a critical phase, musically, intellectually and personally. Soon after arriving in Leipzig in autumn 1830 he was introduced to the composer Heinrich Dorn, conductor at the city theatre, by his friend Willibald von der Lühe. In mid-July of the following year he began theoretical studies with Dorn, proceeding from the ‘noble figured bass’ to chorale harmonization, canon and double counterpoint. According to a communication from Dorn to Wasielewski, Schumann’s first biographer, the young musician proved to be an indefatigible worker, though on at least one occasion teacher and pupil ‘moistened the dry work at hand’ with a bottle of champagne.
Shortly before submitting to the rigours of contrapuntal study, Schumann became enthralled by the ‘new worlds’ revealed to him in E.T.A. Hoffmann’s writings, their weird blend of reality and fantasy motivating a response analogous to that occasioned by his earlier fascination with Jean Paul. As indicated in an entry for 5 June 1831 in his new diary (Leipziger Lebensbuch), Schumann considered writing a ‘poetic biography’ of Hoffmann and reworking his Bergwerke zu Falun as an opera libretto. Then on 8 June (his 21st birthday) he wrote in his diary: ‘It sometimes seems … as if my objective self wanted to separate itself completely from my subjective self, or as if I stood between my appearance and my actual being, between form and shadow’. In response to the dilemma of the split self or Doppelgänger, a major theme in the works of both Hoffmann and Jean Paul, Schumann decided (in the same entry) to give his ‘friends more beautiful and more fitting names’. Hence Wieck appears as ‘Meister Raro’ (‘exceptional master’), Clara as ‘Cilia’ (later he would also dub her ‘Chiara’), and Christel (perhaps a servant in Wieck’s house, she had been Schumann’s lover for at least a month) as ‘Charitas’. Several of the same characters recur in the preliminary material for Die Wunderkinder (‘child prodigies’), a novel dealing with the problematic situation of the artist that Schumann started to outline a week later. There his renamed friends were joined by virtuosos such as Paganini and Hummel, and by ‘Florestan the Improviser’. That the last was intended as a self-projection is confirmed by an entry in the Leipziger Lebensbuch of 1 July: ‘Completely new persons enter the diary from this day forward – two of my best friends … – Florestan and Eusebius’. If Schumann’s Florestan persona was the embodiment of his aspirations as a virtuoso, then Eusebius conforms to the image of a pensive cleric; within the next few years, Schumann made a specific association between ‘his’ Eusebius and St Eusebius the Confessor (pope 309–10), whose feast day (14 August), as he pointed out to the real and fictive Clara (‘Eusebius an Chiara’, 1835), is preceded by the namedays of ‘Aurora’ (13 August) and ‘Clara’ (12 August). Schumann noted these namedays in his Haushaltbücher (household account books) as late as 1853.
The birth of the child prodigies was likewise implicated in Schumann’s discovery of a new musical idol, Fryderyk Chopin, whose recently published variations for piano and orchestra on Mozart’s ‘Là ci darem la mano’ (op.2) he acquired sometime in May 1831. Frustrated by his inability to master the technical difficulties of the work, and speaking through his Eusebius persona, Schumann sketched a poetic critique of Chopin’s op.2 that links each variation with the characters and events of Don Giovanni. Entered into his diary on 17 July, the critique supplied the nucleus of the pathbreaking review (published in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, 7 December 1831) in which he hailed Chopin as a brilliant newcomer on the musical scene with the words: ‘Hats off, gentlemen, a genius!’
A gradual shift in Schumann’s view of himself, from composer-pianist to composer-critic, was precipitated by a physical complaint that was variously described in letters and diaries as an ‘ever-worsening weakness’ or ‘laming’ of the middle finger of his right hand, which became a source of ‘inner struggles’ beginning in October 1831. After a period of slight improvement, the finger was ‘completely stiff’ by June of the following year. While its precise cause still remains uncertain, the ailment can only have been exacerbated by Schumann’s use of a chiroplast, a practice to which Wieck vociferously objected. And although he tried a number of curative measures – animal baths (a grotesque remedy that required the patient to insert his hand into the entrails of a carcass), ‘electrical’ therapy and homeopathic treatment (involving strict attention to diet and the ingestion of a ‘tiny powder’) – none produced lasting results. 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’.
In November 1831, at the height of the inner struggles caused by the weakness in his right hand, the first of Schumann’s poetic cycles for piano, Papillons, appeared in print as op.2. While diminutive in scope, the 12 pieces that constitute the cycle have been the object of sustained attention because of both their complex genesis and the issues they raise concerning the relationship between musical creativity and literary inspiration. While earlier versions of nos.1–9 can be placed in Heidelberg, and nos.5 and 11 draw on the VIII polonaises of 1828, it is difficult to be certain when this material was subsumed under an overriding Papillons idea. It may have been from the critical phase around Schumann’s 21st birthday, when his interest in the notion of metamorphosis materialized in drafts for a cycle of poems entitled ‘Schmetterlinge’ (‘butterflies’ or papillons). His apparently contradictory statements on the links between his op.2 and the final chapters of Jean Paul’s Flegeljahre (narrative accounts of a masked ball and of Walt’s dream) raise further questions of interpretation. Writing to his mother and to the critic Ludwig Rellstab in April 1832, Schumann maintained that Papillons ‘actually transforms the masked ball [from Flegeljahre] into notes’, but in a letter of 22 August to his friend Henriette Voigt he asserted: ‘I’ve underlaid the text to the music, and not the reverse … Only the last piece … was inspired by Jean Paul’. While seemingly contradictory, these points of view merely emphasize that Jean Paul’s novel stands in both a reflective and a catalytic relation to Schumann’s keyboard cycle. Having orginally conceived Papillons in ten movements (as indicated in his sketchbooks), he may have decided to add another two in the summer of 1831 after rereading his favourite of Jean Paul’s works (a diary entry of 7 August speaks to a renewed interest in the author, as does a copy of Flegeljahre in which Schumann associates various passages with one of the ten-movement incarnations of the cycle).
In the masked-ball chapter of Flegeljahre, Jean Paul implies that life is a constellation of fragments awaiting the transfigurative touch of the poet, and it is perhaps here that the most compelling point of contact with Schumann’s composition can be located. Given the brevity of its constituent pieces, many of them tonally open-ended and featuring feigned openings or partial returns, Papillons aptly demonstrates the composer’s engagement with the phenomenology of the fragment. His fondness for quotation (exemplified here by the appearance of the popular ‘Grossvatertanz’ in the last movement) contributes to the mosaic-like effect his poetic cycles share with collections of literary fragments by figures such as Friedrich Schlegel and Novalis. And even though thematic recurrences lend a degree of coherence to Papillons, they form less a dense web than a gossamer tissue of premonitions and recollections.
Soon after Papillons was published in November 1831, Schumann began planning a sequel, though it was not until November 1832, however, that he informed Breitkopf of the completion of ‘XII Burlesken (Burle) after the manner of Papillons’ (while some of these pieces may have found their way into the Albumblätter op.124, published in 1854, the majority have not resurfaced). The Papillons idea also informs the Intermezzos op.4, which the composer himself described as ‘longer Papillons’. First conceived as a set of ‘Pièces phantastiques’, and completed between April and July 1832, the Intermezzos also reflect Schumann’s study of Marpurg’s Abhandlung von der Fuge in their enrichment of keyboard texture through imitative passages.
Schumann’s cultivation of the musical fragment in 1831 and 1832 was complemented by a number of works in what he later called the ‘higher forms’. The Allegro op.8 first served as the opening movement of a piano sonata in B minor which occupied him late in 1831 and early in 1832. As in the op.7 Toccata, Schumann attempts to mediate between virtuoso style and musical substance, the solution here entailing the integration of cadenza-like sections into the formal argument of the work. While the Allegro was displaced from its orginal context in a large (though unfinished) work, so, conversely, the Fandango in F♯ minor completed between May and September 1832 ultimately formed the basis for the first movement of the Piano Sonata in F♯ minor op.11 (finished by 1835). This dialectic between part and whole, fragment and higher form, continued to fuel Schumann’s creativity thoughout the 1830s and beyond.
Just as the pivotal phase around Schumann’s 21st birthday was marked by reactions to E.T.A. Hoffmann and Chopin, so the corresponding period in 1832 was dominated by a response to figures as diverse as Paganini, Bach and Beethoven. In a diary entry of 20 April 1832, Schumann alluded to a plan to make Paganini’s Caprices into ‘studies for pianists who want to improve their technique’. By June, the first instalment of the project was complete: transcriptions of six caprices published that autumn as Etudes pour le pianoforte op.3. While arranging Paganini’s Caprice no.16 (G minor), Schumann was ‘visited’ by a mesmerizing image of the violinist ‘in a magic circle’. A similar series of Paganini transcriptions followed in the spring and summer of the following year (VI Etudes de concert op.10).
Schumann expressed his awe of Bach’s universality in a diary entry of 14 May 1832: ‘J.S. Bach did everything – he was a human being through and through’. By July, the fugues of Das wohltemperirte Clavier had become his personal ‘grammar’. Schumann’s reception of Bach took shape not only in the ‘many contrapuntal studies’ mentioned in the Projektenbuch for 1832, but also in the genre of the keyboard miniature. A partially preserved Burla in G minor (probably one of a pair of Burle mentioned in an August diary entry) employs a number of contrapuntal techniques including close imitation and variations over a quasi-cantus firmus.
Schumann’s study of Beethoven’s symphonic works led to an observation on the nature of musical development noted in his diary during the spring of 1832: ‘If you want to develop, then really make something out of an otherwise ordinary passage … In this, Beethoven, like Jean Paul, offers a splendid ideal’. Although a series of ‘Acht Bilder, nach den Symphonien Beethovens’ (listed under ‘plans’ in a diary entry of 29 April) failed to materialize, two other projects probably undertaken about this time attest Schumann’s growing appreciation of Beethoven. The fourth of the so-called Wiede sketchbooks includes partially completed piano reductions of the Adagio from Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony and the third Leonore overture. The same sketchbook transmits drafts for a set of 11 Etüden in Form freier Variationen über ein Beethovensches Thema (woo31), on the theme of the second movement (Allegretto) of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Two further versions of the set, in which Schumann abandoned the virtuoso style of the Abegg Variations, are preserved in manuscripts perhaps dating from 1833, though the work as a whole was not published during the composer’s lifetime; only the fifth variation from the second version appeared in print, as no.2 (‘Leides Ahnung’) in the Albumblätter op.124.
Turning away from the keyboard genres that had occupied him for the past four years, Schumann started writing a symphony in G minor (woo29) during the autumn of 1832, his decision at once reflecting the scuttling of his plans for a career as a virtuoso pianist and inspired by his study of Beethoven’s symphonies. Some of the material in the exposition of the opening movement can be traced to an unusual source: a family of sketches associated with Schumann’s plan, initially broached in a letter to his mother of December 1830, to write an opera based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The first movement was ready for a performance in Zwickau on 18 November (fig.2 ), but while Clara Wieck’s rendition of Herz’s Bravura Variations in the same programme caused a sensation, Schumann’s offering elicited a mixed response, according to Wieck, because it was ‘too thinly orchestrated’. A revised version of the movement was presented in Schneeberg (home of his brother Karl and sister-in-law Rosalie) in mid-February 1833, Schumann in the meantime having drafted the second movement and sketched portions of the third (the former exists in two markedly different versions). Sketches for the finale date from March to May 1833, and contain fugal elaborations of the motif that later served as the bass theme of the Impromptus op.5. The first movement was performed once again at Clara’s ‘grand concert’ of 29 April at the Leipzig Gewandhaus, its limited success making painfully clear to Schumann that the path to success as a composer would be an arduous one. In addition to its obvious allusions to the ‘Eroica’ Symphony, the first movement of the G minor Symphony demonstrates a deeper affinity with Beethoven; its argument proceeds less from a theme than from a configuration of brief motifs capable of linear development and contrapuntal combination. Similarly, the second movement (in its presumably later version, Andantino con moto – Intermezzo quasi scherzo) counterbalances its references to the Allegretto of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony with digressive formal strategies very much of Schumann’s own making.
5. The music critic: Leipzig, 1833–4.
Schumann located the initiation of his ‘richest and most active period’ in the year 1833. Unfortunately, our knowledge of the first part of this phase is hampered by the suspension of his diary for much of the period between March 1833 and October 1837. Thus, for documentary information on his fortunes (and misfortunes) during the mid-1830s, we must rely on letters and a series of lapidary notes copied in Vienna on the evening of 28 November 1838.
The discontinuation of the diary may be linked to Schumann’s attempt to pursue a full-time career as a composer. In addition to his work on the G minor Symphony, which commanded his attention until May 1833, he completed a second volume of Paganini transcriptions (op.10) between April and July, and drafted the Impromptus op.5 in late May. During the spring and summer he probably also completed the revised versions of the Toccata and the Etüden, and may have begun the piano sonatas in F♯ minor and G minor (the andantino of the latter in fact dates from 1830), and the variations on Schubert’s ‘Sehnsuchtswalzer’ (a conflation of d365 no.2 and d972 no.2) as well. Several of these works exemplify Schumann’s imaginative rethinking of the keyboard variation form. The sketches for the Sehnsuchtswalzer variations speak to his desire to avoid the sectional nature of the traditional design through the addition of connective ‘ritornelli’. The introductory movement of these unfinished variations later supplied the material for the ‘Préambule’ to Carnaval. According to Schumann, the Impromptus sur une Romance de Clara Wieck ‘may be viewed as a new type of variation’, a probable reference to the grounding of the work in a pair of freely elaborated ideas: the initial bass theme (its falling 5ths first came to Schumann after he and Clara devoted a sight-reading session to Bach’s fugues in May 1832) and the slightly altered melody of Clara’s Romance variée op.3 (the opening of which bears an uncanny resemblance to a four-bar melody Schumann sketched well before Clara wrote her Romance). The first in an impressive series of ‘Clara’ pieces, Schumann’s op.5 summons up, develops and then gradually effaces Clara’s theme, restoring it as a fleeting reminiscence only at the last moment. The poetic effect of this procedure, which turns on the transformation of actuality into memory, was somewhat undercut in the revised version of the Impromptus published in 1850.
Schumann’s composing came to a standstill in the summer of 1833. Stricken with malarial fever in July and distraught over the death of his brother Julius and of his sister-in-law Rosalie within months of each other, he fell into a deep depression, the first of more or less evenly spaced and progressively worsening episodes that would complicate his life in the ensuing decades. The night of 17–18 October 1833, he noted in Vienna in November 1838, was the ‘most frightful’ of his life. Seized by the fear of going mad, and plagued by suicidal thoughts, he sought medical advice, but was merely told: ‘Find yourself a woman; she’ll cure you in no time’. By late November his neurosis had begun to abate, but lingering fears – of heights and of sleeping alone – caused him to move from a fifth-floor to a first-floor apartment and to share his lodgings with an old room-mate (a ‘good-hearted fellow’ named Carl Günther).
Schumann reported to his mother on 27 November that his ‘return to life came about only gradually, and through hard work’. Much of this work involved the establishment of the musical journal to which he had given some thought already in the previous March. By June, he and a group of like-minded associates – including the pianist Julius Knorr, the painter and composer J.P. Lyser, the music critic E.A. Ortlepp and the philosopher J.A. Wendt – began to gather at Friedrich Hofmeister’s music shop; later in the year they assembled weekly at the Kaffeebaum, a tavern operated by Andreas Poppe. Sitting at the head of the table, puffing on a cigar, a mug of beer at his side, Schumann presided over a group united in its displeasure over the rule of empty virtuosity in the concert hall and italianate frivolity in the opera house. The journal envisaged by Schumann and his colleagues would ‘erect a barrier against convention’, and might also provide the mastermind of the venture with the ‘definite social standing’ he lacked.
Schumann’s recovery from the neurotic spell of October and November 1833 was further expedited through his contact with Ludwig Schunke, the gifted young pianist who came into his life in December ‘like a star’. By the spring of the following year they had taken rooms together. While at this time Schumann slipped into a ‘frequently dissolute lifestyle’ in which his new friend may have shared, his relationship with Schunke was not without artistic consequences. The latter’s Variations concertantes on Schubert’s Trauerwalzer (d365 no.2) owe something to Schumann’s Sehnsuchtswalzer variations. Schumann in turn dedicated the final version of his Toccata to Schunke, who, not surprisingly, soon attained a prominent position in Schumann’s ‘Davidsbund’.
By the mid-1830s the notion of a band of artists poised to ward off philistinism was hardly new. What E.T.A. Hoffmann called the ‘serapiontic’ principle lay at the heart of organizations such as Weber’s Harmonischer Verein (founded 1810), the statutes of which exhorted its members to protect the art-loving world from inundation by works of mediocre quality. Leipzig’s own Tunnel über der Pleisse, a society that met weekly to consider literary and musical matters, and whose members included Wieck and Lyser, would have offered Schumann a direct model for his Davidsbund. The distinguishing feature of the latter, however, was its emergence at the juncture between imagination and reality; or, as Schumann put it in the introduction to his collected writings (1854): ‘The Davidsbund runs like a red thread through my journal, uniting poetry and truth in a humorous manner’. Traceable to the birth of the child prodigies in June 1831 (Die Wunderkinder), the Davidsbündler idea became the generating force behind Schumann’s journalistic endeavours in the mid- and late 1830s. Schumann’s partly real, partly imaginary band of crusaders against musical philistinism made its official début between December 1833 and January 1834 in ‘Der Davidsbündler’, a mixture of fanciful prose, critique and aphorisms (with attributions to Florestan, Eusebius and Raro, among others) published in Der Komet.
The contract establishing the Davidsbund’s own journal, the Neue Leipziger Zeitschrift für Musik, was drawn up in late March 1834. Planned to appear twice weekly, and published by Christian Hartmann, a local book dealer, the journal was placed in the hands of an editorial board consisting of Knorr (editor-in-chief), Schumann, Schunke and Wieck. The prospectus, printed as the lead item in the first issue (3 April 1834), promised theoretical articles, belletristic pieces, reviews of contemporary compositions and reports from foreign correspondents. Although Schumann boasted to his mother that the venture was off to an auspicious start, dissension soon broke out. Taking advantage of a dispute involving Knorr and Wieck, Hartmann enlisted legal counsel in an attempt to seize editorial control over the journal. Matters were further complicated by Schunke’s untimely death in December. Schumann saved the enterprise from collapse by negotiating a new contract that named him sole owner and editor. The ‘visionary of the group’, as Schumann later described himself, proved that he could be an astute businessman when the situation demanded it. Rechristened the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, the journal first appeared under Schumann’s editorship on 2 January 1835.
Although Schumann’s activities in 1834 were dominated by his efforts on behalf of the journal, the same year brought important developments of a personal sort. The founding of the journal in April coincided with his meeting Ernestine von Fricken, a young woman from the village of Asch; she was a piano student of Wieck’s and the illegitimate daughter (though Schumann would not learn this fact until August 1835) of Captain I.F. von Fricken. The intensity of their relationship escalated during the summer, so that by September they were engaged. Understandably, Schumann’s compositional productivity slackened in 1834. Apart from an incompletely preserved (and never published) set of keyboard variations on Chopin’s Nocturne op.15 no.3, a project dating from late in the year, work on the F♯ minor Piano Sonata is also a possibility. While in Zwickau in December, he began the composition that would become Carnaval and also set to work on the Etudes symphoniques.
These compositional projects notwithstanding, Schumann’s designation of the year 1834 as the ‘most important’ in his life is far more justified by his cultivation of a fundamentally new brand of music criticism, its novelty resting on two factors: the critic’s historical awareness and his sensitivity to the problems inherent in employing a verbal medium to describe musical processes. In his New Year editorial for the Neue Zeitschrift issue of 2 January 1835, Schumann wrote that his journal aimed
to acknowledge the past and its creations and to draw attention to the fact that new artistic beauties can only be strengthened by so pure a source; next, to oppose the recent past as an inartistic period with only a notable increase in mechanical dexterity to show for itself; and finally, to prepare for and hasten the advent of a new, poetic future.
Underlying this stance is a tripartite, teleological philosophy of history wherein the past is viewed as a nurturing source for the present, the present as a site of imperfection and the future as the poetic age towards which the past and present should aspire. But while Schumann’s scheme resonates with the outlook on history already espoused by the Jena Romantics, he did not construe music-historical progress as a purely continuous phenomenon. On the contrary, the relationship between past and future was characterized by striking leaps and reversals. In Schumann’s opinion, the ‘profound combinatorial power, the poetry, and the humour of modern music trace their origins to Bach’. Conversely, this mode of thought enabled him to make the startling assertion that ‘most of Bach’s fugues are character pieces of the highest kind’. Although Schumann’s judgments ride roughshod over eminent figures, including Domenico Scarlatti and Haydn, his sense of a historical process governed by both continuities and discontinuities proved to be remarkably prescient.
Schumann’s diagnosis of the present constitutes the most radical aspect of his philosophy of music history. A site of apparently contradictory trends, the present reflects the whole of the larger tripartite framework in microcosm. This notion was accorded a decidedly political slant in ‘Der Psychometer’ (1834), where Schumann divided his contemporaries into three parties: ‘classicists’, ‘juste-milieuists’ (middle-of-the-roaders or philistines), and ‘romantics’. But he hardly viewed the products of the latter group (whose members included Mendelssohn, Chopin, William Sterndale Bennett, Hiller and Schumann himself) as embodiments of perfection; indeed, it was precisely their imperfections that held out the most promise for the poetic age to come. This conviction lay behind Schumann’s interest in light and even trivial music, in the recent tendency towards fragmentary musical utterance and in the demise of classical forms. The best fugues, he maintained, are the ones the public mistakes for waltzes; musical fragments (like his own Papillons) aptly reflect the ‘half-torn pages’ of life itself; and if genres such as variations, the sonata, the concerto and the symphony were on the wane, then a series of ‘new forms’, the capriccio and the fantasy among them, were emerging to take their place.
The poetic language of Schumann’s criticism, a response to the dilemma of illuminating a non-verbal art form through the medium of words, is notable for its evocation of the original that called it forth and by its reliance on a multi-layered perspectival technique. In the 1854 introduction to his collected writings, he provided a rationale for the latter strategy: ‘In order to express different points of view on artistic matters, it seemed appropriate to invent contrasting artist-characters, of whom Florestan and Eusebius were the most important, with Master Raro occupying a mediating position’. Close analysis plays a major role in Schumann’s lengthy review of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique (NZM, iii, 1835, pp.1–2, 33–5, 37–8, 41–8, 49–51), not as an end in itself, but as a means of defusing the charge of formlessness levelled against the work by Fétis and others.
Although Schumann eventually looked upon his journalistic activity as a drain on his time and energy (in 1844 he sold the Neue Zeitschrift to K.F. Brendel), it nonetheless enabled him to resolve the longstanding struggle between his inclinations towards poetry and music. Moreover, his writings stand in reciprocal relationship to his compositional projects. Just as much of his poetic criticism adopts an almost musical style, many of his compositions can be interpreted as critiques in sound of past and contemporary practice.
6. The Davidsbündler comes of age: Leipzig, 1834–8.
Schumann completed two significant compositions early in 1835: Carnaval op.9 and the Etudes symphoniques op.13 (both of which were probably begun late in 1834). These works grew out of his relationship with Ernestine von Fricken. The generating motifs of Carnaval derive from the name of her home town, Asch; agents of a network of subliminal connections among the cycle’s 21 pieces, these ‘Sphinxes’ (as Schumann called them) imbue the work with a measure of the ‘Witz’ (wit) so highly prized by Jean Paul and the Jena Romantics. Originally titled Fasching: Schwänke auf vier Noten für Pianoforte von Florestan, the cycle brings together a colourful array of musical fragments titled after characters who run the gamut from members of the Davidsbund (some disguised as commedia dell’arte figures), to Clara Wieck, Ernestine, Paganini and Chopin. The Etudes symphoniques, based on a melody purportedly by Ernestine’s father (an amateur flautist), arose from an altogether more serious purpose: the liberation of the variation form from the conventions that were imposed on it by the bourgeois salon. At times contrapuntally dense, often syntactically free, and consistently challenging from a technical point of view, the Etudes symphoniques (first version, published in 1837) unfold a symmetrical structure around strategically placed variations.
Our relatively limited knowledge of Schumann’s activities after the completion of this contrasting pair of works is particularly unfortunate in light of his assertion that the year 1835 was ‘even more important in its consequences’ than 1834. No doubt the Neue Zeitschrift claimed a large part of his attention. Moreover, later in the year he had considerably broadened his circle of acquaintances and friends, in part thanks to regular attendance at the salon of Henriette Voigt, doyenne of Leipzig’s cultural élite. A brief encounter on 27 September with Chopin, then en route to Carlsbad, was followed on 4 October by his first meeting with the newly appointed director of the Leipzig Gewandhaus concerts, Felix Mendelssohn. Founded on mutual respect, veneration for the composers of the German classical tradition, admiration of Jean Paul and a passion for chess and billiards, their friendship endured until Mendelssohn’s death in 1847.
The most significant of the consequences of Schumann’s 25th year, however, was the burgeoning of his love for the 15-year-old Clara Wieck. Flirtatious exchanges in the spring of 1835 led to their first kiss on the steps outside Wieck’s house in November and mutual declarations of love the next month in Zwickau, where Clara appeared in concert. Having learnt in August of Ernestine von Fricken’s illegitimate birth and fearful that her limited means would force him to earn his living like a ‘day-labourer’, Schumann engineered a complete break towards the end of the year. But his idyll with Clara was soon brought to an unceremonious end. Her father became aware of their nocturnal trysts during the Christmas holidays and summarily called them to a halt.
Clara was deeply implicated in Schumann’s compositional efforts in the latter half of 1835. Dedicated to her ‘by Florestan and Eusebius’, the F♯ minor Sonata on which Schumann had been working intermittently for two years was completed by August and figures in an allusive web that may be seen as an aesthetic counterpart to their intensifying relationship. The Allegro vivace of the first movement (a revision of the 1832 Fandango) develops a drum-like motif culled from Clara’s own Scène fantastique: Ballet de revenants; the middle section of Clara’s piece drew in turn on the dactylic rhythms of Schumann’s Fandango. The Piano Sonata in G minor that Schumann provisionally completed in October was less obviously linked with Clara, at least at this point. Though often cited as one of his most classically structured works, the composition in fact brims with Florestanian pathos, especially in its concluding Presto passionato (later replaced by a far tamer Rondo), a veritable encyclopedia of complex rhythmic and metric effects.
Schumann had good reason to refer to 1836 as his ‘sad year’. On 14 January Wieck sent Clara to Dresden, where Schumann, undeterred even by the death of his mother, met her secretly in the second week of February. His hopes for a reconciliation with Wieck proved ill-founded; in a letter of 1 March he reported that his old teacher refused him to have contact with Clara ‘under pain of death’. The enforced separation threw Schumann into a state of utter despair. As he later confided to Clara, he tried to banish her from his thoughts by initiating a liaison with a woman who had already ‘partially ensnared’ him, a reference either to Christel or, more likely, to the mistress he had taken by mid-October, known only as ‘La Faneuse’ (‘the haymaker’).
In spite of his dejection, Schumann cultivated a number of fruitful artistic ties during the second half of the year. By the end of the summer he had become friendly with Ferdinand David, leader of the Gewandhaus Orchestra and of a string quartet whose reading sessions, often held at Schumann’s new lodgings in Ritterstrasse, may have inspired his plans to write a piano trio and a piano quartet. On 9 September Schumann spent an ‘unforgettable’ day with Chopin, whose G minor Ballade op.23 struck him as the composer-pianist’s ‘most original if not most ingenious work’. Chopin may also have treated Schumann and his colleagues to a performance of a preliminary version of his second Ballade (op.38). Late in October Schumann established a warm bond with William Sterndale Bennett, who had gone to Leipzig to study with Mendelssohn and was to remain there until June 1837.
Schumann brought only two compositions to (provisional) completion in 1836, but both are of imposing dimensions. The work he first drafted as a five-movement piano sonata in F minor and completed by June was published as the three-movement Concert sans orchestre op.14 in September (in the process of transformation from sonata to Concert, two scherzos were discarded and the original finale was replaced by a new one; the second of the scherzos was restored when Schumann reissued the work as a Grande sonate in 1853). A series of four rhapsodic variations on a no longer extant ‘Andantino de Clara Wieck’ serves as the composition’s affective centre of gravity. In that Schumann’s variations supply the melodic and tonal closure lacking in Clara’s theme (or the portion of it he varies), they act as musical emblems for the longed-for union with his beloved.
The second major compositional project of 1836 was equally bound up with Clara. In June he drafted a work called Ruines: fantaisie pour le pianoforte; probably the title refers to what later became the first movement of the C major Fantasie op.17. When in early September he had an idea for a contribution to the committee soliciting funds for a Beethoven memorial, he returned to the single-movement fantasy, added two more movements, and offered the work in this form to the publisher C.F. Kistner, to whom he wrote on 19 December: ‘Florestan and Eusebius would very much like to do something for Beethoven’s monument, and to that end have composed: “Ruinen. Trophaeen. Palmen. Grosse Sonate f. d. Pianof. für Beethovens Denkmal”’. Unable to find a venue for his ‘grand sonata’, he set it aside until January or February 1838, but did not see it through to publication until March or April 1839, the title having been altered in the meantime from Dichtungen: Ruinen, Siegesbogen, Sternbild to Fantasie.
Schumann’s op.17 occupies the delicate middle ground between art and experience. The composer projects his own voices through those of his alter egos Florestan and Eusebius, who dominate the second and third movements respectively, and collaborate on the first. Moreover, the first movement (which Schumann called a ‘deep lament for Clara’) represents a highpoint in his search for ‘new forms’. Its sonata-form design interrupted by an evocative character-piece, ‘Im Legendenton’, the movement culminates in an allusion to the final song of Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte (a pre-publication version of the final movement ends with the same music). The deeply personal message of the Fantasie is thus conveyed through a dialectic of ‘higher’ (or larger) and smaller forms.
In December 1836 Schumann experienced something of a reawakening from the abject despair to which he had succumbed the year before. During January and February 1837 he sketched a piano sonata in F minor, no traces of which survive, and even thought of writing a symphony in E♭. Overlapping with these projects and continuing into March was a period of study devoted to Bach’s Art of Fugue and organ chorale preludes. Throughout the winter and spring Schumann had little contact with Clara, although they lived near each other, but in May he was no doubt pleased to learn that Carl Banck, a singing teacher and composer who had taken more than a passing interest in Clara, had been banished from Wieck’s house. The gifted British pianist Anna Robena Laidlaw entered Schumann’s circle during the early summer and, like several young women before her, inspired him to compose. Drafted in July and dedicated to Laidlaw, the Fantasiestücke op.12 occupy a pivotal position in Schumann’s output. The first of his cycles to draw on the world of E.T.A. Hoffmann (the title comes from the poet’s Fantasiestücke in Callots Manier), it inaugurates a shift in emphasis from larger to smaller forms. At the same time, the work differs in important respects from Schumann’s earlier cycles of poetic miniatures, given the tendency of its individual pieces towards greater breadth and structural self-sufficiency, and their regular alternation between Eusebian introspection and Florestanian impulsiveness.
In early August, Clara broke the silence that had separated them for 18 months. Acting through Ernst Becker, a lawyer and amateur pianist, she invited Schumann to a forthcoming performance featuring three of his Etudes symphoniques. He in turn wrote to her on 13 August, asking for a ‘simple yes’ as a token of her willingness to present her father with a letter in which Wieck was formally requested to bless Schumann’s ‘spiritual bond’ with Clara. She responded positively on 15 August, thus sealing what Schumann would call ‘the dawn of a second alliance’. Aided by Clara’s trusted maid Nanni, the pair began the remarkable correspondence that would include 275 letters by the end of 1839.
The formalization of his engagement to Clara also stimulated Schumann’s creativity. Less than a week after receiving her ‘yes’, he set to work on the Davidsbündlertänze op.6, and he completed a draft by mid-September. The cycle proclaims its debt to Clara’s muse at the outset with a quotation from the fifth piece, a mazurka in G, of her Soirées musicales (also op.6). Whether Schumann enciphers Clara’s name in several of the cycle’s dances, as has been suggested by some writers, is less clear. The musical cipher system described in Johann Klüber’s Kryptographik of 1809 (the manual that Schumann is said to have used to render ‘Clara’ in tones, though it is nowhere mentioned in his writings) fails to yield anything remotely resembling the pitch configurations often identified as ‘Clara’ ciphers (C–B–A–G♯–A and D–C♯–B–A♯–B).
In the months after completing the Davidsbündlertänze, Schumann entered a period of intense emotional turmoil. His plea for Wieck’s blessing had met with a sharp rebuff, though the older man sanctioned their meeting in public and exchanging letters while Clara was on tour. But so far as Schumann could determine, Wieck was interested only in ‘selling’ his daughter to the wealthiest suitor and in arranging lucrative concert tours. Still, October opened auspiciously with a ‘blissful meeting with Clara’. (At this time, Schumann began to keep daily records of his expenditures; eventually the entries in these Haushaltbücher would document his compositional activities and even his fluctuating psychological states.) His subsequent lapse into melancholia resulted from two factors: Wieck’s ‘crackpot’ alternation between friendliness and irascibility; and Clara’s departure, in mid-October, on a concert tour that kept her away from Leipzig until May of the following year.
In late October 1837 Schumann turned again to the study of counterpoint, assembling the results of his ‘fugal frenzy’ (excerpts from Marpurg’s treatise and drafts of fugal expositions) into the manuscript known as Fugengeschichte. But by mid-November he was again in the throes of depression. Exhausted by his work for the Neue Zeitschrift and further debilitated by bouts of heavy drinking, he suffered ‘awful relapses’ on 18 and 19 December and a ‘horrid unhinging’ on Christmas evening.
Schumann recovered from this neurotic spell by sheer determination. Having weaned himself away from Poppe’s tavern, he was composing ‘in a state of enchantment over Clara’ by the end of January 1838. A group of keyboard waltzes and an étude in F♯ minor (none of which survive) initiated a spurt of creativity that extended until May and whose products included the Novelletten op.21, Kinderscenen op.15 and Kreisleriana op.16. Begun in late January or early February and drafted by April, the Novelletten bring together diverse and seemingly incompatible tendencies. Their often richly imitative textures represent an internalization of Schumann’s recent study of Bach’s Das wohltemperirte Clavier. ‘I’m playing with forms’, he wrote to Clara while at work on the cycle on 11 February, and in the same letter implored her to read Flegeljahre. His attempt to imbue the Novelletten with the quality of a Jean-Paulian narrative resulted in fragmented reprises, the embedding of smaller within larger structures and an evolutionary approach to melodic design in several of the cycle’s larger pieces. Clara herself puts in an appearance in the eighth and final piece of the set, where a ‘Stimme aus der Ferne’ quotes from her Nocturne op.6 no.2.
While still occupied with the Novelletten in February and March, Schumann drafted up to 30 ‘cute little things’ from which he extracted 13 to form Kinderscenen. Its title notwithstanding, the first of his keyboard cycles to achieve something approaching commercial success was not conceived for children, but rather, as he emphasized in a letter of 6 October 1848 to Carl Reinecke, as ‘reflections of an adult for other adults’. Perhaps for the first time in his career, Schumann struck the delicate balance between art and artlessness that was to take on increasing importance in the works of the years ahead.
Before finishing the Kinderscenen, and perhaps moved by recent hearings of Beethoven’s op.131, his favourite among the late quartets, Schumann tried his hand at writing a string quartet of his own. According to a letter of 3 April to Joseph Fischhof, the work was well on the way to completion by that time, though corroborating musical sources are lacking. Another quartet was contemplated in June.
In the meantime, Schumann had begun a new keyboard cycle in late April. Its title derived from the ‘Kreisleriana’ section of Hoffmann’s Fantasiestücke, the work was provisionally drafted by early May (Schumann’s claim to have completed it in four days was probably an exaggeration) and further polished in July and September. The composer’s identification with Hoffmann’s eccentric Kapellmeister is hardly surprising; both Schumann and Kreisler alternated between depression and rapture, and both were confirmed devotees of Bach. Kreisler’s abrupt shifts of mood find a musical parallel in the contrast between daredevil virtuosity and gentle lyricism, a contrast often grounded in the tonal pairing of G minor and B♭. Thus the dualism previously associated with Florestan and Eusebius, the leading players of the Davidsbund, is placed in even bolder relief.
7. Viennese prospects, 1838–9.
On 19 March 1838 Schumann learnt that Clara had enjoyed a major triumph in Vienna and had been honoured with the title ‘Imperial-Royal Chamber Virtuoso’. That day he wrote to his brothers Eduard and Karl outlining his intention to settle with Clara in Vienna, where he planned to continue to edit the Neue Zeitschrift under the auspices of a Viennese firm, and where Clara, using her influence with the empress, might obtain a teaching post at the conservatory. A preliminary visit to the Austrian capital would be necessary before making the final move, planned for no later than Easter 1840.
When Clara returned to Leipzig on 15 May 1838, Schumann had just entered another depressive phase. Anxiety over his attempts to establish business relations with the Viennese publishers Mechetti and Diabelli, over-indulgence in drink, Wieck’s steadfast refusal to come to terms and Clara’s departure in early July for a month-long stay in Dresden all contributed to Schumann’s mental near-collapse on 31 July. Recovery followed rapidly as he began to prepare for the exploratory trip to Vienna. He and Clara secretly exchanged farewells in mid-September and again later in the month, when he circled back to Leipzig from Zwickau. On 27 September he departed by mail coach for Vienna, ready to take his ‘first step as a mature man’.
Schumann reached his destination on 3 October, hatless and covered with dust but in unusually high spirits. His mood darkened considerably, however, when he failed to make headway with either the publishers Haslinger and Diabelli, or the Austrian court censor, whose approval was necessary if the Neue Zeitschrift was to be issued from Vienna by January 1839, as Schumann hoped. Suspecting that Wieck was responsible for his cool reception by the Viennese authorities, he resigned himself, by late November, to keeping his journal in Leipzig.
In spite of this setbeck, Schumann took some consolation in Vienna’s rich cultural life. Regular visits to the opera and theatre rekindled his interest in dramatic music. In the renowned pianist Sigismond Thalberg he found a ‘modest and decorous’ artist among a social élite that he otherwise considered ‘a bunch of gossips’. Writing to Raymund Härtel on 6 January 1839, Schumann could barely contain his excitement over the cache of unpublished compositions by Schubert he had recently been shown by the latter’s brother Ferdinand. Deeply impressed by the monumental Symphony in C (d944), he arranged for its première at a Gewandhaus concert under Mendelssohn’s direction (21 March 1839). In his celebrated review of the symphony (NZM, xii, 1840), Schumann extolled the work’s ‘heavenly length – like a thick novel in four volumes by Jean Paul’. The review was written with a steel pen Schumann had discovered on Beethoven’s grave, in a symbolic gesture prefiguring the stylistic synthesis he would achieve in his own Symphony in B♭ op.38.
When it became clear that he would not find a new home for his journal in Vienna, Schumann turned to writing and composing. In November he began a ‘Brautbuch’ for Clara in which he recorded landmark dates in their relationship and adages on married life. An important article for the Neue Zeitschrift on the concerto occupied him in December. By early in the new year, he had even taken a composition student, a ‘hectic fellow’ named Rösle.
After six months of relative inactivity as a composer, Schumann was slow to establish a regular rhythm of creativity. Although he finished a little piece for Clara on 12 November (Fata Morgana, later published as no.14 of the Albumblätter op.124), the following weeks brought only fitful starts on a variety of projects. Yet, within a month, however, he had overcome his creative block, and soon a young runaway, Franz Jüllich, was acting as his amanuensis in exchange for lessons. Before leaving Vienna, he could boast of having made significant progress on about a dozen keyboard pieces. Responding to Clara’s request to simplify the ‘far too difficult’ last movement of the G minor Piano Sonata, Schumann drafted a completely new finale in mid-December. Before the year was out, he had probably written two nocturnes (subsequently issued as the first two items of Bunte Blätter) and the Scherzo, Gigue and Romanze which he later rounded off with a Fughette and published as op.32. At the turn of the year came sketches for an Allegro in C minor and by 24 January 1839 a draft for a concerto movement in D minor. It is also likely that the Arabeske op.18 and Blumenstück op.19 were completed during the same month. Another work from this period, which Schumann called Guirlande and described intriguingly as ‘variations, but not on a theme’, is probably lost. But in the composer’s view none of these pieces was as significant as the Humoreske op.20 on which he worked between January and mid-March. At the same time he produced sketches and drafts for Faschingsschwank aus Wien op.26, though the work was not ready for publication until May or June 1840, and did not actually appear in print until August of the following year.
In a long diary entry of 20 March 1839, Schumann expressed a desire to leave Vienna within a fortnight. Then on 30 March he received word of his brother Eduard’s grave illness, alarming news that motivated his composition of four character-pieces collectively titled Leichenphantasie (‘Corpse Fantasy’). This grim designation was altered to Nachtstücke, an allusion to a series of eight stories by E.T.A. Hoffmann, when the work appeared as op.23 in June 1840. Schumann left Vienna on 4 April 1839, but when he arrived in Zwickau on 9 April, Eduard had already been dead for three days. His home town, Schumann noted in his diary, made the impression of a place ‘now completely extinct’.
The compositions of Schumann’s Viennese period cover a broad range of genres and styles. Works in the larger forms appear side-by-side with character-pieces and cycles of miniatures. In almost all of them, we sense the emergence of a more accessible strain in the composer’s art, a stylistic shift related to his desire to cultivate a larger market for his music. Most striking, however, is the tendency to conflate larger and smaller forms and a resultant dialectic between accessibility and esotericism. Although Schumann appeared to dismiss the Blumenstück (and the Arabeske as well) in a letter of 15 August 1839 as a work ‘for ladies’, it unfolds as a rhapsodic variation form on two ideas of which the first gradually yields primacy to the second. On the surface a kaleidoscopic array of miniatures, the Humoreske is in fact articulated into a series of four or five larger movements, the whole unified tonally by the pairing of G minor and B♭ (a dualism familiar from Kreisleriana) and thematically by a web of recurrent melodies. Conversely, the sequence of movements in Faschingsschwank aus Wien suggests the pattern of a sonata, but on reflection the ‘higher’ form emerges as a cycle of character-pieces in disguise. Schumann’s quotation of the Marseillaise in the first movement is only the most obvious sign of his attempt to strike a popular (even political) tone.
8. The battle for Clara, 1839–40.
Schumann’s return to Leipzig on 14 April 1839 coincided with disturbing news from Clara. Writing from Paris, she informed him of Wieck’s plan to disinherit her and confiscate her earnings unless she agreed to break off relations with Schumann. His scepticism of Wieck’s subsequent consent to their union, contingent upon Schumann’s ability to earn 2000 thalers per annum, proved well founded, for by the end of May Wieck had renewed some of his earlier demands, insisting further that the couple were not to live in Saxony during his lifetime. As a defensive measure Schumann drafted a petition, dated 8 June, to the court of appeal in Leipzig, requesting that body either to insist upon Wieck’s paternal consent or to grant permission for the plaintiffs to marry. Having sent the document to Paris for Clara’s signature, he vowed to hold her ‘aloft like a trophy won in the fiercest of battles’.
Schumann’s dealings with the composer Herrmann Hirschbach, author of several articles on Beethoven’s late string quartets for the Neue Zeitschrift, may have had a bearing on his turning to quartet composition at this time. In a letter of 13 June to Clara, he claimed to have begun two such works, both of them ‘just as good as Haydn’s’. Brief sketches for quartet movements in D and E♭ survive.
After failing to reach an agreement with Wieck in late June, and acting on the counsel of the lawyer Wilhelm Einert, Schumann submitted his petition to the Leipzig court on 16 July. On 19 August he and Clara met for the first time for nearly a year in the Leipzig suburb of Altenburg and later went to Zwickau, where they celebrated their reunion with extended sessions of four-hand piano playing. Back in Leipzig by the end of the month, they met (31 August) Archdeacon R.R. Fischer, the court-appointed mediator in their lawsuit, but were dismayed to find that Wieck, claiming urgent business in Dresden, had cancelled the appointment at the last moment. A private meeting between Wieck and Schumann on 24 September filled the latter with ‘gloomy forebodings’, and indeed, within a week Wieck attempted to postpone the court hearing set for 2 October, on the incredible grounds that the meeting with Fischer had not taken place. When Wieck failed to appear at the hearing (this time without even proffering an excuse), the court set a new date for 18 December.
The lull in the legal proceedings afforded Schumann time to give thought to composition after a lengthy hiatus. While he wrote to Clara (10 October) that he had begun about 50 new works, the only tangible result of his efforts was the G minor Fughette later issued as the last item of the Klavierstücke op.32. The Drei Romanzen op.28, drafted by 11 December, constitute a more substantial project. Schumann’s fondness for this set, the last in a rich series of keyboard works reaching back almost a decade, was perhaps rooted in its special relationship to Clara. The second of her own three Romances (completed in early 1839) features a variety of duet textures that Schumann emulated in the F♯ major Romanze (no.2) of his cycle.
In the meantime, Wieck had written an 11-page ‘Declaration’ in which drunkenness was only one of a litany of charges levelled at Schumann. While Wieck’s erratic behaviour at the hearing on 18 December damaged his credibility, the court acknowledged in its decision (delivered 4 January 1840) that his allegation regarding ‘the plaintiff’s tendency to drink’ might have some bearing on the case. Within days Wieck was circulating his declaration among concert managers and critics, and on 13 January he formally contested the court’s decision in a Deduktionsschrift submitted at the end of the month. Threatening to sue Wieck for slander, Schumann responded on 13 February with a written refutation. By now a master of postponement, Wieck managed to stretch from six weeks to six months the period granted him to prove that Schumann over-indulged in drink.
Although confident he would ultimately prevail, Schumann sought to strengthen his hand against Wieck by inquiring, through his friend Gustav Keferstein, about the possibility of obtaining the doctorate at the University of Jena. In early February he offered to demonstrate his scholarly aptitude by undertaking a long essay on the significance of music in Shakespearean drama, an exercise that proved unnecessary. After sending the university officials a curriculum vitae, representative articles from the Neue Zeitschrift and testimonials to his musical skills, he received the doctoral diploma from Jena on 28 February 1840.
Earlier in the same month, Schumann noted his work on ‘a rich harvest of songs’. Indeed, by January 1841 he had completed about 125 lieder, well over half his output in the genre. What he called his Liederjahr (‘Year of Song’) officially began on 1 February 1840 with a setting of the Schlusslied des Narren (op.127 no.5) from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. ‘How blissful it is to compose for the voice!’, he wrote to Clara late in February, by which time he had completed, among other things, the Heine Liederkreis op.24, a setting of Heine’s ballad Belsatzar (op.57), other lieder on Heine texts and settings of Goethe, Byron and Mosen as well. The latter, together with lieder on verses by Rückert and Burns, became the basis for the ‘wedding present’ that he finished in early April and published later that year as Myrthen op.25. A letter to Kistner of 18 February indicates that he was also contemplating an opera. No later than March he settled on Hoffmann’s Doge und Dogaressa, a tale whose ‘nobility and naturalness’ attracted him, but in May his collaboration with the librettist Julius Becker failed.
The slackening of Schumann’s productivity in early spring was due in part to his cultivation of a professional bond with Liszt, whom he heard in Dresden on 16 March and then accompanied to Leipzig. A mild depressive phase in the first part of April gave way to brighter spirits when Schumann departed, with Clara, for Berlin (home of her mother Marianne Bargiel, Wieck’s first wife and an ally in the suit against him). Having returned to Leipzig on 1 May, Schumann again immersed himself in vocal composition. Within three weeks he produced his ‘most profoundly Romantic’ work to date, a Liederkreis to texts by Eichendorff selected largely by Clara (op.39; when Schumann reissued the cycle in 1850, he replaced the opening song, Der frohe Wandersmann, with the brooding In der Fremde). This was followed by 20 Lieder und Gesänge on verses from Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo; completed on 1 June, the cycle was subsequently shortened by four songs and issued in 1844 as Dichterliebe op.48.
On 1 June Schumann also charged Wieck with defamation of character in a ‘Denunciation’ filed with the upper court in Dresden; it is not clear whether Wieck actually served his 18-day prison sentence for this offence. In his ‘Declaration’ of 7 July, Wieck conceded his inability to corroborate the charge of drunkenness against Schumann. Certain of victory, Schumann and Clara began their search for an apartment the following day, and before a week had elapsed Schumann was again immersed in the composition of lieder. By the end of the month he had completed a setting of Chamisso’s lyric cycle Frauenliebe und -leben op.42, Drei Gesänge op.31 on lyrics by the same poet, Fünf Lieder op.40 on texts by Hans Christian Andersen and a popular Greek verse (all translated by Chamisso), and two ensemble settings of poems by Geibel (op.29 nos.1 and 2). Although he started a cycle on texts by Robert Reinick (Sechs Gedichte op.36) late in July, it was not finished until 22 or 23 August.
This surge of creativity came to a temporary halt after a setting of Geibel’s Der Hidalgo (op.30 no.3) on 1 August. On the same day, the Leipzig court made public its ‘Erkenntniss’ of 18 July, the document granting legal permission for Schumann and Clara to marry. Wieck’s failure to contest the decision during the ten-day period allotted him by law was taken as a de facto admission of defeat, so that on 11 August, a year after the initiation of the suit, Schumann could write with relief in the Haushaltbuch: ‘happiest of days – end of the struggle’. With the posting of the banns on 16 and 30 August, the way was clear for the wedding to take place.
Although Schumann completed a few songs during the month of August, he devoted most of his energies to preparations for the forthcoming marriage ceremony. Meanwhile Clara had departed for a concert tour to Jena, Gotha, Erfurt and Weimar. Schumann paid her an unexpected visit in Weimar on 5 September, from which date they were ‘together for evermore’, as he noted in his diary. Finally, on 12 September, they were married in the village church at Schönefeld, a suburb of Leipzig. The simple ceremony was conducted by Pastor C.A. Wildenhahn, an old friend from Schumann’s Zwickau days.
Among the gifts Clara received from Schumann on 13 September, her 21st birthday, was a little book with ‘a very intimate meaning’. Maintained with varying degrees of regularity for nearly four years, and an invaluable source of information on the early phase of the couple’s life together, the Ehetagebuch (marriage diary) was to consist of weekly entries alternately written by Schumann and Clara. As a rule, Clara kept up her side of the exchange better than her husband, with entries richer in detail and more pointed in their assessments than his.
To judge from the diary, they rapidly settled into Biedermeier cosiness. A period of joint study in late September devoted to Bach’s fugues was followed in October by a continuation of Schumann’s investigation of the role of music in Shakespeare’s plays and by reading aloud from Jean Paul (an activity for which Clara showed little enthusiasm). Disagreements over the management of Clara’s career emerged as a source of tension that was to resurface in the years ahead. Though plans for a tour of Russia were put off because of a volatile political situation and an unwillingness to compete with Liszt, Clara made renewed requests in October and November for Schumann to accompany her on projected tours to Belgium, the Netherlands and Denmark. Wieck’s demand that Clara pay 60 thalers to have her piano removed from his house was a further cause of consternation in November.
While Schumann understandably composed little in the weeks after his wedding, he resumed creative work in early October with a set of three vocal duets (op.43) and the unusually scored Zigeunerleben (op.29 no.3, for vocal quartet, piano and optional triangle and tambourine). Between 13 and 17 October he even tried his hand at a symphony, a venture, as he put it, ‘where not every first step is successful’. Regardless of whether this attempt can be linked with sketches in the Bonn Universitätsbibliothek for a symphonic movement in C minor, it was hardly a success, and Schumann soon returned to vocal composition with settings of texts by Eichendorff (op.45 no.2) and J.G. Seidl (op.53 no.1). His technically irreproachable if aesthetically undistinguished setting of Nikolaus Becker’s patriotic poem ‘Rheinlied’ (Der deutsche Rhein woo1, for solo voice, chorus and piano) was immediately successful after its publication in November. Late in the same month he turned to the poetry of Kerner for the first time in over a decade and completed 14 settings by late December. The bulk of these were assembled as Zwölf Gedichte von Justinus Kerner op.35, a cycle that is among the most impressive, if underrated, achievements of the Liederjahr.
Clara also made significant contributions to the song literature at this time. Impressed by her settings of poems by Burns (Am Strande) and Heine (Ich stand in dunkeln Träumen and Es fiel ein Reif), which she presented to him as Christmas gifts, Schumann suggested that they collaborate on a volume of lieder. The plan was realized the following year with Zwölf Gedichte aus F. Rückerts Liebesfrühling (published as Schumann’s op.37 and Clara’s op.12). The couple’s 1840 Christmas season was further brightened by Clara’s announcement of her pregnancy.
9. The aesthetics of the ‘Liederjahr’, 1840–41.
Schumann’s nearly exclusive concentration on vocal composition in 1840 can be traced to a confluence of pragmatic, personal and artistic factors. His turn to what was probably the most marketable of musical genres and the concomitant search for a more easily understandable style no doubt reflected his desire to attain the financial stability Wieck accused him of lacking. In addition, the lieder of 1840, like many of the earlier piano pieces, were closely interwoven with his feelings for Clara. ‘Much of you is embedded in my Eichendorff Liederkreis’, he wrote to her in May, and the same could justly be said of Myrthen, Frauenliebe und -leben, and the Kerner cycle op.35. Finally, in the lied Schumann would have found an ideal means of fulfilling his longstanding quest for a synthesis of music and poetry. While he claimed (in a letter of June 1839 to Hirschbach) never to have considered song composition as ‘great art’, his own achievements in the genre may be seen as responses to an imperative articulated repeatedly in his critical writings: the perfecting of imperfect tendencies in contemporary art.
It is possible to reconstruct from these writings the composer’s aesthetic of song, which commanded his critical attention from 1836. In Schumann’s view, the ideal lied must mediate between artlessness and art, simplicity and pretension. Construed as more than a singable melody supported by a decorative accompaniment, the lied unites voice and piano as equal partners in a shared discourse. Schumann’s further conviction that a great poem is a necessary condition for a great song may help to account for the relatively limited role he ascribed to Schubert, who was not always a discriminating judge of verse, in the development of the genre. Although Schumann located the song composer’s central mission in the preservation of the poem’s ‘delicate life’, this aim was to be fulfilled less through an act of translation than through a subtle recreation of the poem’s essence. The composer endeavours ‘to produce a resonant echo of the poem and its smallest features by means of a refined musical content’, he wrote, and hence becomes a poet.
The songs of the Liederjahr more than meet these standards. Schumann struck a balance between apparent naivety and refinement at all levels, perhaps most obviously as regards melody, but no less notably in the realm of form. While modified strophic or tripartite designs prevail in his settings, his concern for continuity often led him to leave the earlier strophes harmonically open so that closure is reserved for the final moments, as in Morgens steh’ ich auf (Liederkreis op.24 no.1). In Der Nussbaum (Myrthen op.25 no.3), the interplay between a graceful but melodically attenuated vocal line and a diaphanous texture in the accompaniment produces a finely wrought dialogue. The piano postlude of Stille Thränen from the Kerner songs op.35, like the corresponding passages in many other songs, completes a thought only partly articulated by the voice.
Throughout his career as a lieder composer, Schumann drew on the verses of the finest poets of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, including Goethe, Eichendorff, Heine, Rückert, Andersen, Burns and Byron. While about half his chosen texts can be classified as lyric in the strict sense of the term, the remainder divide almost evenly into narrative and dramatic types. The topical range is equally broad, encompassing love in all its nuances, patriotism, wandering, death, isolation and even madness. In some of the collections, folk- and drinking-songs appear side by side with lullabies, visions and depictions of festive scenes. While he was particularly fascinated with the contrast between innocence and sensuality in many of Heine’s lyrics, Schumann has been charged with insensitivity to the poet’s characteristic irony. But although he undoubtedly smoothed over Heine’s mordant wit on occasion, he demonstrated a keen sense for parody and for the destruction of illusion in his settings of Lieb’ Liebchen (Liederkreis op.24), Ich grolle nicht (Dichterliebe op.48), and Die beiden Grenadiere (op.49 no.1), to cite just a few examples.
Nowhere is Schumann’s tendency to cast himself in the role of poet more apparent than in his fondness for the song cycle, a genre he cultivated more assiduously than any other major composer of the 19th century. In a review of Carl Loewe’s Esther op.52 (a cycle in ‘Balladenform’), he observed that narrative continuity, large-scale tonal planning and motivic recurrence might contribute to a cycle’s coherence, though the presence of all three elements was not prescribed as a condition of cyclic integrity. Several of Schumann’s own works draw on poetic cycles that either provide a chronological narrative (Frauenliebe und -leben) or describe a series of affective states (the Heine Liederkreis). In other cases Schumann acts as co-creator of the text, either by making careful selections from a widely ranging poetic collection (such as Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo, the textual basis for Dichterliebe), or by arranging poems from disparate sources into a meaningful pattern (the Eichendorff Liederkreis op.39). Tonal and motivic relationships are also coordinated with textual factors. The motion from D to F over the course of the Reinick Sechs Gedichte, for instance, reinforces a thematic shift in the poems from reality to dream world. Motivic recall and transformation are deftly aligned with poetic content in the Eichendorff Liederkreis (second version), where a compact but expressive figure first introduced in the accompaniment of the opening song (In der Fremde) becomes an emblem for yearning, removal in time and space, and finally for an ecstatic union with nature. The restatement of entire melodies over broad expanses, often a function of the piano part, may call up reveries of bygone days (Frauenliebe und -leben) or add a consoling touch to texts that would have otherwise ended on a bitter note (Dichterliebe, Kerner cycle). In all of these cases, the technique of melodic recurrence underlines the power of memory itself, the theme through which Schumann confirms his role as musical poet.
10. The ‘system’ of genres.
Viewing Schumann’s output as a whole, one cannot help noticing his tendency to focus on individual genres at various points during his life: piano music (1833–9), song (1840), symphonic music (1841), chamber music (1842), oratorio (1843), contrapuntal forms (1845), dramatic music (1847–8) and church music (1852). Although there is no evidence that he made a conscious decision to pursue this course at a specific moment in his career, his orderly exploration of genres probably answered to both artistic and psychological imperatives. On the one hand, it would ensure his parity with such esteemed predecessors as Bach, Beethoven and Schubert (writing in 1842, he maintained that ‘a master of the German school must know his way around all the forms and genres’); on the other, it was rooted in the same impulse to keep chaos at bay that made him an enthusiastic diarist, an avid (and systematic) reader and a sometimes obsessive keeper of lists.
To reduce Schumann’s creativity to a single sweep through the musical genres, however, is to misrepresent a considerably more complex situation. By 1833 he had already attempted a similar undertaking, though its products were often incomplete (piano concerto in F, symphony in G minor), or remained at the level of preliminary planning (the Hamlet opera). Then at the end of his career, he re-enacted his earlier survey of the genres in the short space of two years (1850–52), his will to produce spurred on by his position as municipal music director in Düsseldorf.
The notion of a ‘system’ of genres for Schumann’s output needs to be refined on several other counts. First, Schumann’s contributions to individual genres often embodied diverse tendencies; secondly, he often pursued his interests in different genres either simultaneously or in close alternation; and lastly, his accomplishments in one area frequently affected his approach to others. While keyboard music dominated between 1833 and 1839, it is important to recognize the variety of this repertory, where essays in the larger forms give way to a concentration on the miniature. Moreover, both sub-genres, the large and the small, are conflated in such works as the C major Fantasie and the Novelletten. In 1849, Schumann’s most productive year, he focussed alternately on Hausmusik (character-pieces for instrumental ensemble, choral partsongs, lieder) – from which he could expect handsome financial returns – and on more imposing forms involving vocal and instrumental soloists, chorus and orchestra. Just as significant as the individuality of the genres is their interdependence in Schumann’s hands. Like his poetic cycles for keyboard, his song cycles may be viewed as constellations of lyric fragments. The symphonic works of 1841 make both overt and covert allusions to the earlier songs and piano pieces. In the oratorio Das Paradies und die Peri, he drew on his previous experience as a composer of vocal and orchestral music.
It would be difficult to say which of these is the central genre for an understanding of Schumann’s compositional development. Indeed, it was often in the transformation of one genre into another that he best displayed his mastery. Kennst du das Land, the first of the Wilhelm Meister songs (op.98a), is not only a lied but also a keyboard miniature and a compressed operatic scena.
11. The symphonic year, 1841.
In early January 1841 Schumann set the nine lyric poems by Rückert that were to appear in the Liebesfrühling song cycle, conceived jointly with Clara (her contributions, nos.2, 4 and 11 of the published set, op.37, were ready by June). The identity of the C minor symphony to which Schumann alluded in entries of 21–2 January in the Haushaltbuch is still a matter of controversy. This notwithstanding, he had indisputably embarked on the activity that would claim his attention for the better part of the ensuing year. Motivated in part by Clara’s suggestions (beginning in January 1839) that he write for orchestra, and responding to a personal desire, Schumann quickly made headway in the genre that Czerny described as ‘the grandest species of musical creation’. Within four days and nearly as many sleepless nights (23–6 January), he completed the continuity draft (melody and bass sketches, notated on two staves) of the First (‘Spring’) Symphony op.38, the orchestration of which was finished by late February. What Schumann described as ‘symphonic fire’ was not cooled when he received an induction notice from the Leipzig communal guard (his petition for exemption from service was approved early in 1842), though after scoring the symphony he suffered from mild depression. His mood had brightened by the time of the work’s warmly applauded première on 31 March at the Gewandhaus, an event he counted among the most important of his artistic life. Revisions of the first movement, scherzo and finale followed in June and August. With the First Symphony, he thus established a pattern of rapid sketching, textural elaboration and revision (often in reaction to a trial performance) that he was to employ in many of his subsequent works in the larger forms.
His next symphonic composition was sketched and scored in April and May. Conceived as a ‘Suite’ or ‘Symphonette’, and subjected to extensive revisions in August and again in the autumn of 1845, it was published in 1846 as Overture, Scherzo and Finale op.52. While still occupied with the first version of the finale in May 1841, he drafted a Phantasie in A minor for piano and orchestra, which, with the addition of a slow movement and rondo finale a little over four years later, became the Piano Concerto op.54.
‘Sometimes I hear D minor strains resounding wildly from the distance’, Clara wrote at the end of May in a reference to her husband’s latest symphonic effort, a Symphony in D minor. While the sketching process had come to an end by mid-June, the work did not achieve provisional completion until October. In the meantime, the Schumanns were caught up in a number of activities great and small. Early in July they enjoyed a holiday in the environs of Dresden. At about the same time, Schumann looked to the plays of Calderón as a possible source for an opera libretto. By early August, Thomas Moore’s Paradise and the Peri had come under close scrutiny for operatic treatment; working with Adolf Böttger, Schumann made substantial progress in transforming the verse fairy tale into a quasi-dramatic text by December. On 1 September, soon before her 22nd birthday, Clara gave birth to their first child, a daughter, named Marie. Late in the same month, Schumann sketched yet another symphony, this one in C minor. While the continuity draft was not fully elaborated for orchestra, the music for the scherzo was later reworked as no.13 of Bunte Blätter op.99 (published in 1852). Having polished the D minor Symphony by early October, he turned briefly to vocal composition with a setting of Heine’s Tragödie for voices and orchestra (a version for soprano, tenor and piano appeared in 1847 as op.64 no.3). On 6 December both the Overture, Scherzo and Finale and the D minor Symphony were first performed, at a Gewandhaus concert under Ferdinand David. The public’s less than wholehearted embracing of these works (in contrast to its enthusiastic reaction to Clara’s and Liszt’s playing of the latter’s Hexameron duo) may have contributed to Schumann’s decision to withhold both from immediate release. Unable at first to interest a publisher in the symphony, he revised it extensively in December 1851, issuing it two years later as his Fourth Symphony op.120.
Schumann’s main compositional efforts of 1841 constitute a comprehensive exploration of the symphonic medium. The grandeur of the First Symphony gives way in the Overture, Scherzo and Finale to a more compact design and an elfin orchestration redolent of Weber. (To judge from the sketches for the C minor Symphony, the finished product would probably have been deliberately Classical in style.) The style of the Phantasie for piano and orchestra stands between the improvisatory manner that distinguished Schumann’s pianism and a structural plan rooted in the principles of sonata form. Finally, Schumann’s attempt to bind the movements of the D minor Symphony into a freely unfolding whole justifies his later reference to the work as a ‘symphonic fantasy’.
Faced with the problem of developing lyrical material into the dynamic forms expected of every post-Beethovenian symphonist, Schumann naturally turned to Schubert as a model. But even in the First Symphony, the most derivative of his mature orchestral works, he managed to forge convincing alternatives to the strategies of his predecessors. Inspired by a ‘spring poem’ by Böttger, the First Symphony lies midway between absolute and programme music. Schumann’s replacing of the traditional point of recapitulation in the first movement with an apotheosis-like statement of the musical motto generated from Böttger’s poem is only the most obvious of the techniques through which he strikes a grand symphonic tone in a fundamentally original manner.
In his reviews of orchestral music, Schumann noted the tendency of his contemporaries to imbue their works with ‘historical interest’ by developing related ideas over the course of an entire work. A prime means of achieving coherence on the large scale, the technique of inter-movement thematic recall figures prominently in the works of the symphonic year, though Schumann was equally anxious to circumvent the monotony that might result from the over-use of a limited number of ideas. In the First Symphony, the concluding trombone chorale of the slow movement prefigures the main theme of the following scherzo in a gesture that provides both continuity and variety. The thematic web is even more densely woven in the Overture, Scherzo and Finale, where an idea introduced in the first movement’s coda undergoes a variety of shifts in character in the subsequent movements. Although the A minor Phantasie owes much to the rhetoric of sonata form, its various sections, each articulated by a change in tempo and each presenting related motifs in an ever-changing light, are close to the fast–slow–fast disposition of a typical concerto. The D minor Symphony, perhaps the most radical of Schumann’s works of 1841, does much the reverse in that the movements (all derived from material presented near the outset) together describe an overall pattern of exposition (slow introduction and Allegro di molto), development (Romanza and Scherzo), retransition (Largo) and recapitulation (Finale: Allegro vivace). A comment entered by Schumann into the marriage diary (March 1841) to the effect that his next symphony would be named after Clara, whom he planned to ‘portray’ with ‘flutes, oboes and harps’, has often been interpreted as a reference to the D minor Symphony, though it might just as well alude to the Overture, Scherzo and Finale. Indeed, Schumann sought to ‘portray’ Clara, at some level, in any number of his mature works.
12. The chamber music year, 1842–3.
The first crisis of the Schumanns’ married life arose in connection with a concert tour of north German cities undertaken early in 1842 and intended primarily as a showcase for Clara’s pianism. Annoyed at having been snubbed by court officials in Oldenburg after Clara’s concert there on 25 February, Schumann was in the depths of melancholy when he and Clara subsequently travelled to Hamburg. Finally, on 10 March (which Clara remembered as the ‘most miserable day’ of their marriage up to that point), he could bear his ‘undignified situation’ no longer and returned alone to Leipzig while Clara went on to give concerts in Copenhagen. Schumann’s depressive state was exacerbated by his intemperance, though he did busy himself with contrapuntal exercises in the weeks before his reunion with Clara on 25 April. During the same period he also pored over the string quartets of Haydn and Mozart, and after Clara’s return they studied these scores at the keyboard.
Soon the ‘quartet thoughts’ to which Schumann had first alluded in the Haushaltbücher on 14 February bore fruit as the String Quartets in A minor and F (op.41 nos.1 and 2), sketched and elaborated as a pair in June and early July. A third quartet (in A, op.41 no.3) was composed 8–22 July. Not long after returning from an excursion in Bohemia (6–22 August), during which he and Clara had a memorable audience with Metternich, Schumann drafted a composition that would achieve early and lasting success, the Piano Quintet in E♭ (op.44). Having completed this work by mid-October, he spent much of November working on a companion piece, the Piano Quartet in E♭ (op.47). ‘Nervous irritation’ did not keep him from finishing a set of Phantasiestücke for piano trio (op.88) over Christmas. This impressive burst of creativity spilled into the next year with the Andante and Variations in B♭, drafted between 26 January and 7 February, and conceived for an unusual combination of instruments: two pianos, two cellos and horn (woo10). Acting on Mendelssohn’s suggestion, Schumann recast the work for two pianos, in which form it was published late in 1843 as op.46. Thus in less than a year he had completed a comprehensive survey of the instrumental chamber idiom with a series of works varied in both scope and character. Composition in the ‘higher forms’, where the finely etched style of the string quartets contrasts with the broader strokes of the Piano Quintet and Piano Quartet, gave way to the character-piece and variations.
As a critic, Schumann made two principal demands of the prospective composer of string quartets. First, the ‘proper’ quartet style should avoid ‘symphonic furore’ and aim rather for a conversational tone in which ‘everyone has something to say’. Secondly, the composer must possess an intimate knowledge of the genre’s history, but should strive to produce more than mere imitations of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. Both aspects of this aesthetic are aptly reflected in Schumann’s own quartets, which he proudly described in a letter to Härtel of December 1847 as the best works of his earlier period. His fugal studies of March and April aided the creation of contrapuntally integrated string quartets where every member of the ensemble is accorded a crucial strand in the total discourse. Similarly, his immersion in the quartets of the Viennese Classical tradition left a definite imprint on his treatment of sonata form. Haydn’s mono-motivic forms, no less than Mozart’s tendency to conflate developmental and recapitulatory processes, became objects of emulation in the opening and closing movements in nearly all Schumann’s quartets. Beethoven’s op.131 in turn provided a model for the tonal and thematic strategies employed to achieve large-scale unity in Schumann’s op.41 no.1.
It is important to remember that Schumann, like Mendelssohn, reached artistic maturity during a period in which chamber music came to occupy an intermediary position between private entertainment and public display. This dialectic comes to the fore in the tension between symphonic and more traditional chamber-like elements in Schumann’s Piano Quintet and Piano Quartet. The peroration of the earlier work, for instance, occurs at the point in the finale where that movement’s main theme is combined with an emphatic restatement of the first movement’s motto, a gesture of epic recall that Schumann later used in his Second Symphony. (This tactic apparently failed to impress Liszt, who dismissed the Piano Quintet as too ‘Leipzigerisch’.) Apart from its surface similarities with the Piano Quintet, the Piano Quartet projects an exuberant character through musical materials of a decidedly neo-classical stamp.
Both the Phantasiestücke and the Andante and Variations take up features already exploited in Schumann’s keyboard works of the previous decade. The mosaic-like designs of the Phantasiestücke have parallels in the Novelletten, while the alternation of Florestanian ebullience and Eusebian introspection in the Andante and Variations resonates with the affective pattern of the Davidsbündlertänze. In addition, the mediation of esoteric and popular styles in these works prefigures an important trait of the Hausmusik of the late 1840s.
13. The oratorio year, 1843.
Between late January and early March 1843, musical life in Leipzig was considerably enlivened by the presence of Berlioz. Schumann heard Berlioz’s concerts of 4 and 23 February with great interest, and although his enthusiasm for the French composer’s works had cooled in the eight years since the publication of his review of the Symphonie fantastique, the Offertorium from the Requiem, Berlioz relates in his Mémoires, prompted Schumann to exclaim: ‘That beats everything!’
By this time Mendelssohn’s plan to found a music conservatory in Leipzig, an idea he first broached with Schumann in November 1842, was well on the way to realization. Schumann willingly assumed his duties as instructor of composition, score reading and piano in March 1843, but by midsummer complained that very few of the school’s nearly 50 students showed genuine compositional talent.
Berlioz’s visit and the founding of the conservatory overlapped with the beginning of sustained work on the music for Das Paradies und die Peri. Descended from the union of a fallen angel and a mortal, and thereby excluded from paradise, the Peri in Moore’s version of the tale (one of four long poems in Lalla Rookh, published in 1817) attempts to impress the guardians of the heavenly gates with the blood of a young warrior and the sighs of an expiring maiden, but only gains admission to paradise with her third offering, the tears of a repentant sinner. In a list dating from December 1840, Schumann designated the story as ‘material for an opera’, but when in the latter part of the next year, and working in consultation with Böttger, he began to transform his friend Flechsig’s translation of Moore’s verses into a libretto, the result seemed more appropriate for treatment as an oratorio. Although the text was essentially complete by January 1842, Schumann left it untouched until February 1843. Two of the oratorio’s three parts were sketched and scored within two months, but then came a month-long hiatus probably occasioned by the birth of a second daughter, Elise, on 25 April, and the demands of the ‘annoying journal’. By 16 June Schumann had brought the work to provisional completion, although he returned to it for polishing and revision in July and September. Rehearsals with the singers began in October, and the première (4 December) under Schumann’s direction was such a success (thanks in large part to Livia Frege’s singing of the Peri) that a second performance was arranged for 11 December. The public acclaim Schumann garnered as a consequence of these events may have caused Wieck to send his son-in-law a formal letter of reconciliation dated 16 December.
Writing to Carl Kossmaly on 5 May 1843, Schumann claimed to be engaged in the creation of ‘a new genre for the concert hall’. The Peri lives up to this epithet on several counts. In the first place, the work effects a fusion of the sacred and secular realms, with the semi-human, semi-divine Peri herself providing an emblem for the 19th-century artist. Second, the deft transitions between the oratorio’s individual numbers, no less than the balanced disposition of narrative, lyric and dramatic elements, ensures a previously unmatched degree of continuity on the large scale. A delicate web of melodic recurrences contributes to the same end. Finally, Schumann avoided a merely formulaic setting of the narrative portions of the text by means of what he called ‘Rezitativischer Gesang’, a flexibly declaimed vocal line supported by a motivically rich orchestral texture. Critics of Schumann’s orchestration might be persuaded to modify their stance after considering the airily scored music for the Nile Genies (no.11) and Houris (no.18), the mellow horn choir and shimmering strings of the Part 2 finale (no.17), and the colouristic touches from the upper winds in the solo baritone’s ‘Jetzt sank des Abends’ (no.21). The Peri occupies a pivotal position in Schumann’s output. Soon after completing it, he wrote in the marriage diary: ‘An opera will be my next work, and I’m burning to get started’. The upheavals of the following years delayed the realization of this plan, but when, in the later 1840s, Schumann did fulfil his longstanding desire to compose dramatic music, he returned to a poetic theme first represented musically in the Peri, the notion of redemption.
14. Russia and after, 1844.
In December 1843 Schumann reluctantly agreed to embark on a concert tour of Russia with Clara. After departing on 25 January, they travelled (often under arduous conditions) to Königsberg (now Kaliningrad), Riga, Mitau (Jelgava) and Dorpat (Tartu), in February, St Petersburg (March), Moscow (April) and again to St Petersburg before returning to Leipzig on 24 May. In some respects the tour was a success. Clara’s four concerts in St Petersburg and three in Moscow brought in no less than 6000 thalers, half of which counted as profit. During their first visit to St Petersburg, the Schumanns met the leading figures on the Russian musical scene, including Glinka and Anton Rubinstein, and developed a warm rapport with the art-loving aristocrat Mateusz Wielhorski, a talented cellist, and his brother Michal, an amateur composer. Writing in the marriage diary, Schumann described St Petersburg as ‘the most wondrous of the world’s cities’. He and Clara were similarly awestruck by the ‘peculiar orientalism’ of Moscow, where they made almost daily visits to the Kremlin.
Elected an honorary member of the St Petersburg Philharmonic Society, and granted an audience with the imperial family (if only after a tiresome and humiliating series of political machinations), Clara succeeded in consolidating her reputation as an international artist. In contrast, for Schumann the artistic results of the Russian tour were decidedly meagre. Although his Piano Quintet was enthusiastically received at one of the Wielhorskis’ soirées and at Clara’s third St Petersburg concert, he was unable to arrange a Moscow performance of his First Symphony. Seldom able to compose while touring, Schumann considered Goethe’s Faust for musical treatment while in Dorpat and began to sketch a scene from its second part in St Petersburg, but otherwise made little headway with the project that would occupy him for nearly a decade. In April, however, he wrote five extended poems, all but the last directly inspired by Ivan III’s great bell-tower at the Kremlin. While some writers have interpreted these verses as symptomatic of deterioration in the composer’s mental state, the poems can also be read as allegories for the problem of artistic creativity; their emphasis on the theme of redemption through striving also echoes Schumann’s interest in Goethe’s Faust.
However, by the end of the Russian tour Schumann was in a physically and psychologically precarious condition. In Dorpat a severe ‘nervous fever’ had confined him to his bed for almost a week. An eyewitness account of his behaviour in St Petersburg presents him as depressed, preoccupied and incommunicative. Attacks of dizziness that impaired his sight caused him to seek medical advice in Moscow.
Schumann’s illness persisted and intensified after he and Clara returned to Leipzig in late May. At the same time, he made an effort to devote himself wholly to composing. Indeed, his discontinuation of the marriage diary and his decision, in early June, to sell the Neue Zeitschrift should be viewed in this light. (The journal officially passed into Brendel’s hands, for 500 thalers, on 20 November.) Late in June he began to sketch a setting of the final scene of Part 2 of Goethe’s Faust and almost concurrently set to work on an opera based on Byron’s The Corsair (for which only the opening chorus, an orchestral interlude and sketches for an aria survive). By August, however, Schumann was complaining of ‘wretched melancholy’ and a generally ‘dreadful state of health’. Nor did his condition improve during a brief holiday in the Harz mountains (10–18 September). A consultation on 1 October with Dr Moritz Müller, a practitioner of homeopathic medicine, did little good.
On 3 October the Schumanns travelled to Dresden, where Clara’s father had recently made his home, and by the middle of the month they decided to remain there for the winter. Their ultimate decision to move to the Saxon capital was motivated by several factors. Passed over in favour of Niels Gade in his pursuit of the directorship of the Gewandhaus concerts, Schumann held out few hopes of advancing his career in Leipzig. Dresden’s flourishing theatrical life, however, might afford opportunities for his operatic ambitions. Further, the many spas in the area would allow him to continue the hydrotherapeutic treatment he had tried, with some success, in late August. Having made their way back to Leipzig after a visit to their friends the Serres in Maxen, Schumann and Clara held a farewell soirée at which the Piano Quartet had its first performance, on 8 December.
Soon after the family moved to Dresden, on 13 December 1844, Schumann’s mental and physical state reached its nadir. According to the report of Dr Carl Helbig, Schumann’s physician throughout his five years in Dresden, he was suffering from acute depression, insomnia, exhaustion, auditory disturbances, bodily tremors and a wide range of phobias. Attributing the exacerbation of these symptoms to his patient’s recent compositional efforts, Helbig suggested that Schumann should give up music altogether. Although this advice was not taken, it is possible that Schumann’s attempt to finish the Faust setting on which he had worked fitfully throughout the summer and autumn had affected his health. While his entry for 23 December in the Haushaltbücher reads ‘Faust completed, but with effort’, his work on it was far from over. The second part of the final chorus (‘Das Ewig-Weibliche zieht uns hinan’) was not fully elaborated until April 1847, and an entirely new version followed in the space of three months. Then in May and June 1848 he added a rousing coda to the central chorus, ‘Gerettet ist das edle Glied’. Nonetheless, by December 1844 Schumann had abandoned his earlier plans for a Faust opera. ‘What would you think about treating the entire material as an oratorio?’, he inquired in a letter to Eduard Krüger.
15. A new manner of composing: Dresden, 1845–6.
Schumann began to recover from his depression in late January 1845. Concurrently he studied counterpoint, along with Clara, who soon produced a series of preludes and fugues on themes by her husband and J.S. Bach. Schumann’s own ‘Fugenpassion’, as he called it in the Haushaltbücher, resulted in the completion of the Vier Fugen op.72 in March, soon after the birth of their third daughter, Julie. On 7 April, the same day on which he and Clara delved into Cherubini’s Cours de contrepoint et de fugue (1835), Schumann drafted the first of the Sechs Fugen über den Namen: Bach op.60 for organ. Intrigued by the pedal piano he had initially rented in order to master the fundamentals of organ technique, he composed two sets of pieces for this unusual instrument (alternatively for piano, three to four hands), between April and June: four Skizzen op.58 and six Studien (in canonic form) op.56.
After completing the Studien, Schumann brought his contrapuntal projects to a temporary halt. Having had no success in placing the A minor Phantasie for piano and orchestra with a publisher, he attempted to enhance its marketability by adding a slow movement and finale (composed in reverse order from 14 June to 16 July). The resulting concerto, destined to become one of Schumann’s most popular works, received a private première on 4 December, with Clara as soloist and Ferdinand Hiller conducting the Dresden orchestra, but it was never performed in public during the composer’s lifetime. While finishing the concerto in July, Schumann received an invitation to the Beethoven festival on 10–12 August in Bonn. Although he and Clara duly set out, on 31 July, his complaints of persistent dizziness and anxiety led the couple to abandon their original plans and visit Schumann’s relatives in Zwickau instead. On returning home in mid-August, Schumann met regularly with Hiller, Wieck and Julius Becker regarding a projected series of orchestral concerts in Dresden, and by September he felt well enough to resume his work on the B–A–C–H fugues, all six of which were drafted by November. In the meantime he subjected the last movement of the Overture, Scherzo and Finale to extensive revision. After hearing a revised version of Wagner’s Tannhäuser on 22 November, Schumann had a long conversation with the opera’s controversial composer, whom he subsequently described as possessing ‘an enormous gift of the gab … one can’t listen to [Wagner] for long’.
A performance of Schubert’s Ninth Symphony on 9 December may have fuelled the ‘symphonic thoughts’ Schumann noted in the Haushaltbücher at about this time. Soon after Christmas he had nearly finished sketching the work that was to be published as his Second Symphony in C major (op.61). Beginning in late January 1846, Schumann composed a series of choral partsongs, several on texts by Burns, that were subsequently issued in two volumes (opp.55 and 59). Soon after the birth of a son, Emil, on 8 February, he turned to the elaboration of the symphonic sketches, a process that occupied him intermittently for almost a year. His tortuously slow progress on the symphony – indeed, the near cessation of his creative work in the spring and early summer – can be attributed to recurrent bouts of illness, the chief symptoms of which included dizziness, auditory disturbances and general malaise. 25 visits to the mineral baths on the island of Norderney did little to restore his health. The Schumanns’ five-week holiday at this popular resort (15 July–21 August) was further clouded when Clara suffered a miscarriage. Only between September and October did Schumann manage to make significant headway on the orchestration of the C major Symphony. The tepid response to its first performance, on 5 November at a Gewandhaus concert under Mendelssohn’s direction, may have caused him to revise the first and last movements.
In a diary entry, probably dating from the late 1840s, Schumann wrote: ‘I used to compose almost all of my shorter pieces in the heat of inspiration … Only from the year 1845 onwards, when I started to work out everything in my head, did a completely new manner of composing begin to develop’. The stylistic corollaries to this alteration in compositional process include a refinement in Schumann’s approach to the art of transition and, even more importantly, a profound rethinking of what constitutes a musical idea. To put it succinctly, the linear development of a single motif often recedes in favour of the simultaneous development of motivic combinations. Schumann laid the groundwork for the ‘new manner’ in the op.72 fugues and the organ fugues on B–A–C–H, where he frequently coupled his subjects with flexibly varied counter-figures rather than with strictly maintained countersubjects. The fluidity of the motivic development in these pieces justifies Schumann’s view of the fugue as a genre that could aspire to the ‘poetry’ of the character-piece. Although the Piano Concerto does not overtly reflect his preoccupation with counterpoint, it demonstrates a concern with the issues of continuity that were just as crucial for the realization of the ‘new manner’. The six-bar transition between the last two movements, to cite an obvious example, at once recalls the first movement’s main theme and leads inexorably into the finale, thus uniting reminiscence and anticipation. Like the D minor Symphony of 1841, the Second Symphony coheres by virtue of a web of recurrent thematic strands. In the later work, however, the technique of motivic recall is enhanced by Schumann’s employment of contrapuntal combinations. Specifically, the chorale theme introduced midway through the finale is integrated with the opening theme of the first movement, also a chorale, in the symphony’s concluding passages. The displacement of the finale’s initial march-like theme by a pair of interwoven chorales in essence lifts the Second Symphony from a secular to a quasi-religious plane.
16. The musical dramatist: Dresden, 1847–8.
Between 24 November 1846 and 4 February 1847 the Schumanns toured in Vienna, Brno and Prague. After a week in Dresden they went to Berlin, where the Singakademie planned to perform Das Paradies und die Peri on 17 February, and remained there until late March. The Viennese leg of the tour was hardly a success. The performance of Schumann’s First Symphony and Piano Concerto at the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde on 1 January 1847 was poorly attended and coolly received; Clara’s concert on 10 January was saved from the same fate only through the participation of Jenny Lind (whose artistry and personal warmth also endeared her to the Schumanns). The performance of the Peri in Berlin, with Schumann conducting, met with a positive response in spite of difficulties with the Singakademie directors (Eduard Grell and K.F. Rungenhagen), frustrating episodes with ill-prepared vocal soloists and technical mishaps at the performance itself. Apart from these annoyances, the tour provided Schumann with an opportunity to immerse himself in opera. A regular if not always approving member of the audience at performances of works by Donizetti, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Halévy and Flotow, he registered his ‘desire to write operas’ in his travel diary (15 March).
While Schumann suffered from insomnia and ‘nervous weakness’ during the last weeks in Berlin, his condition improved soon after his return to Dresden on 25 March. Indeed, he remained in generally good health throughout much of the ensuing year despite its tragic events. The death of Mendelssohn’s sister Fanny Hensel on 14 May 1847 came as a shock; even more unsettling was the Schumanns’ loss of their 16-month-old son Emil on 22 June. Their stay in Zwickau between 2 and 13 July for a festival devoted to Schumann’s music proved a welcome distraction. Ferdinand Hiller’s decision, in late October, to accept the post of municipal music director in Düsseldorf left open his position as conductor of the Dresden Liedertafel. Schumann’s direction of this group provided the impetus for a series of compositions for male chorus, including the Ritornelle in canonischen Weisen (op.65), Drei Gesänge (op.62) and the pieces posthumously published as Drei Freiheitsgesänge (woo13–15, with optional wind and brass accompaniment). As Schumann soon tired of what he called ‘the eternal 6/4 chords of the male choral style’ – his involvement with the Liedertafel ceased in October 1848 – he looked to a more satisfying outlet for his talents in the founding of a Verein für Chorgesang. First mentioned in the Haushaltbücher on 29 November 1847, the Chorverein began rehearsing on 5 January 1848, and occupied an important place in Schumann’s musical life for the remainder of his stay in Dresden. In the meantime, however, he suffered another tragic loss when Mendelssohn died on 4 November 1847. Shortly after returning from the funeral ceremony in Leipzig, he made preliminary notes for a memoir. (His musical homage to his friend appeared as ‘Erinnerung’, no.28 of the Album für die Jugend op.68.) In November he also began to give composition lessons to the young Karl Ritter.
Schumann composed little in 1846, but 1847 was rich in creative activity. The orchestration of the closing scene of the second part of Faust was completed in April. At about the same time he prepared a four-hand piano arrangement of the Finale from op.52 and made further corrections to the Second Symphony. Clara assumed a central role in preparing a vocal score of the Faust setting, for which Schumann composed an alternative final chorus between May and July. In May and June he completed Beim Abschied zu singen for chorus and wind (op.84) and two of the songs later issued in the Romanzen und Balladen op.64. The ‘trio thoughts’ to which he referred in the Haushaltbücher took shape as the D minor Piano Trio (op.63), sketched between 9 and 16 June, and a companion piece in F (op.80), partially sketched in August. These works, perhaps inspired by Clara’s G minor Piano Trio of the year before, were finished between September and November. Though conceived as a pair, they differ markedly in tone, the sunny quality of the second (with its allusion to Dein Bildnis wunderselig op.39 no.2) providing a foil to the more sombre conceits of the first. Nonetheless, Schumann’s ‘new manner’ is much in evidence in both works, especially in the D minor trio, whose first movement evolves less from a theme than from a contrapuntal configuration introduced at the outset.
By far the grandest of Schumann’s projects for the year involved the realization of a longstanding wish to write an opera. During the past 17 years he had considered well over 40 subjects for operatic treatment (among them Shakespeare’s Hamlet and The Tempest, Hoffmann’s Doge und Dogaressa, the Till Eulenspiegel legend and K.L. Immermann’s Tristan und Isolde). Finally, on 1 April 1847, he settled on Friedrich Hebbel’s Genoveva (1841). Based on an old French legend, Hebbel’s drama focusses on the psychological decline of the steward Golo, who ensnares the title character in a plot to compromise her honour when she spurns his advances. Within days Schumann sketched an overture, drafted a scenario and engaged Robert Reinick as librettist. Reinick may have prompted Schumann to read Ludwig Tieck’s dramatization of the French tale as Leben und Tod der heiligen Genoveva (1799). Before long, however, the collaboration between composer and librettist foundered, in part because of Schumann’s desire to take over verbatim a significant proportion of Hebbel’s verses. Schumann therefore assumed responsibility for the libretto, on which he worked sporadically from May to December. (He solicited Hebbel’s advice in a letter of 14 May and met the poet in Dresden on 27 July; Hebbel later described Schumann as ‘not merely stubborn, but downright unpleasant in his taciturnity’.) With the text nearly complete, Schumann elaborated the sketches for the overture between 17 and 26 December. He then sketched and orchestrated the four acts in turn, the entire process occupying him until August 1848.
Meanwhile the Schumann household reacted with joy and awe to a series of personal and public events. A second son, Ludwig, was born on 20 January. While at work on Act 2 of Genoveva in February and March, Schumann noted his ‘political excitement’ over the outbreak of revolution in Paris, Milan and Vienna. In May and June he amplified the central chorus (‘Gerettet ist das edle Glied’) of his setting of the final scene from Faust and directed a private performance of the entire scene on 25 June. Finding a performance venue for Genoveva, however, proved an immensely frustrating task. The intrigues of C.R. Reissiger, Hofkapellmeister at the court theatre, militated against a performance in Dresden; negotiations to mount the opera in Frankfurt, Berlin and Weimar failed to produce immediate results and the première eventually took place in Leipzig in 1850.
On 29 July 1848 Schumann read Byron’s Manfred in the translation of K.A. Suckow. Within about a week, and immediately after finishing Genoveva, he began to prepare the text for his next dramatic work, an idiosyncratic treatment of Byron’s play in which spoken dialogue alternates with 15 brief movements cast as vocal solos and ensembles, instrumental interludes, choruses and melodramas. But before realizing this plan, he prepared a four-hand piano arrangement of the Second Symphony with Clara’s help and, on 1 September, Marie’s seventh birthday, presented his eldest daughter with an album (Stückchen für’s Clavier) comprising eight little piano pieces, seven of them original compositions and one an arrangement of ‘Vedrai, carino’ from Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Soon thereafter he amplified this album with arrangements of well-known melodies by Bach, Handel, Beethoven and Schubert, and a diminutive cipher piece called ‘Rebus’ (the melodic line yields the adage: ‘[L]ass das Fade, fass das Ächte’, i.e. ‘ignore what is merely fashionable, seize that which is genuine’). Most of Schumann’s original contributions to the album (though not ‘Rebus’) found a place within the 40 numbers of the Album für die Jugend op.68. Drafted in September and early October, and originally intended to include a sampling of pieces from the classical repertory and maxims for fledgling musicians, the Album became one of Schumann’s bestselling publications. By September he had also completed a Lehrbuch der Fugenkomposition consisting of excerpts from the treatises of Marpurg and Cherubini amplified with his own glosses. In mid-October he returned to Manfred, sketching and scoring its imposing overture by the end of the month and completing the music for the body of the drama by 23 November. This ‘dramatic poem’ would have to wait until June 1852 for its stage première, in Weimar under Liszt.
Schumann’s efforts to raise music to the level of literary culture reached a highpoint in the dramatic music of his Dresden years, a repertory that has not fared particularly well with either performers or critics. While the ‘just assessment’ that Schumann hoped for may still be elusive, it should be possible to approach that goal by taking into account his outlook on dramatic music in general and his aesthetic of opera in particular. Reviews written between 1837 and 1842, the brief notices in the Theaterbüchlein (1847–50) and remarks in Schumann’s correspondence indicate that five aspects of this aesthetic can be isolated: the necessity for operatic music and texts to aspire to an elevated tone; a notion of ‘melody’ in which eloquence counts for more than mere tunefulness; an insistence on technical correctness; the conviction that operatic subject matter should be drawn from world literature; and a concern for fidelity to the poetic source. Schumann’s prescriptions for a specifically ‘literary’ opera apply not only to Genoveva but also to Manfred and to his major achievement in this area, the Scenen aus Goethes Faust (woo3). The affinity among these three works is further confirmed by their varied but related musical embodiments of the theme of redemption.
Caught in the crossfire between Wagner’s detractors and supporters, Genoveva is neither a number opera nor an incipient music drama, but rather a scene opera, its distinctive stylistic profile deeply implicated in the spoken dramas upon which its text is based. Hence Schumann’s frequent recourse to the declamatory mode of Rezitativischer Gesang (for instance, in the sorceress Margaretha’s dream narrative at the beginning of Act 3) represents a response to non-rhyming verse forms that tend towards prose. The music for Genoveva likewise reflects the dramaturgy of the Trauerspiel or play of mourning, the genre from which Hebbel’s and Tieck’s plays derive their sustenance. Just as the Trauerspiel draws on allegorical imagery, so Schumann’s Genoveva features an emblematic code whose chief elements include a repository of motifs, gestures and timbral effects associated with the opera’s villains, Margaretha and Golo. If the music for Genoveva is characterized less by a family of recurrent motifs than by a sumptuous lyric tone, it is because she is the agent through whom the play of mourning is transformed into a hagiographic drama of redemption. Nowhere is this process of transcendence more palpable than in the heroine’s great lament and prayer that occurs in the first part of Act 4.
Schumann’s realization of the ideals of literary opera took a radical form in Manfred, the text of which retains, almost without alteration, 975 of the 1336 verses in Suckow’s translation. In keeping with his desire to place this text in the sharpest relief, Schumann relied extensively on melodrama, the conjunction of unadorned (though sometimes rhythmed) speech and illustrative instrumental music. The music accompanying Manfred’s encounter with the spirit of his beloved Astarte is the most exquisitely orchestrated passage in a score notable for its sonic effects. The title character of Byron’s play is a brooding misanthrope who forsakes interpersonal exchange for distracted introspection and engagement with the present for absorption in a past he would sooner forget. These elements of the anti-hero’s dilemma are powerfully projected in Schumann’s music. The densely argued overture not only testifies to the continued impact of the composer’s ‘new manner’ but also serves as an emblem for Manfred’s solipsism, especially when the motivic fabric comes undone in the coda. Moreover, the tissue of reminiscences in the music for the drama reflects the dialectic between memory and forgetfulness in Byron’s play. Although Schumann has been criticized for granting Manfred redemption to the strains of a jubilant setting of the ‘Et lux perpetua’ from the Requiem Mass, he remained fundamentally true to the tragic tone of his poetic source. Like Goethe’s Faust, Schumann’s Manfred is redeemed not in this life but in the next.
Writing after its first public performance in 1849, Brendel characterized Schumann’s music for the closing scene of Faust as the harbinger of ‘the church music of the future’. In fact the scene that Schumann called ‘Faust’s Verklärung’ (no.7 of the Scenen aus Goethes Faust) is most remarkable for its fusion of sacred and secular styles on a grander scale than in any music since the finale of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. A corollary to the poetic theme of ascent to divine knowledge, the gradual intensification of texture, timbre and tone over the course of the scene’s seven movements is undeniably dramatic. The mediation of declamatory writing and melting lyricism in Dr Marianus’s ‘Hier ist die Aussicht frei’ similarly suggests an operatic style. In contrast, the spirit of church music prevails in the passages for the Blessed Boys and in the stile antico opening of the final Chorus mysticus. Theatrical and sacred styles come together in Schumann’s settings of ‘Das Ewig-Weibliche zieht uns hinan’, both versions of which culminate in an impressive display of contrapuntal skill.
17. Unbounded creativity: Dresden, 1848–50.
In a letter to Hiller (10 April 1849), Schumann juxtaposed the surge in his productivity with the upheavals wrought by the mid-century revolutions: ‘For some time now I’ve been very busy – it’s been my most fruitful year – it seemed as if the outer storms compelled people to turn inward’. Indeed, in 1849 alone Schumann completed nearly 40 works, many of them sizable. Nor was this creative outburst without its financial rewards; Schumann’s annual income from composing increased from 314 thalers in 1848 to 1275 thalers in 1849. He further supplemented his earnings, beginning in November 1848, by giving private instruction to Heinrich Richter. The productive phase reaching into the early part of 1850 also proved to be a period of physical and psychological well-being.
While Schumann had concentrated on dramatic music for much of 1848, his focus shifted towards the end of the year. In November and December, just after finishing the music for Manfred, he drafted the Adventlied op.71, for soprano, chorus and orchestra. While completing this work, he began a set of pieces for piano four hands, Bilder aus Osten op.66, presenting it some weeks later to Clara as a Christmas gift. The Waldscenen op.82 followed between 24 December and 6 January 1849, though he continued to polish this cycle of nine keyboard miniatures until September 1850. In February 1849 he turned to the composition of chamber music (Fantasiestücke for clarinet and piano, op.73; Adagio and Allegro for horn and piano, op.70) and by early March had fashioned a latterday response to the Baroque concerto grosso in the Concertstück op.86 for four horns and orchestra. Later that month he completed several works conceived for the participants in his Chorverein (which by then had grown to include between 60 and 70 members) – most of them later issued as Romanzen und Balladen for mixed chorus (opp.67, 75, 145, 146) – and the Spanisches Liederspiel op.74. Two other projects were undertaken at this time: a series of Romanzen for women’s voices (opp.69 and 91, completed in May) and the song cycle Spanische Liebeslieder (op.138, completed in November). In April he wrote the Fünf Stücke im Volkston op.102, for cello and piano, and set to work on the Lieder-Album für die Jugend op.79, a pendant to the similarly titled collection of keyboard pieces of the previous year.
The rhythm of the Schumanns’ lives was disrupted, on 3 May, when fighting broke out in Dresden after the king of Saxony dissolved the Landtag. Two days later a republican security brigade attempted to draft Schumann into its ranks but he, Clara, and their eldest daughter, Marie, fled through the back gate of their home to the nearby railway station. They arrived in Mügeln by midday and proceeded to Dohna and finally to the Serre estate in Maxen. Travelling part of the way alone and on foot, Clara (who was pregnant) returned to Dresden on 7 May to fetch the rest of the children (Elise, Julie and Ludwig), who had been left with a maid. The royalists recaptured the city on 9 May, and the next day Schumann and Clara ventured back into Dresden to collect some of their belongings. Offended by the anti-republicanism of the aristocrats camped at the Serres’ home, they decided to continue their temporary exile in Bad Kreischa, where they lived in ‘cosy stillness’ until 12 June. Schumann closely followed the news of the revolution, spent many afternoons on long hikes with his children and continued composing with remarkable fluency, apparently unruffled by the outer tumult. During his month in Kreischa he completed a number of new works (lieder for three women’s voices, op.114 nos.1 and 3; Fünf Gesänge for male chorus, op.137; the first version, with optimal organ, of Verzweifle nicht im Schmerzenstal op.93; two of the Mignon songs later issued in Lieder und Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister op.98a; and the Minnespiel op.101), added piano accompaniments to the Romanzen for women’s voices begun in March, and made further progress on the Lieder-Album für die Jugend.
If the lighthearted tone of many of these pieces seems strangely at odds with the shocking world events surrounding their composition, the four marches for piano, op.76, completed between 12 and 15 June in Dresden, are decidedly ‘republican in spirit’, to quote the composer himself. Writing to Brendel on 17 June, Schumann expressed his conviction that it had fallen to him ‘to tell, in music, of the motivating sorrows and joys of the times’. While a joyful quality prevails in the keyboard marches, Schumann’s settings of all but one of the interpolated lyrics in Goethe’s Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, a project that occupied him until 7 July, embody a range of darker moods. His fascination with Goethe persisted throughout the summer, resulting in the composition of the Requiem für Mignon op.98b (on a text from book 8 of Wilhelm Meister, sketched 2–3 July and orchestrated by September) and of nos.1–4 of the Faust scenes, sketched and scored between 13 July and 20 August. (Another son, Ferdinand, was born on 16 July.) The music for the final scene of Faust received a triple première on 29 August in Dresden (with Schumann conducting), Weimar and Leipzig, where the work was given in connection with celebrations marking the centenary of Goethe’s birth. By the end of the year, Schumann had completed a diverse array of vocal and instrumental works: Vier Duette op.78 for soprano and tenor (August–September); Introduction and Allegro appassionato op.92 for piano and orchestra and 12 vierhändige Clavierstücke op.85 (both composed in September); Vier doppelchörige Gesänge op.141 (October); Nachtlied op.108 for chorus and orchestra (November); and three of Byron’s Hebrew Melodies, op.95, Schön Hedwig, for speaker and piano, op.106, and Drei Romanzen for oboe and piano, op.94 (all in December). Sketched in December 1849 and January 1850, the Neujahrslied op.144 was orchestrated by the following October.
For some time Schumann had been hoping to obtain a salaried post. In July 1849 he expressed an interest in the recently vacated directorship of the Gewandhaus concerts. At about the same time he even allowed inquiries to be made on his behalf regarding Wagner’s recently vacated post at the court theatre. Then in mid-November he received a letter from Hiller, who had just accepted an offer from Cologne, inviting him to assume the position of municipal music director in Düsseldorf. Schumann responded on 19 November, requesting further details of the position and informing his friend that he would not, in any event, be able to assume the post before the Leipzig première of Genoveva. When he and Clara went to Leipzig in February 1850, they were annoyed to learn that Meyerbeer’s Le prophète would be performed instead, though Schumann took some consolation in the enthusiastic response accorded his Concertstück for four horns and Genoveva overture. In March he and Clara gave more concerts in Bremen and, with Jenny Lind, in Hamburg. Returning to Dresden after a brief visit to Clara’s relatives in Berlin, Schumann officially accepted the Düsseldorf directorship on 31 March. He resumed his compositional activities in late March and early April with the Drei Gesänge op.83 and Aufträge op.77 no.5. After preparing for publication the Musikalische Haus- und Lebensregeln (the ‘instructive appendix’ to the Album für die Jugend), he brought the Faust project to near completion with settings of the scenes of Faust’s blinding and death (nos.5 and 6 of the finished set), both drafted by 10 May. The Sechs Gesänge op.89 on texts by ‘Wilfried von der Neun’ (F.W.T. Schöpff) followed within a week.
On 18 May the Schumanns again went to Leipzig for the long-awaited rehearsals and production of Genoveva. The première on 25 June, under the direction of the composer, went smoothly until the tenor taking the part of Golo suffered a memory lapse in Act 3 and threw the cast into confusion. Although the performances of 28 and 30 June were more assured, Schumann did not achieve the triumph he had hoped for. However, he did not discount the possibility of future successes in the theatre; while in Leipzig he drafted a scenario for a libretto on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. In June he also participated in discussions regarding the newly formed Bach-Gesellschaft. Back in Dresden by 10 July, he turned once more to vocal composition, completing the Lieder und Gesänge op.96 and another half-dozen songs (later published in opp.77, 125 and 127) by the beginning of August. This second Liederjahr ended with Sechs Gedichte von N. Lenau und Requiem op.90, the last item of which was added on 5 August under the mistaken impression that the poet Lenau had died. On 25 August, when the cycle was first performed for a private gathering at the home of his friend Eduard Bendemann, Schumann learnt that the poet had in fact died on 22 August in an asylum near Vienna. At a farewell dinner given in his honour at the Brühlsche Terrasse, Schumann behaved badly, harshly criticizing a performance of his choral partsongs and rudely announcing that the wine, a gift from Bendemann, was not to his liking. He and his family departed for Düsseldorf on 1 September.
The music of this highly productive period of Schumann’s career embraces almost the entire spectrum of musical genres, ranging from unassuming Hausmusik to ‘literary’ opera, from simple training pieces to elaborate concertante works. To these canonical types Schumann added a number of arguably new genres, including the choral and declamation ballad, the dramatic song cycle and the ‘spiritual poem’ for chorus and orchestra. It would be a mistake to search for a single, dominant trend in all this variety. On the contrary, the interpenetration of esoteric and accessible styles in the music of Schumann’s ‘most fruitful year’ complements the dialectic between inner and outer realms articulated in his letter to Hiller of 10 April 1849. Moreover, the alternation and overlapping of phases devoted to music for ‘Kenner’ on the one hand and ‘Liebhaber’ on the other established a creative rhythm driven in part by commercial exigencies.
Much of the music of Schumann’s later Dresden years reflects the composer’s engagement with a Biedermeier culture characterized in equal measure by conviviality and educational impulses. The convivial side manifests itself most clearly in the folkish melodies, straightforward but elegant harmonies and syllabic settings typical of the choral partsongs. Similarly, the euphonious parallel 3rds and 6ths of the vocal chamber music and the ensembles in the Liederspiel (a nearly moribund genre that Schumann essentially brought to life) convert the personalized messages of lyric poetry into collective utterances. In his Hausmusik for keyboard, for solo voice and piano, or for instrumental ensemble, the educational aspect of the Biedermeier sensibility comes into prominence. Indeed, the Album für die Jugend, Lieder-Album für die Jugend and 12 vierhändige Clavierstücke constitute the beginnings of a pedagogical project unequalled in scope since the days of J.S. Bach. At the same time, Schumann’s instrumental Hausmusik reveals a poetic dimension that emerges in the literary inspiration for the Bilder aus Osten op.66 (Makamen des Hariri, Rückert’s translation of a medieval Arabic epic), the finely woven tapestry of motivic reminiscences in the Waldscenen and the fluidity of phrase structure that lends an ineffable speech-quality to the cycles for solo instrument and piano.
Schumann was eager to experiment with tone colour, form and genre in much of the music of his ‘most fruitful year’. Faced with the problem of striking a balance between an unusual concertante group and the full orchestra in the Concertstück op.86, the first large-scale concerted work to exploit the capabilities of the valve horn, Schumann deftly coordinated the characteristic gestures of the four solo horns with the functional demands of concerto form. The mellow tone of the horn also figures prominently in the Introduction and Allegro appassionato for piano and orchestra, its disposition in two thematically related but affectively contrasting sections a reflection of the mid-19th-century pianists’ habit of presenting only the final two movements of three-movement concertos. The chief novelty of the Wilhelm Meister lieder lies in Schumann’s blurring of the distinction between song cycle and opera, and in his inscription of this generic tension in the contrast between the lyricism of the Mignon songs and the largely declamatory quality of those for the Harper. Through an allusion to Dein Bildnis wunderselig (op.39 no.2) in the Harper’s ballad, Was hör’ ich draussen vor dem Thor, the composer proclaims his identification with the voluble bard in Goethe’s poem. Like Das Paradies und die Peri, the choral-orchestral works of Schumann’s later Dresden years embody the aesthetic of a ‘new genre for the concert hall’. But whereas the earlier oratorio turns on the notion of redemption, the Adventlied, Requiem für Mignon, Nachtlied and Neujahrslied present a mélange of religious, political, ethical and humanistic themes. If the accent falls on the quasi-sacred dimension in the Adventlied (a work that Schumann variously designated as a cantata, a motet and a ‘spiritual poem’) and on the synthesis of religious and political spheres in the Neujahrslied, then the Requiem für Mignon offers a moving statement on the transfigurative power of ‘Bildung’ or self-cultivation.
The latter work resonates in many ways with the Faust scenes, which in turn mark the culmination of Schumann’s accomplishments as a composer of dramatic music. His magnum opus consists of an overture (composed in August 1853 to round out the whole) and seven scenes that together capture the essence of Goethe’s drama. These are grouped into three ‘Abtheilungen’ or parts: the first (nos.1–3) encapsulates the Gretchen tragedy; the second (nos.4–6) ends with Faust’s death; and the third (no.7) represents his redemption through the agency of the ‘Eternally-feminine’. While Schumann somewhat modified the Goethean original in nos.1, 3, 4 and 7, he remained basically true to the textual ideals of the ‘literary opera’. Similarly, although he claimed that the scenes ‘should not be performed in toto on a single evening’, the Faust music is not without unifying features. Tonal coherence is ensured by the use of D minor and its relative major at crucial junctures. A recurrent melodic idea bearing an uncanny resemblance to one of the motifs linked with Margaretha in Genoveva becomes a musical emblem for Mephistophelean trickery, gnawing guilt and mystical yearning. At the same time, the score is noteworthy for its employment of a range of vocal and instrumental styles, ranging from the conversational idiom of the garden scene (no.1) and the solemn declamation of Faust’s monologues (in nos.4, 5 and 6), to the orchestral tone portraiture of the sunrise episodes (no.4) and the migrating cantus firmus technique of the midnight scene (no.5). Similarly, the music evokes a variety of genres across the span of the work: lied (no.2), horror opera (nos.3 and 5), grand opera (nos.5 and 6), oratorio (nos.4 and 7) and church music (nos.3 and 7). Deeply sensitive to the all-inclusiveness of Goethe’s drama, Schumann created a manifold musical world in his Faust scenes.
18. Director in Düsseldorf, 1850–54.
On their arrival in Düsseldorf on 2 September 1850, and over the course of the next days, the Schumanns were greeted with a round of festive events, including serenades by the town musicians, a concert devoted to Schumann’s music, a celebratory dinner and a ball. Though he complained of rheumatism in his foot after the family moved into lodgings on the corner of Allee- and Grabenstrassen, Schumann was soon caught up in the discharge of his new duties. As municipal music director, he was in charge of the orchestra and chorus (Gesangverein) of the Allgemeiner Musikverein, which presented from eight to ten subscription concerts annually in seasons extending from October to May. In addition, he was to oversee the music on major feast days at St Maximilian and St Lambertus, Düsseldorf’s principal Catholic churches. According to Hiller, the first concert of the 1850–51 season (held on 24 October and featuring Clara as soloist in Mendelssohn’s G minor concerto) came off splendidly.
On the day of his début as conductor in Düsseldorf, Schumann completed the draft of his Cello Concerto op.129. The magnificent cathedral of Cologne, which he first beheld in late September, is supposed to have inspired the symphonic project he undertook between 2 November and 9 December. Popularly known as the ‘Rhenish’, and published as Symphony no.3, op.97, the work owes its final form (according to Wasielewski, at that time leader of the orchestra) to a second viewing of the cathedral in early November. News of the Archbishop of Cologne’s elevation to cardinal perhaps motivated the placing of an additional movement, ‘in the character of a procession for a solemn ceremony’, just before the finale. In late December 1850 Schumann began to gather several dozen keyboard pieces written between 1832 and 1849 into a collection he planned to call Spreu (‘Chaff’). Since this title was rejected by the publisher F.W. Arnold, the pieces appeared as Bunte Blätter op.99 (1852) and Albumblätter op.124 (1854). At the turn of the year Schumann took up orchestral composition with the overture (op.100) to Schiller’s Braut von Messina and again, a month later, with the darkly hued overture (op.128) to Julius Caesar. In the intervening weeks he set a number of texts by Mörike and other poets (issued in opp.107 and 125). By this time, then, his creativity had fallen into a pattern whereby larger compositions intended for public performance alternated with (more easily marketable) works in the smaller genres. The latter dominated in March, which saw the completion of the Märchenbilder for viola and piano, op.113, and the four Husarenlieder op.117, on Lenau texts. In early February Schumann drafted the scenario for an oratorio called Luther, and enlisted Richard Pohl as a collaborator. Although his plan to create a work accessible to ‘peasants and burghers’ alike was never realized, Schumann turned in late March to a project that did come to fruition, a setting of Moritz Horn’s Der Rose Pilgerfahrt for solo voices, chorus and piano. But before finishing this ‘musical fairy tale’, he sketched the first of his choral-orchestral ballades, a setting of Ludwig Uhland’s Der Königssohn. Work on both compositions proceeded more or less concurrently into the late spring and early summer. Between 28 May and 1 June he also set Uhland’s Der Sänger as a choral partsong (op.145 no.3) and 11 haunting lyrics by the child-poet Elisabeth Kulmann for solo voice or vocal duet and piano (the duets as Mädchenlieder op.103 and seven lieder op.104). Ballscenen op.109, nine miniatures for piano four hands (including a polonaise composed in 1849), followed in mid-June. On 6 July the Schumanns celebrated the move to their new lodgings on the Kastanienallee with a performance of Der Rose Pilgerfahrt with a hand-picked group of singers from the Gesangverein. Between 19 July and 5 August they were travelling along the Rhine and in Switzerland, enjoying a holiday that Schumann would remember as one of the most idyllic experiences of his married life. During the following weeks he composed the first two of the Drei Fantasiestücke op.111, and on 16 August went with Clara to Antwerp, where he served as one of the judges in a male-chorus competition.
Schumann’s second season as music director had a less than auspicious start. Forced to deal with poorly prepared singers and displeased by irregular attendance at orchestral and choral rehearsals, he had a ‘stormy confrontation’ on 6 September with the deputy mayor, W. Wortmann (a leading member of the administration of the Allgemeiner Musikverein), over the selection of repertory and soloists for the forthcoming winter concerts. This disturbance notwithstanding, he formed from his better singers a Singekränzchen which met regularly as a means of introducing the singers to the church music of the 16th to 18th centuries, and in November he instituted an unfortunately shortlived instrumental group (Quartettkränzchen). Correspondingly, his creative activity in the autumn of 1851 emphasized vocal and instrumental chamber music. Between mid-September and early November he completed the A minor Violin Sonata op.105, Drei Gedichte op.119 on texts by Gustav Pfarrius, the G minor Piano Trio op.110, and the second ‘Grand’ sonata, in D minor op.121 for violin and piano. In conformity with a now familiar pattern, Schumann then turned to projects involving larger forces: an orchestral accompaniment for Der Rose Pilgerfahrt (7–27 November), an orchestration of the Scherzo from Norbert Burgmüller’s unfinished Second Symphony (1 December; on the same day, Clara gave birth to their seventh child, Eugenie), a revision of the D minor symphony (op.120) of 1841 in which both the instrumentation and motivic argument of the earlier version were extensively altered (12–19 December), and finally, the overture op.136 to Goethe’s Hermann und Dorothea, a play he was considering for operatic treatment.
A number of large-scale works for vocal forces and orchestra followed in the first half of 1852. Based on a text by Uhland that was adapted by Pohl after a long and frustrating exchange with the composer, the second choral-orchestral ballade, Des Sängers Fluch op.139, was provisionally completed on 19 January. Then Schumann focussed his attention on church music, the genre he had described in a letter to August Strackerjahn (January 1851) as a composer’s ‘highest ideal’. Work on the Missa sacra op.147 (which, as Schumann later pointed out, was meant ‘for the church service as well as for concert use’) proceeded throughout much of February and into the next month, though the orchestration of the continuity draft was interrupted by a trip to Leipzig between 5 and 22 March. The enthusiastic response to three concerts featuring a broad selection from his choral, orchestral and chamber output was a sure sign of Schumann’s establishment as a major composer in the eyes of the public. In the week after his return to Düsseldorf he finished scoring the mass (a contemplative Offertorium was added to the settings of the Ordinary texts in March 1853, perhaps in response to an announcement for a sacred music competition) and, following a move to Herzogstrasse, he sketched the Requiem op.148 (27 April–8 May). The new work was orchestrated by 23 May, just after the drafting of an orchestral accompaniment for Verzweifle nicht im Schmerzenstal in the middle of the month. Two projects of a literary nature also occupied Schumann in late spring 1852. On 11 April he began to select excerpts from Shakespeare’s plays for inclusion in an anthology called Dichtergarten, the contents of which would eventually extend to relevant citations from many other staples of world literature. Then, on 27 May, he set about ordering his own writings on music for publication in a collected edition.
By the end of his second season as music director in Düsseldorf, Schumann’s health was poor. Although suffering from nervous attacks, rheumatism, coughing fits and general exhaustion, he hoped to relive the pleasantries of the previous summer with a trip along the Rhine. In the weeks before his departure, his creative interests turned to narrative genres, first with the declamation ballad Die Flüchtlinge op.122 no.2 (composed 13 June) and next with sketches for the third and greatest of the choral-orchestral ballades, Vom Pagen und der Königstochter op.140, on texts by Geibel. Unfortunately, his attempts to proceed with the sketching process while on holiday (26 June–2 July) were cut short by persistent nervous complaints. Having failed to experience relief through a regimen of daily bathing in the Rhine, he set off with Clara on 12 August for Scheveningen, a spa on the Dutch coast. There he enjoyed the company of Jenny Lind and Johannes Verhulst, and made significant progress on the orchestration of Vom Pagen und der Königstochter, which he managed to complete by early September. Nonetheless, he again found himself in ill-health upon returning to Düsseldorf in the middle of the month.
Although Schumann’s condition had somewhat improved by 19 September, the date of the family’s move into a roomy town house at 1032 Bilkerstrasse, he was compelled to ask his deputy Julius Tausch to conduct the first two concerts (28 October and 18 November) of the 1852–3 season. He resumed his duties with the Gesangverein only on 21 November, and early in the next month conducted the Düsseldorf orchestra (now with a new leader, Rupert Becker) and chorus in the warmly applauded première of Vom Pagen und der Königstochter. The Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart op.135, Schumann’s first creative effort in almost three months, were completed on 15 December. But while at work on this cycle of five brooding lieder on translations of texts attributed to Mary Queen of Scots, he was confronted with a troubling request from the administrators of the Musikverein. Offended by an ‘impertinent’ letter from Wortmann suggesting that his conducting responsibilities be curtailed, he ultimately agreed to place the choral rehearsals in Tausch’s hands.
On 30 December Schumann conducted his first complete concert with the orchestra since the end of the last season and at about the same time regained his compositional stride, though now his focus shifted from vocal to instrumental music. The project he later called ‘Bachiana’ commenced in late December with piano accompaniments to Bach’s sonatas and partitas for solo violin. With this task complete by early February 1853, he wrote the final orchestral-choral ballade, Das Glück von Edenhall op.143 (on a text by Uhland adapted by Richard Hasenclever) between 28 February and 12 March. The second and last instalment of Bachiana, harmonizations of the six suites for unaccompanied cello, was ready by 10 April. From 15 to 19 April he drafted the exuberant Fest-Ouverture (op.123) on Johann André’s Rheinweinlied, intended for performance at the forthcoming Niederrheinisches Musikfest. Towards the end of the month the Schumanns and their friends developed a passion for table-rapping. Amazed by his ability to summon up the rhythms of such classics as Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, Schumann even wrote an article (which no longer survives) on the subject. These unusual sessions were suspended as preparations began in earnest for the festival, which culminated in four concerts in Düsseldorf between 15 and 17 May. Along with Hiller and Tausch, Schumann served as co-director of the event and garnered public acclaim for performances of his D minor Symphony (1851 version), Piano Concerto (with Clara as soloist) and the recent Fest-Ouverture. Soon afterwards he culled the pertinent excerpts from Jean Paul’s works for Dichtergarten, an activity in which he took so much pleasure that upon completing it in early July he continued reading several of the novels of his favourite author well into October.
In late May he also returned to composition and within a month finished the Sieben Clavierstücke in Fughettenform op.126 and the Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend op.118, the latter collection specifically meant for his daughters Julie, Elise and Marie. For the first time in many years, Clara also began to compose, producing several piano pieces (among them a set of variations on one of the five Albumblätter from Schumann’s Bunte Blätter) and lieder before the end of June. After a brief hiatus in July, Schumann started composing again, and with a vengeance, in mid-August. A diverse series of works followed in rapid succession: the overture to the Faust scenes (13–17 August); the Introduction and Concert-Allegro op.134 for piano and orchestra (23–30 August); the partsong Orange und Myrthe hier (20 August, presented to Clara for her 34th birthday); Phantasie op.131 for violin and orchestra (completed by 7 September; it was inspired by Joachim, during whose visit to Düsseldorf between 28 August and 1 September Schumann noted ‘an unusual weakening’ of his power of speech); the declamation Ballade vom Haideknaben op.122 no.1 (15 September); Kinderball op.130, ‘six easy pieces’ for piano four hands (18–20 September); and a ‘piece for violin’ that soon evolved into the Violin Concerto in D minor (21 September–3 October).
While still occupied with the Violin Concerto on 30 September, Schumann was visited by a young pianist and composer from Hamburg who had been recommended to him by Joachim. Named Johannes Brahms, he was immediately recognized by the older man as a genius. During the ensuing month, this ‘young eagle’ regaled Schumann and Clara with his newly written piano pieces and songs, and with many other compositions later lost or destroyed. Inspired to assume the role of critic for the first time in nearly a decade, Schumann dubbed Brahms a musical saviour who would ‘give ideal expression to the times’ in ‘Neue Bahnen’ (‘New Paths’), the celebrated essay completed on 13 October and published in the Neue Zeitschrift on 28 October 1853. Schumann’s creativity continued apace throughout Brahms’s stay. First came the Märchenerzählungen op.132, a delightful cycle of miniatures for clarinet, viola and piano. On 15 October, the day after Joachim’s unexpected arrival in Düsseldorf, Schumann hatched the idea of composing, in collaboration with Brahms and Albert Dietrich, a violin sonata based on the letters of Joachim’s personal motto: ‘F–A–E’ (‘frei aber einsam’ – ‘free but lonely’). Schumann’s contribution comprised an intermezzo and finale, to which he added two further movements (to form a third violin sonata) between 29 and 31 October. About a fortnight earlier he had made an enigmatic reference to ‘Diotima’ in the Haushaltbücher, an allusion to the cycle of five luminous piano pieces drafted by 18 October and titled Gesänge der Frühe op.133. On 21 October he began to write piano accompaniments to Paganini’s Caprices for solo violin, no doubt with Joachim in mind. What proved to be Schumann’s final creative surge came to an end, immediately after his young friends’ departure, with five Romanzen for cello and piano completed in early November; these pieces were probably destroyed by Clara some 40 years later.
Already during the happy period of Brahms’s and Joachim’s visits, a storm was brewing with the executive committee of the Musikverein, its immediate cause being Schumann’s increasingly idiosyncratic and self-absorbed style of conducting. The members of the Gesangverein refused to sing under his direction after a disastrous performance of a mass by Moritz Hauptmann on 16 October, when he continued to conduct well after the music stopped. In rehearsing Joachim’s Hamlet overture for the subscription concert of 27 October, Schumann was curiously oblivious to his players’ need for cues. In private consultation with Clara on 7 November, two members of the executive committee, Julius Illing and Joseph Herz, suggested that Schumann conduct only his own pieces and leave his other duties to Tausch. Incensed by what he considered a breach of faith, Schumann failed to appear at the subscription concert of 10 November, thus leaving himself open to the charge of violating his contract. Indeed, within a week the administration of the Musikverein informed the mayor, Ludwig Hammers, that Tausch would assume the directorship of the Düsseldorf orchestra and chorus for the remainder of the season. Schumann officially broke off relations with the executive committee in a bluntly worded letter of 19 November. At the same time, he and Clara considered a future move to either Berlin or Vienna.
Less than a week after severing ties with the Musikverein, the couple embarked on a concert tour of the Netherlands that turned out to be one of the major triumphs of Schumann’s career. Complaints of ‘intolerable aural disturbances’, however, signalled a marked downturn in his physical condition. Back in Düsseldorf by 22 December, Schumann celebrated Christmas quietly with friends and in the early part of the new year augmented his Dichtergarten with passages from Schiller and E.T.A. Hoffmann. On 19 January 1854 he set off with Clara for Hanover, where Joachim was leader of the court orchestra and where, over the course of the next 12 days, he engaged in a round of music-making which included a private reading of his Violin Concerto.
While in Hanover, Schumann had looked to Goethe and the poetry of Des Knaben Wunderhorn in connection with Dichtergarten, and after his return to Düsseldorf on 30 January the literary monuments of classical antiquity commanded his attention for the same purpose. On 3 February he drafted a brief but spirited introductory essay for publication with the collected edition of his critical writings. But his routine was brutally interrupted when, on the evening of 10 February, he was plagued by ‘painful aural disturbances’ that at first involved continually sounding pitches but soon took the shape of entire compositions played in ‘splendid harmonizations’ by a ‘distant wind-band’. Soon after his friend and personal physician, Hasenclever, was summoned on 15 February, his condition improved slightly, but on 17 February he arose from his bed to transcribe a theme ‘dictated by the angels’. Although these otherworldly voices became a hideous chorus of ‘tigers and hyenas’ in the following days, Schumann was able, in his more lucid moments, to write a set of five variations (woo24) on the ‘angelic’ theme (in conversation with Rupert Becker, he ascribed the melody to the spirit of Schubert). The composer’s last surviving keyboard work bears a dedication to Clara.
Fearful that he might unwittingly bring harm to his wife, Schumann demanded to be removed to an asylum on 26 February. At the urging of the physician called in to examine him (a Dr Böger), he agreed to spend the night at home, but awoke the next morning in a profoundly melancholy state. After working for a time on the fair copy of his variations, he slipped undetected out of the house in the early afternoon and made for the bridge over the Rhine. After diving headlong into the river, he was rescued by fishermen who had observed him from nearby. Thereafter Clara was not allowed to see him, nor was she informed of his suicide attempt (though she soon realized the truth). In response to Schumann’s persistent demands to be institutionalized, Hasenclever arranged for his admission to a private sanatorium at Endenich near Bonn. Clara was prevented from bidding him farewell when he departed in the company of Hasenclever and two male attendants on 4 March. She would not see him again until July 1856.
19. The late styles.
The last years of Schumann’s career were intensely productive ones. In the period between his arrival in Düsseldorf in 1850 and his removal to Endenich in 1854, he completed no fewer than 50 works, many of them multi-movement cycles or collections. Viewed as a whole, these pieces recapitulate the earlier progression through the genres (the poetic cycle for keyboard, the lied, symphony, concerto, chamber music in the ‘higher’ forms, oratorio and instrumental Hausmusik are all represented), a process culminating in the choral-orchestral ballade (a pendant to the ‘literary operas’ of the Dresden years) and the composition of church music. The alternation of larger with less imposing projects speaks to an outlook in which idealism was tempered by a shrewd sense for the marketplace.
The aesthetic worth of the late music remains a point of contention even among devotees of Schumann’s art. Perhaps biassed by their foreknowledge of his unfortunate end, many commentators have searched for signs of mental decay in this repertory, a dubious exercise at best. The often repeated claim that Schumann’s psychological decline finds a parallel in his ‘gloomy’ orchestration, for instance, is defensible on neither musical nor biographical grounds. In the first place, the scoring of the late works is by no means uniformly sombre: the overture to Hermann und Dorothea, to cite one of many examples, is as deftly orchestrated as anything by Weber or Mendelssohn. Moreover, a darkly hued work such as the final version of the D minor Symphony was the product of relatively happy times, while the luminously scored Vom Pagen und der Königstochter dates from a period of physical and mental distress. It was a matter less of a discrepancy between psychic state and sonorous elaboration than of a musical imagination capable of embracing a diversity of styles. Each of these is in turn projected by one or more of a colourful cast of personae: the lyric poet, the symphonist, the storyteller, the ecclesiastic, the collector, the pedagogue and the Davidsbündler.
As a lyric poet, Schumann explored the inner lives of his subjects in the Sieben Lieder on Kulmann texts (op.104) and the Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart (op.135). In that the former provide a chronological account of the poet’s brief life and the latter follow the queen from her departure from France to the moments before her death, both cycles may be said to echo the narrative trajectory of Frauenliebe und -leben (op.42). The generally affirmative tone of the earlier work, however, gives way to mysterious understatement in the Kulmann lieder and an unusual blend of passion and austerity in the Maria Stuart cycle.
At the opposite pole from the introspective lyricist is the extroverted symphonist. The public character of this persona emerges in Schumann’s use of well-known tunes such as the Marseillaise and the Rheinweinlied (‘Bekränzt mit Laub’) in the overture to Hermann und Dorothea op.136 and the Fest-Ouverture op.123, respectively. While Schumann himself maintained that ‘popular elements should prevail’ in the Third Symphony, his real achievement lay in employing these elements as agents of unity on a large scale. Similarly, the concertante works of the last years are characterized by a synthesis of virtuosity and musical substance, most obviously in the written-out cadenzas of the Cello Concerto, the Introduction and Concert-Allegro for piano and the Phantasie for violin, where the traditional site of soloistic display becomes a secondary development section.
The recall of thematic ideas over the span of a multi-movement work, a feature of the Third Symphony and the concertos for cello and violin, is an essentially narrative technique and hence a manifestation of the storyteller persona. This figure naturally dominates in the ballad-type works for chorus and orchestra, most of which take the preservation of memory as their poetic theme. Indeed, the sharing of the narrative voice by solo voices and chorus alike in Der Königssohn, Des Sängers Fluch and Vom Pagen und der Königstochter underlines the fact that memory is at once an individual and a communal affair. The epic quality of Vom Pagen und der Königstocher, its text an allegory for the bewitching power of the recollective faculty, is enhanced by a web of motivic recurrences and transformations.
Given his fondness for black attire, Schumann was often mistaken for an ecclesiastic by the inhabitants of Düsseldorf. The religious side of his personality was free of dogmatism. In his principal works to Latin texts, the Missa sacra and the Requiem, he strove, in contrast, for the ‘lofty simplicity and dignity’ that E.T.A. Hoffmann isolated as the hallmarks of genuine church music. These works likewise attest the fine line between the sacred and the profane in Schumann’s output. Both emphasize the notion of redemption, the underlying theme of the Peri, the literary operas and the ‘musical fairy tale’ Der Rose Pilgerfahrt.
The figure of the collector is concerned with redemption of a material sort, with the preservation and arrangement of fragile objects that might otherwise perish. Once assembled into a collection, these objects are imbued with an aura, a mixture of distance and proximity intended to fill the beholder with awe. The literary manifestations of this persona during Schumann’s last years include the numerous citations gathered for Dichtergarten, while the Bunte Blätter, Albumblätter and ‘Bachiana’ represent the musical products of the same passion for collecting. In adding transparent accompaniments to Bach’s works for solo violin, Schumann provided these compositions with the musical equivalent of an aura.
If the collector preserves objects, then the pedagogue preserves traditions. Schumann initiated a pedagogical project of his own with the Album für die Jugend and the Lieder-Album für die Jugend, and amplified it with the Ballscenen, Sieben Clavierstücke in Fughettenform, Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend and Kinderball. While all of these belong to the world of Hausmusik, aiming to promote conviviality and edification, several of their constituent pieces disclose an undeniably poetic quality. The last movement of Marie’s sonata (no.3) from the Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend is designated ‘Traum eines Kindes’ and quotes the opening music of Julie’s sonata (no.1) from the same set, as if to say that the realm of early childhood is accessible only through dream.
Certainly, the poetry of the late music is largely a function of the composer’s Davidsbündler persona. Though stimulated by his contact with Brahms and Joachim in the autumn of 1853, the resurgence of Schumann’s youthful, esoteric manner was well under way two years before: witness the alternation of Florestan, Eusebius and Kreisler pieces in the Drei Fantasiestücke (op.111) and the A minor Violin Sonata, and the prevalence of mosaic-like designs (redolent of the Novelletten) in the G minor Piano Trio. The movements of the Gesänge der Frühe (op.133), like those of the keyboard cycles of the 1830s, are bound together by a network of subtly related motivic threads. Schumann’s translation of a verbal motto into a musical motif in the F–A–E sonata clearly recalls the fanciful technique of encipherment already employed in the Abegg Variations and Carnaval. The treatment of the ‘angelic’ theme as a migrating cantus firmus brings to mind one of the distinguishing features of the Impromptus op.5. The continuity between Schumann’s earlier and later manner can be observed in another domain as well. Writing to Strackerjahn soon before the publication of his collected critical writings, Schumann was pleased to note that he had ‘hardly deviated from views expressed 20 years ago’.
20. Endenich, 1854–6.
Situated on a well-kept estate in Endenich, a suburb of Bonn, the private asylum where Schumann spent his last years was one of the more progressive institutions of its type. Its guiding force was Dr Franz Richarz, an adherent of the ‘no-restraint’ method championed by the British physician John Conolly. Though he neither force-fed nor drugged his patients, Richarz discouraged direct contact with relatives in the belief that such meetings might set off untoward reversals. It was chiefly for this reason that Clara did not see her husband until nearly two and a half years into his confinement, and just two days before his death.
While Schumann was severely psychotic when admitted to Endenich in March 1854, he was better the following month and well enough in September to initiate correspondence with Brahms, who had since taken up residence in Düsseldorf, and with Clara. (In the meantime, on 11 June Clara had given birth to another son, named Felix, after Mendelssohn.) From November 1854 to October 1855, however, Schumann’s condition worsened dramatically. After a brief period of improvement, the final decline set in, leading to death in July 1856.
Tantalizing details of the Endenich years are provided by the logbook or diary in which Richarz maintained a close record of his famous patient’s activities. When his health permitted, Schumann strolled into Bonn to view the Beethoven monument, played the Lipp piano in the room adjoining his own, wrote letters and received friends including Joachim, Brahms, Wasielewski and Bettina von Arnim, née Brentano (as a rule, these visitors were permitted to communicate with him only through an aperture in the wall of his room). During his more lucid moments he even managed to undertake a few compositional projects: the Paganini harmonizations begun in Düsseldorf (March–June 1855), a keyboard fugue (January 1856), a piano reduction of Joachim’s overture Heinrich IV, and a harmonization of the chorale Wenn mein Stündlein vorhanden ist. Perhaps other compositions were among the papers and letters that, according to Richarz, Schumann consigned to the flames in April 1856.
A particularly revealing entry from Richarz’s diary (12 September 1855) relates the probable cause of the composer’s final illness: ‘Recently [Schumann] has been jotting down all sorts of things, many of them melancholy in content, e.g. “In 1832 I contracted syphilis and was cured with arsenic”.’ The most likely source of the infection was the young woman known only as ‘Christel’ or ‘Charitas’, with whom Schumann was on intimate terms in 1831 and 1832. The hallucinations and auditory disturbances he experienced in February 1854 probably mark the onset of the final stage of the disease after a long period of latency. The steady deterioration of his neurological system brought with it convulsive fits, the gradual loss of the ability to speak clearly, delusional ideas (among them the conviction that he was being poisoned), aggressive behaviour and protracted periods of screaming that left him hoarse. The personae associated with Schumann’s late compositional styles occasionally appeared during the Endenich years, but in the form of grotesque self-parodies. The storyteller was losing his memory (writing to Clara, Schumann repeatedly asked ‘Do you remember … ?’ in an attempt to preserve the receding past); the collector was reduced to alphabetizing the names of cities culled from an atlas.
Clara had little inkling of the severity of her husband’s dementia. Alerted by Bettina von Arnim in May 1855 to a regressive turn in Schumann’s condition, she subsequently received reassuring reports from Joachim and also from Richarz, whom she met in Brühl. But when she learnt from Brahms in June 1856 that Schumann had not left his bed for several weeks, she decided to investigate for herself. Twice prevented from seeing him by Richarz and Brahms (during visits to Endenich on 14 and 23 July), she was finally admitted to his sickroom on 27 July. Now in the throes of pneumonia and barely conscious, Schumann mustered the strength to embrace her and mumble a few words of recognition. At 4 p.m. on 29 July, he died, quietly and alone; Clara had gone to the railway station to meet Joachim. Two days later he was buried in a cemetery near the Sternentor in Bonn. Among the mourners at the simple service were Brahms, Joachim, Dietrich, Wasielewski and Hiller. According to Klaus Groth, the small cortège attracted a crowd of onlookers, who came ‘flooding from every street and lane as if to watch a prince pass by’.
Asked for an opinion on Schumann, a follower of the European musical scene in about 1840 would probably have identified him as a critic, not a composer. Even members of the relatively limited circle who knew his earlier compositions often found them bizarre and eccentric. In a telling allusion to the fragmentary quality that many listeners found difficult to grasp, Gottfried Weber described the diminutive movements of Papillons as ‘thought splinters’. (Nietzsche would later cast the composer’s penchant for the miniature in an even more negative light with the claim that ‘Schumann’s taste was basically a small taste’.) Reacting to charges of this sort at mid-century, Schumann reissued opp.5, 6, 13, 14 and 16 between 1850 and 1853 in versions specifically geared to appeal to a wider audience.
By this time, however, the contemporary outlook on Schumann’s compositions had taken a decisive turn. With the First Symphony and the Piano Quintet, he began to garner the public recognition that had previously eluded him. Performed in centres as remote from his native Saxony as Riga and New York, Das Paradies und die Peri established his reputation as a composer of international stature. The appropriation of his music by the spokesmen for what was then taken to be musical progress also played a part in this shift. In the eyes of a Hegelian critic such as Brendel, Schumann’s output embodied a dialectic in which the piano music of the 1830s served as the ‘subjective’ term, the works of 1840–45 supplied an ‘objective’ counterpart, and the Second Symphony nearly effected a synthesis of these trends. Liszt, identified by Brendel as one of the leaders of the New German School, heard in Schumann’s oratorios, choral-orchestral ballades and Faust settings a realization of the demand that ‘music in its masterpieces should absorb the masterpieces of literature’. Critics of both conservative and progressive leanings, however, detected a tendency towards mannerism in the works conceived just before the onset of Schumann’s final illness. Still prevalent today, this view has been challenged by only a handful of commentators, most notably Reinhard Kapp, for whom the late music is at once sober or ‘objective’ in tone and intensely concentrated in utterance.
Apart from these divergences of opinion, there is no denying the impact of Schumann’s music on future generations of composers. Brahms’s debt to the older artist’s idiom extended to matters of melodic construction, tonal planning, contrapuntal elaboration and form. Hugo Wolf’s lieder are inconceivable without Schumann’s. The moments of apotheosis in Schumann’s symphonies in turn exercised an impact on the symphonies of Bruckner and, even more decisively, on those of Mahler. Indeed, the ‘breakthrough’ technique that both Paul Bekker and Theodor Adorno identified as a characteristic feature of Mahler’s symphonic forms has a precedent in Schumann’s fondness for introducing ‘new’ themes after his symphonic narratives are well underway, and for crowning those narratives with visionary chorales. Dating from around 1900, Mahler’s rescorings of Schumann’s symphonies and Manfred overture were motivated in part by a desire to enhance the motivic and formal clarity of works that the later composer, in conversation with Natalie Bauer-Lechner, described as ‘marvellous’ in nearly every other respect. Adorno has also pointed to the remarkable affinity between Schumann and Berg, both of whom demonstrated a predilection for allusions, encoded messages and musical ciphers. Nor was Schumann’s influence limited to the German sphere. Though critical of his orchestration, Tchaikovsky felt that Schumann’s symphonic works, chamber music and piano pieces revealed ‘a whole new world of musical forms’. For Grieg, the songs deserved to be recognized as major contributions to ‘world literature’. In France, Schumann’s music was admired by Debussy and Ravel while it concurrently played into the development of the literary movement known as ‘symbolism’.
20th-century commentators have described Schumann variously as a ‘modern-bourgeois intellectual’ (P. Rumenhöller), a ‘classicist’ (H.C. Wolff) and a composer of ‘Hausmusik for cognoscenti’ (C. Dahlhaus). In a sense he was all of these things and many others besides. A fastidious miniaturist, he was no less adept as a fabricator of monumental forms. A staunch upholder of tradition, he campaigned tirelessly for the ‘new, poetic future’ proclaimed in the pages of the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.
Robert Schumanns Werke, ed. C. Schumann, J. Brahms and others (Leipzig, 1881–93) [SW]
Robert Schumann: Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, ed. A. Mayeda, K.W. Niemoller and others (Mainz, 1991–) [NSA]
K. Hofmann: Die Erstdrucke der Werke von Robert Schumann (Tutzing, 1979) [woos]
Der Corsar, opera
O. Marbach, after Byron
ed. J. Draheim, 1983
unfinished; chorus of corsairs, interlude and a sketch for Conrad’s air
Schumann (with R. Reinick), after L. Tieck and C.F. Hebbel
Leipzig, Stadt, 25 June 1850
in 4 acts; first pubd in piano reduction
Manfred, dramatic poem
Byron, trans. K.A. Suckow, abridged Schumann
Weimar, 13 June 1852
first pubd in piano reduction
Choral with orchestra
Opp.98b, 108, 112, 116, 139, 140 and 143 are also published in vocal score in SW ix/8, and opp.144, 147, 148 and the Scenen aus Goethes Faust in SW ix/9
Psalm cl, S, A, pf, orch
Overture and chorus (Chor von Landleuten), chorus, pf, orch
MS in private collection
orch version of op.64 no.3 (see songs)
Das Paradies und die Peri, solo vv, chorus, orch
from T. Moore: Lalla Rookh, trans. and adapted
Leipzig, 4 Dec 1843
first contemplated July 1841
Scenen aus Goethes Faust, solo vv, chorus, orch
J.W. von Goethe
Cologne, 13 Jan 1862 (scene 7 first performed Dresden, Weimar and Leipzig, 29 August 1849)
first pubd in piano reduction
Adventlied, S, chorus, orch
first pubd in piano reduction
Beim Abschied zu singen, chorus, wind/pf
E. von Feuchtersleben
Verzweifle nicht im Schmerzenstal, double men's chorus, orch
orch version of motet op.93
Requiem für Mignon, solo vv, chorus, orch
from Goethe: Wilhelm Meister
Düsseldorf, 21 Nov 1850
see also songs, op.98a
Nachtlied, chorus, orch
Düsseldorf, 13 March 1851
Der Rose Pilgerfahrt, solo vv, chorus, orch
Düsseldorf, 5 Feb 1852
also pubd in piano reduction
Der Königssohn, solo vv, chorus, orch
Fest-Ouverture, T, chorus, orch
W. Müller, M. Claudius
Düsseldorf, 17 May 1853
on J. André’s Rheinweinlied
Des Sängers Fluch, solo vv, chorus, orch
R. Pohl, after Uhland
Vom Pagen und der Königstochter, solo vv, chorus, orch
Düsseldorf, 3 Dec 1852
Das Glück von Edenhall, solo vv, chorus, orch
R. Hasenclever, after Uhland
Neujahrslied, chorus, orch
Düsseldorf 11 Jan 1851
Missa sacra, chorus, orch
first pubd in organ reduction
Requiem, chorus, orch
Title, key, forces
Piano Concerto, e
Piano Concerto, E♭
Piano Concerto, F
Introduction and Variations on a theme of Paganini
introduction, theme and sketches for 4 variations; variations 3 and 4 used in opp.4 and 8
sketches for a ‘Sinfonia per il Hamlet’
Zwickau, 18 Nov 1832 (1st movt only); Schneeberg, 12 Feb 1833 (1st movt, rev.)
2 movts completed; 2nd movt in 2 versions; sketches for 3rd and 4th movts; orig. op.7
Piano Concerto, d
1 movt only
sketches for 2 movts
sketches for 4 movts; scherzo used in Bunte Blätter
Symphony no.1, B♭ (‘Spring’)
Leipzig, 31 March 1841
movts orig. entitled 1 Frühlingsbeginn, 2 Abend, 3 Frohe Gespielen, 4 Voller Frühling; facs. of sketches and autograph (New York, 1967)
Overture, Scherzo and Finale, e–E
1841; last movt rev. 1845
Leipzig, 6 Dec 1841
orig. title Suite, then Symphonette
Piano Concerto, a
1st movt 1841; 2nd and 3rd movts 1845
Leipzig, 1 Jan 1846
first movt orig. Phantasie, pf, orch
Symphony no.2, C
Leipzig, 5 Nov 1846
also arr. pf 4 hands, 1848
Genoveva, ov. to opera, c
Leipzig, 25 Feb 1850
Concertstück, F, 4 hn
Leipzig, 25 Feb 1850
Introduction and Allegro appassionato (Concertstück)
Leipzig, 14 Feb 1850
Symphony no.3, E♭ (‘Rhenish’)
Düsseldorf, 6 Feb 1851
Die Braut von Messina, ov., c
Düsseldorf, 13 March 1851
to F. von Schiller’s play
Manfred, ov., e♭
Weimar, 14 March 1852
Symphony no.4, d
1841 as no.2; rev. 1851 as no.4
Leipzig, 6 Dec 1841; Düsseldorf, 30 Dec 1852
first version pubd (1891)
Julius Cäsar, ov., f
Düsseldorf, 3 Aug 1852
to W. Shakespeare’s play
Orch of Scherzo by N. Burgmüller
from Burgmüller’s unfinished 2nd symphony
Cello Concerto, a
Leipzig, 9 June 1860
orig. title Konzertstück
Phantasie, C, vn
Hanover, Jan 1854
Introduction and Concert-Allegro, d–D, pf
Utrecht, 26 Nov 1853
Hermann und Dorothea, ov., b
to Goethe’s epic poem; for projected opera
Violin Concerto, d
Berlin, 26 Nov 1937
Scenen aus Goethes Faust, ov., d
Cologne, 13 Jan 1862
see choral with orchestra
Title, key, forces
Quartet, c, vn, va, vc, pf
Quartet, B, vn, va, vc, pf
Quartet, A, vn, va, vc, pf
Allegro, melody inst, pf
sketch or draft, lost
2 string quartets, D, E♭
3 string quartets, a, F, A
arr. pf solo, 1853
iv, 1, 22, 41
Quintet, E♭, 2 vn, va, vc, pf
Quartet, E♭, vn, va, vc, pf
Andante and variations, 2 pf, 2 vc, hn
orig. version of op.46, see keyboard
Trio no.1, d, vn, vc, pf
Adagio and Allegro, A♭, hn/(vn/vc), pf
orig. title Romanze und Allegro
Fantasiestücke, cl/(vn/vc), pf
orig. title Soiréestücke
Trio no.2, F, vn, vc, pf
Phantasiestücke, vn, vc, pf: 1 Romanze, 2 Humoreske, 3 Duett, 4 Finale
based on Pf Trio, a, 1842
Drei Romanzen, ob/(vn/cl), pf
Fünf Stücke im Volkston, vc/vn, pf
Sonata no.1, a, vn, pf
Trio no.3, g, vn, vc, pf
Märchenbilder, va/vn, pf
Sonata no.2, d, vn, pf
orig. pubd as 2te grosse Sonate
Pf acc. to 6 vn sonatas and partitas by Bach
Pf acc. to 6 vc suites by Bach
only acc. To Suite no.3 (BWv 1009) survives
Märchenerzählungen, cl/vn, va, pf
Sonata, vn, pf, ‘F–A–E’
2nd and 4th movts only; 1st and 3rd by A. Dietrich and Brahms
Sonata no.3, a, vn, pf
in 4 movts, 2 being those which Schumann wrote for ‘F–A–E’ sonata
5 Romanzen, vc, pf
Pf acc. to Paganini’s vn caprices
acc. to caprice no.24 not extant
Partsongs for mixed voices
SATB, unaccompanied, unless otherwise stated; incipit given only if different from title
R. Burns, trans. W. Gerhard
1 Das Hochlandmädchen
Nicht Damen tönt von hohem Rang
Wie du mit gift’gem Stachel fast
3 Mich zieht es nach dem Dörfchen hin
4 Die alte, gute Zeit
Wer lenkt nicht gern den heitern Blick
Schönster Bursch, den je ich traf
Vier Gesänge [orig. pubd as 4, 1, 2, 3; 5 added later]:
1 Nord oder Süd!
2 Am Bodensee
Schwelle die Segel, günstiger Wind!
Zierlich ist des Vogels Tritt im Schnee
4 Gute Nacht
Die gute Nacht, die ich dir sage
5 Hirtenknaben-Gesang, SSTT
Heloe! Heloe! Komm du auf unsre Heide
A. von Droste-Hülshoff
Romanzen und Balladen, i:
1 Der König von Thule
Es war ein König in Thule
J.W. von Goethe
Wie heisst König Ringangs Töchterlein?
Sah ein Knab’ ein Röslein steh’n
Auf hohen Burgeszinnen
A. von Chamisso
5 John Anderson
John Anderson, mein Lieb!
Burns, trans. Gerhard
Romanzen und Balladen, ii:
1 Schnitter Tod
Es ist ein Schnitter, der heisst Tod
A. von Arnim and C. Brentano: Des Knaben Wunderhorn
2 Im Walde [2nd setting]
Es zog eine Hochzeit den Berg entlang
3 Der traurige Jäger
Zur ew’gen Ruh’ sie sangen die schöne Müllerin
4 Der Rekrut
Sonst kam mein John mir zu
Burns, trans. Gerhard
5 Vom verwundeten Knaben
Es wollt’ ein Mädchen früh aufsteh’n
J.G. Herder: Volkslieder
Vier doppelchörige Gesänge:
1 An die Sterne
Sterne, in des Himmels Ferne!
2 Ungewisses Licht
Bahnlos und pfadlos
J.C. von Zedlitz
Nach oben musst du blicken
Gottes ist der Orient!
Romanzen und Balladen, iii:
1 Der Schmidt
Ich hör’ meinen Schatz
2 Die Nonne
Sie steht am Zellenfenster
3 Der Sänger
Noch singt den Widerhallen
4 John Anderson
John Anderson, mein Lieb!
Burns, trans. Gerhard
5 Romanze vom Gänsebuben
Helf’ mir Gott
Romanzen und Balladen, iv:
Das Haus benedei ich und preis’ es laut
2 Der Bänkelsänger Willie
O Bänkelsänger Willie, du ziehst zum Jahrmarkt aus
Burns, trans. Gerhard
3 Der Traum
Im schönstem Garten wallten zwei Buhlen
Seinen Traum, lind wob
5 Das Schifflein, fl, hn
Ein Schifflein ziehet leise
Des Glockentürmers Töchterlein
Mein hochgebornes Schätzelein
Bei Schenkung eines Flügels, pf
Orange und Myrthe hier
Wenn mein Stündlein vorhanden ist, arr. of chorale
facs. in R. Taylor: Robert Schumann (London, 1982)
Partsongs for women’s voices
SSAA; incipit given only if different from title
Romanzen, i, pf ad lib:
Alvaro de Ameida, trans. Eichendorff
Bin ein Feuer hell
Ich armes Klosterfräulein
4 Soldatenbraut [2nd setting]
Ach, wenn’s nur der König auch wüsst
Still bei Nacht fährt manches Schiff
6 Die Kapelle
Droben stehet die Kapelle
Romanzen, ii, pf ad lib:
Es wollt die Jungfrau früh aufsteh’n
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
2 Jäger Wohlgemut
Es jagt’ ein Jäger wohlgemut
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
3 Der Wassermann
Es war in des Maien mildem Glanz
4 Das verlassene Mägdelein [2nd setting]
Früh wann die Hähne kräh’n
5 Der Bleicherin Nachtlied
Bleiche, bleiche weisses Lein
6 In Meeres Mitten
Partsongs for men’s voices
TTBB; unaccompanied unless otherwise stated; incipit given only if different from title
1 Der träumende See
Der See ruht tief im blauen Traum
2 Die Minnesänger
Zu dem Wettgesange schreiten
3 Die Lotosblume [2nd setting]
Die Lotosblume ängstigt
4 Der Zecher als Doktrinär
Was quälte dir dein banges Herz?
5 Rastlose Liebe
Dem Schnee, dem Regen
J.W. von Goethe
Schneeglöckchen tut läuten
1 Der Eidgenossen Nachtwache
In stiller Bucht
Zittr’, o Erde dunkle Macht
Mit unserm Arm ist nichts getan
Ritornelle in canonischen Weisen [orig. order 5, 4, 2, 1, 6, 7, 8, 3]:1 Die Rose stand im Tau, 2 Lasst Lautenspiel und Becherklang, 3 Blüt’ oder Schnee!, 4 Gebt mir zu trinken!, 5 Zürne nicht des Herbstes Wind, 6 In Sommertagen rüste den Schlitten, 7 In Meeres Mitten ist ein offener Laden, 8 Hätte zu einem Traubenkerne [pubd 1906]
Mache deinem Meister Ehre
Drei Freiheitsgesänge, wind and brass insts ad lib:
1 Zu den Waffen
Vom Angesicht die Mask’ herab!
In Kümmernis und Dunkelheit
3 Deutscher Freiheitsgesang
Der Sieg ist dein, mein Heldenvolk!
Verzweifle nicht im Schmerzenstal, motet, double chorus, org ad lib [orchd 1852]
Fünf Gesänge aus H. Laubes Jagdbrevier, 4 hn ad lib [orig. order 1, 2, 3, 5, 4]:
1 Zur hohen Jagd
Frisch auf zum fröhlichen Jagen
2 Habet acht!
Habet Acht auf der Jagd
O frischer Morgen, frischer Mut
Früh steht der Jäger auf
5 Bei der Flasche
Wo gibt es wohl noch Jägerei
duets, trios etc. and works for vocal declamation with piano accompaniment and/or other instruments ad lib; incipit given only if different from title
Wenn der Winter sonst entschwand
Lied für xxx
Leicht wie gaukelnde Sylphiden
11 songs [nos.1–6 (woo21) as Sechs frühe Lieder, ed. K. Geiringer (Vienna, 1933)]:
Sterne der blauen himmlischen Auen
2 Die Weinende
Ich sah dich weinen!
Glück der Engel!
4 Kurzes Erwachen
Ich bin im Mai gegangen
5 Gesanges Erwachen
Könnt’ ich einmal wieder singen
6 An Anna I
Lange harrt ich
7 An Anna II [used in op.11]
Nicht im Tale
8 Im Herbste [used in op.22]
Zieh’ nur, du Sonne
9 Hirtenknabe [used in op.4 no.4]
Bin nur ein armer Hirtenknab
10 Der Fischer
Das Wasser rauscht, das Wasser schwoll
J.W. von Goethe
11 Klage [lost]
Sie schlingt um meinen Nacken
Patriotisches Lied (Der deutsche Rhein), 1v, chorus, pf
Sie sollen ihn nicht haben
Der Reiter und der Bodensee [frag.]
Der Reiter reitet durchs helle Tal
Die nächtliche Heerschau [frag.]
Nachts um die zwölfte Stunde
1 Morgens steh’ich auf und frage, 2 Es treibt mich hin, 3 Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen, 4 Lieb’ Liebchen, 5 Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden, 6 Warte, warte, wilder Schiffmann, 7 Berg und Burgen schaun herunter, 8 Anfangs wollt ich fast verzagen, 9 Mit Myrten und Rosen
Du meine Seele, du mein Herz
Lasst mich nur auf meinem Sattel gelten!
3 Der Nussbaum
Es grünet ein Nussbaum vor dem Haus
Mein Herz ist betrübt
R. Burns, trans. W. Gerhard
5 Lieder aus dem Schenkenbuch im Divan I
Sitz ich allein
6 Lieder aus dem Schenkenbuch im Divan II
Setze mir nicht
7 Die Lotosblume
Die Lotosblume ängstigt
Gottes ist der Orient
9 Lied der Suleika
Wie mit innigstem Behagen
Goethe, attrib. Marianne von Willemer
10 Die Hochländer-Witwe
Ich bin gekommen ins Niederland
Burns, trans. Gerhard
11 Lieder der Braut aus dem Liebesfrühling I
Mutter, Mutter! Glaube nicht
12 Lieder der Braut aus dem Liebesfrühling II
Lass mich ihn am Busen hangen
13 Hochländers Abschied
Mein Herz ist im Hochland
Burns, trans. Gerhard
14 Hochländisches Wiegenlied
Schlafe, süsser kleiner Donald
Burns, trans. Gerhard
15 Aus den hebräischen Gesängen
Mein Herz ist schwer!
Byron, trans. J. Körner
Es flüstert’s der Himmel
C. Fanshawe, trans. K. Kannegiesser
17 Zwei Venetianische Lieder I
Leis rudern hier
T. Moore, trans. F. Freiligrath
18 Zwei Venetianische Lieder II
Wenn durch die Piazzetta
Moore, trans. Freiligrath
19 Hauptmanns Weib
Hoch zu Pferd!
Burns, trans. Gerhard
20 Weit, weit
Wie kann ich froh
Burns, trans. Gerhard
21 Was will die einsame Träne?
Ich hab mein Weib allein
Burns, trans. Gerhard
23 Im Westen
Ich schau über Forth hinüber
Burns, trans. Gerhard
24 Du bist wie eine Blume
25 Aus den östlichen Rosen
Ich sende einen Gruss
26 Zum Schluss
Hier in diesen erdbeklommnen Lüften
Lieder und Gesänge, i:
1 Sag an, o lieber Vogel
2 Dem roten Röslein
Burns, trans. Gerhard
3 Was soll ich sagen?
Mein Aug ist trüb
A. von Chamisso
Grün ist der Jasminenstrauch
5 Nur ein lächelnder Blick
1 Ländliches Lied, 2 S
Und wenn die Primel schneeweiss blickt
2 Lied, 3 S
In meinem Garten die Nelken
3 Zigeunerleben, S, A, T, B, triangle, tambourine ad lib
Im Schatten des Waldes
1 Der Knabe mit dem Wunderhorn
Ich bin ein lust’ger Geselle
2 Der Page
Da ich nun entsagen müssen
3 Der Hidalgo
Es ist so süss zu scherzen
1 Die Löwenbraut
Mit der Myrte geschmückt
2 Die Kartenlegerin
Schlief die Mutter endlich ein
Chamisso, after P. Béranger
3 Die rote Hanne, chorus ad lib
Den Säugling an der Brust
Chamisso, after Béranger
Vier Duette, S, T:
Die Liebe ist ein Rosenstrauch
2 Liebhabers Ständchen
Wachst du noch, Liebchen, Gruss and Kuss!
Burns, trans. Gerhard
3 Unterm Fenster
Wer ist vor meiner Kammertür?
Burns, trans. Gerhard
Grossvater und Grossmutter
1 Lust der Sturmnacht
Wenn durch Berg und Tale
2 Stirb, Lieb und Freud!
Zu Augsburg steht ein hohes Haus
Wohlauf! noch getrunken den funkelnden Wein!
4 Erstes Grün
Du junges Grün, du frisches Gras!
5 Sehnsucht nach der Waldgegend
Wär ich nie aus euch gegangen
6 Auf das Trinkglas eines verstorbenen Freundes
Du herrlich Glas
Wohlauf und frisch gewandert
8 Stille Liebe
Könnt ich dich in Liedern preisen
Wärst du nicht, heil’ger Abendschein!
10 Stille Thränen
Du bist vom Schlaf erstanden
11 Wer machte dich so krank?
Dass du so krank geworden
12 Alte Laute
Hörst du den Vogel singen?
1 Sonntags am Rhein
Des Sonntags in der Morgenstund
Komm in die stille Nacht
3 Nichts schöneres
Als ich zuerst dich hab gesehn
4 An den Sonnenschein
5 Dichters Genesung
Und wieder hatt ich der Schönsten gedacht
Wolken, die ihr nach Osten eilt
Zwölf Gedichte aus F. Rückerts Liebesfrühling [nos.2, 4, 11 by Clara Schumann]:1 Der Himmel hat ein Träne geweint, 3 O ihr Herren, 5 Ich hab in mich gesogen, 6 Liebste, was kann denn uns scheiden?, S, T, 7 Schön ist das Fest des Lenzes, S, T, 8 Flügel! Flügel! um zu fliegen, 9 Rose, Meer und Sonne, 10 O Sonn, o Meer, o Rose, 12 So wahr die Sonne scheinet, S, T
Liederkreis [op.77/1 orig. included as 1st song, but omitted in 2/1850]:
1 In der Fremde
Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot
Dein Bildnis wunderselig
Es ist schon spät
4 Die Stille
Es weiss und rät es doch keiner
Es war, als hätt der Himmel die Erde still geküsst
6 Schöne Fremde
Es rauschen die Wipfel und schauern
7 Auf einer Burg
Eingeschlafen auf der Lauer
8 In der Fremde
Ich hör die Bächlein rauschen
Ich kann wohl manchmal singen
Dämm’rung will die Flügel spreiten
11 Im Walde
Es zog eine Hochzeit den Berg entlang
Überm Garten durch die Lüfte
Der Himmel wölbt sich rein und blau
H.C. Andersen, trans. Chamisso
Die Mutter betet herzig
Andersen, trans. Chamisso
3 Der Soldat
Es geht bei gedämpfter Trommel Klang
Andersen, trans. Chamisso
4 Der Spielmann
Im Städtchen gibt es des Jubels viel
Andersen, trans. Chamisso
5 Verratene Liebe
Da Nachts wir uns küssten
Frauenliebe und -leben:1 Seit ich ihn gesehen, 2 Er, der Herrlichste von allen, 3 Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben, 4 Du Ring an meinem Finger, 5 Helft mir, ihr Schwestern, 6 Süsser Freund, du blickest, 7 An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust, 8 Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan
Drei zweistimmige Lieder:
1 Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär [later incorporated in op.81]
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Das Laub fällt von den Bäumen
3 Schön Blümelein
Ich bin hinaus gegangen
Romanzen und Balladen, i:
1 Der Schatzgräber
Wenn alle Wälder schliefen
Es zogen zwei rüst’ge Gesellen
3 Abends am Strand
Wir sassen am Fischerhause
Dichterliebe [orig. included op.127/2, 3 and op.142/2, 4]:
1 Im wunderschönen Monat Mai, 2 Aus meinen Tränen spriessen, 3 Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube, die Sonne, 4 Wenn ich in deine Augen seh, 5 Ich will meine Seele tauchen, 6 Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome, 7 Ich grolle nicht, 8 Und wüssten’s die Blumen, die kleinen, 9 Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen, 10 Hör ich das Liedchen klingen, 11 Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen, 12 Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen, 13 Ich hab im Traum geweinet, 14 Allnächtlich im Traume, 15 Aus alten Märchen, 16 Die alten, bösen Lieder
Romanzen und Balladen, ii:
1 Die beiden Grenadiere
Nach Frankreich zogen zwei Grenadier’
2 Die feindlichen Brüder
Oben auf des Berges Spitze
3 Die Nonne
Im Garten steht die Nonne
Lieder und Gesänge, ii:
Ich blick in mein Herz
Wenn ich früh in den Garten geh
3 Ich wandre nicht
Warum soll ich denn wandern
4 Auf dem Rhein
Auf deinem Grunde haben sie an verborgnem Ort
Dir zu eröffnen mein Herz
Romanzen und Balladen, iii:
1 Blondels Lied
Spähend nach dem Eisengitter
Es flüstern und rauschen die Wogen
3 Der arme Peter
1 Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum
2 In meiner Brust
3 Der arme Peter wankt vorbei
Die Mitternacht zog näher schon
Romanzen und Balladen, iv:
1 Die Soldatenbraut
Ach, wenn’s nur der König auch wüsst
2 Das verlassne Mägdelein
Früh wann die Hähne krähn
1 Entflieh mit mir und sei mein Weib
2 Es fiel ein Reif in der Frühlingsnacht
3 Auf ihrem Grab, S, T
Geibel, after Spanish poets
1 Erste Begegnung, S, A
Von dem Rosenbusch, o Mutter
2 Intermezzo, T, B
Und schläfst du, mein Mädchen, auf!
3 Liebesgram, S, A
Dereinst, dereinst, o Gedanke mein
4 In der Nacht, S, T
Alle gingen, Herz, zur Ruh’
5 Es ist verraten, S, A, T, B
Dass ihr steht in Liebesglut
6 Melancholie, S
Wann, wann erscheint der Morgen
7 Geständnis, T
Also lieb ich euch
8 Botschaft, S, A
Nelken wind ich und Jasmin
9 Ich bin geliebt, S, A, T, B
Mögen alle bösen Zungen
10 Der Kontrabandiste, Bar
Ich bin der Kontrabandiste
Lieder und Gesänge, iii:
1 Der frohe Wandersmann [orig. included in op.39]
Wem Gott will rechte Gunst erweisen
2 Mein Garten
Veilchen, Rosmarin, Mimosen
A. Hoffmann von Fallersleben
Was weht um meine Schläfe
4 Stiller Vorwurf
In einsamen Stunden drängt Wehmut sich auf
? O.L. Wolff
Nicht so schnelle
Ein scheckiges Pferd
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
Zur Schmiede ging ein junger Held
Der weisse Hirsch [sketches]
Es gingen drei Jäger
Der Mond, der scheint
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Vier Duette, S, T:
Eia, wie flattert der Kranz
2 Er und Sie
Seh ich in das stille Tal
3 Ich denke dein
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf
Sommerruh, wie schön bist du
C. Schad, altered by Schumann
Lieder-Album für die Jugend:
1 Der Abendstern
Du lieblicher Stern
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
O Schmetterling, sprich
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
Kuckuck, Kuckuck ruft aus dem Wald
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
So sei gegrüsst vieltausendmal
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
5 Vom Schlaraffenland
Kommt, wir wollen uns begeben
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
Der Sonntag ist gekommen
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
1 Unter die Soldaten
2 Jeden Morgen, in der Frühe
8 Des Knaben Berglied
Ich bin vom Berg der Hirtenknab
9 Mailied, duet ad lib
Komm, lieber Mai
10 Das Käuzlein
Ich armes Käuzlein kleine
Der Knaben Wunderhorn
11 Hinaus ins Freie!
Wie blüht es im Tale
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
12 Der Sandmann
Zwei feine Stieflein hab ich an
Marienwürmchen, setze dich
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
14 Die Waise
Der Frühling kehret wieder
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
15 Das Glück, duet
Vöglein vom Zweig
Als das Christkind ward zur Welt gebracht
17 Die wandelnde Glocke
Es war ein Kind
18 Frühlingslied, duet ad lib
Schneeglöckchen klingen wieder
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
19 Frühlings Ankunft
Nach diesen trüben Tagen
Hoffmann von Fallersleben
20 Die Schwalben, duet
Es fliegen zwei Schwalben
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Wenn fromme Kindlein schlafen gehn
22 Des Sennen Abschied
Ihr Matten, lebt wohl, ihr sonnigen Weiden!
F. von Schiller
23 Er ist’s
Frühling lässt sein blaues Band
24 Spinnelied, trio ad lib
25 Des Buben Schützenlied
Mit dem Pfeil, dem Bogen
Der Schnee, der gestern noch in Flöckchen
27 Lied Lynceus des Türmers
Zum Sehen geboren
28 Mignon [also as op.98a/1]
Kennst du das Land
Lieben, von ganzer Seele lieben
2 Die Blume der Ergebung
Ich bin die Blum’ in Garten
3 Der Einsiedler
Komm, Trost der Welt
Der Handschuh [orig. version for chorus, 1849]
Vor seinem Löwengarten
W. von der Neun [F.W.T. Schöpff]
1 Es stürmet am Abendhimmel
2 Heimliches Verschwinden
Nachts zu unbekannter Stunde
Durch die Tannen und die Linden
4 Abschied vom Walde
Nun scheidet vom sterbenden Walde
5 Ins Freie
Mir ist’s so eng allüberall!
6 Röselein, Röselein!
Sechs Gedichte von N. Lenau und Requiem
1 Lied eines Schmiedes
Fein Rösslein, ich beschlage dich
2 Meine Rose
Dem holden Lenzgeschmeide
3 Kommen und Scheiden
So oft sie kam
4 Die Sennin
Schöne Sennin, noch einmal singe
Wild verwachs’ne dunkle Fichten
6 Der schwere Abend
Die dunklen Wolken hingen
Ruh von schmerzensreichen Mühen aus
Byron: Hebrew Melodies, trans. Körner
1 Die Tochter Jephthas
Da die Heimat, o Vater
2 An den Mond
Schlaflose Sonne, melanchol’scher Stern!
3 Dem Helden
Dein Tag ist aus, dein Ruhm fing an
Lieder und Gesänge, iv:
Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh
Die Sonne sah die Erde an
3 Ihre Stimme
Lass tief in dir mich lesen
A. von Platen
Hört ihr im Laube des Regens
5 Himmel und Erde
Wie der Bäume kühne Wipfel
Lieder und Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister:
1 Kennst du das Land, 2 Ballade des Harfners (Was hör ich draussen vor dem Thor), 3 Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt, 4 Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen ass, 5 Heiss mich nicht reden, 6 Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt, 7 Singet nicht in Trauertönen, 8 An die Türen will ich schleichen, 9 So lasst mich scheinen
1 Meine Töne still und heiter, T, 2 Liebster, deine Worte stehlen, S, 3 Ich bin dein Baum, A, B, 4 Mein schöner Stern!, T, 5 Schön ist das Fest des Lenzes, S, A, T, B, 6 O Freund, mein Schirm, mein Schutz!, A/S, 7 Die tausend Grüsse, S, T, 8 So wahr die Sonne scheinet, S, A, T, B
Mädchenlieder, S, A/2 S:
Pflücket Rosen, um das Haar schön
Der Frühling kehret wieder
3 An die Nachtigall
Bleibe hier und singe, liebe Nachtigall!
4 An den Abendstern
Schweb empor am Himmel
1 Mond, meiner Seele Liebling, 2 Viel Glück zur Reise, Schwalben!, 3 Du nennst mich armes Mädchen, 4 Der Zeisig (Wir sind ja, Kind, im Maie), 5 Reich mir die Hand, o Wolke, 6 Die letzten Blumen starben, 7 Gekämpft hat meine Barke
Schön Hedwig, declamation
Im Kreise der Vasallen
Die Weiden lassen matt die Zweige hangen
2 Die Fensterscheibe
Die Fenster klär ich zum Feiertag
3 Der Gärtner
Auf ihrem Leibrösslein
4 Die Spinnerin
Auf dem Dorf in den Spinnstuben
5 Im Wald
Ich zieh so allein in den Wald hinein!
Es ist so still geworden
Drei Lieder, 3 female vv:
Unter den roten Blumen schlummere
Senkt die Nacht den sanften Fittig nieder
O blicke, wenn den Sinn dir will die Welt
Vier Husarenlieder, Bar:
1 Der Husar, trara!, 2 Der leidige Frieden, 3 Den grünen Zeigern, 4 Da liegt der Feinde gestreckte Schar
1 Die Hütte
Im Wald, in grüner Runde
Es geht der Tag zur Neige
3 Der Bräutigam und die Birke
Birke, Birke, des Waldes Zier
Zwei Balladen, declamations:
1 Ballade vom Haideknaben
Der Knabe träumt
2 Die Flüchtlinge
Der Hagel klirrt nieder
P.B. Shelley, trans.
Fünf heitere Gesänge:
1 Die Meerfee
Helle Silberglöcklein klingen
Aus dem dunkeln Tor wallt
3 Jung Volkers Lied [orig. intended for op.107 no.4]
Und die mich trug im Mutterarm
Das Körnlein springt
Nun stehen die Rosen in Blüte
Fünf Lieder und Gesänge:
1 Sängers Trost
Weint auch einst kein Liebchen
2 Dein Angesicht [orig. intended for op.48]
3 Es leuchtet meine Liebe [orig. intended for op.48]
4 Mein altes Ross
Moritz, Graf von Strachwitz
5 Schlusslied des Narren
Und als ich ein winzig Bübchen war
from W. Shakespeare: Twelfth Night, trans. Tieck and A. Schlegel
Nach langem Frost
Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart:
trans. G. Vincke
1 Abschied von Frankreich
Ich zieh dahin
2 Nach der Geburt ihres Sohnes
Herr Jesu Christ
3 An die Königin Elisabeth
Nur ein Gedanke
4 Abschied von der Welt
Was nützt die mir noch zugemess’ne Zeit?
O Gott, mein Gebieter
1 Vorspiel, pf 4 hands, 2 Tief im Herzen trag ich Pein, S, 3 O wie lieblich ist das Mädchen, T, 4 Bedeckt mich mit Blumen, S, A, 5 Flutenreicher Ebro, Bar, 6 Intermezzo, pf 4 hands, 7 Weh, wie zornig ist das Mädchen, T, 8 Hoch, hoch sind die Berge, A, 9 Blaue Augen hat das Mädchen, T, B, 10 Dunkler Lichtglanz, S, A, T, B
From Des Sängers Fluch:
R. Pohl, after Uhland
4 Provenzalisches Lied
In den Talen der Provence
In der hohen Hall sass König Sifrid
1 Trost im Gesang
Der Wandrer, dem verschwunden
2 Lehn deine Wang [orig. intended for op.48]
Kleine Tropfen, seid ihr Tränen
4 Mein Wagen rollet langsam [orig. intended for op.48]
Liedchen von Marie und Papa, duet
Gern mach’ ich dir
Mein hochgebor’nes Schätzelein
Das Käuzlein [2nd setting]
Ich armes Käuzlein kleine
Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Deutscher Blumengarten [duet]
Index to the songs
Abendlied, op.107 no.6; Abends am Strand, op.45 no.3; Abschied vom Walde, op.89 no.4; Abschied von der Welt, op.135 no.4; Abschied von Frankreich, op.135 no.1; Ach, wenn’s nur der König auch wüsst, op.64 no.1; Alle gingen, Herz, zur Ruh’, op.74 no.4; Allnächtlich im Traume, op.48 no.14; Als das Christkind ward zur Welt gebracht, op.79 no.16; Als ich zuerst dich hab gesehn, op.36 no3; Also lieb ich euch, op.74 no.7; Alte Laute, op.35 no.12; Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen, op.48 no.12
An Anna I, 1828
An Anna II, 1828
An den Abendstern, op.103 no.4; An den Mond, op.95 no.2; An den Sonnenschein, op.36 no.4; An die Königin Elisabeth, op.135 no.3; An die Nachtigall, op.103 no.3; An die Türen will ich schleichen, op.98a no.8; Anfangs wollt ich fast verzagen, op.24 no.8; An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust, op.42 no.7; Auf das Trinkglas eines verstorbenen Freundes, op.35 no.6; Auf deinem Grunde haben sie an verborgnem Ort, op.51 no.4; Auf dem Dorf in den Spinnstuben, op.107 no.4
Auf dem Rhein, op.51 no.4; Auf einer Burg, op.39 no.7; Auf ihrem Grab, op.64 no.3; Auf ihrem Leibrösslein, op.107 no.3; Aufträge, op.77 no.5; Aus alten Märchen, op.48 no.15; Aus dem dunkeln Tor wallt, op.125 no.2; Aus den hebräischen Gesängen, op.25 no.15; Aus den östlichen Rosen, op.25 no.25; Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot, op.39 no.1; Aus meinen Tränen spriessen, op.48 no.2; Ballade, op.139 no.7; Ballade des Harfners, op.98a no.2; Ballade vom Haideknaben, op.122 no.1
Bedeckt mich mit Blumen, op.138 no.4; Belsatzar, op.57; Berg und schaun herunter, op.24 no.7; Bin nur ein armer Hirtenknab, 1828
Birke, Birke, des Waldes Zier, op.119 no.3; Blaue Augen hat das Mädchen, op.138 no.9; Bleibe hier und singe, liebe Nachtigall!, op.103 no.3; Blondels Lied, op.53 no.1; Botschaft, op.74 no.8; Da die Heimat, op.95 no.1; Da ich nun entsagen müssen, op.30 no.2; Da liegt Feinde gestreckte Schar, op.117 no.4; Dämm’rung will die Flügel spreiten, op.39 no.10; Da Nachts wir uns küssten, op.40 no.5; Das Glück, op.79 no.15
Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen, op.48 no.9; Das Käuzlein, op.79 no.10; Das Käuzlein, after op.142; Das Körnlein springt, op.125 no.4; Das Laub fällt von den Bäumen, op.43 no.2; Das Schwert, 1848
Dass du so krank geworden, op.35 no.11; Dass ihr steht in Liebesglut, op.74 no.5; Das verlassne Mägdelein, op.64 no.2; Das Wasser rauscht, das Wasser schwoll, 1828
Dein Angesicht, op.127 no.2; Dein Bildnis, op.39 no.2; Dein Tag ist aus, dein Ruhm fing an, op.95 no.3; Dem Helden, op.95 no.3
Dem holden Lenzgeschmeide, op.90 no.2; Dem roten Röslein gleicht mein Lieb, op.27 no.2; Den grünen Zeigern, op.117 no.3; Den Säugling an der Brust, op.31 no.3; Der Abendstern, op.79 no.1; Der arme Peter, op.53 no.3; Der arme Peter wankt vorbei, op.53 no.3; Der Bräutigam und die Birke, op.119 no.3; Der deutsche Rhein, 1840
Der Einsiedler, op.83 no.3; Dereinst, dereinst, o Gedanke mein, op.74 no.3; Der Fischer, 1828
Der frohe Wandersmann, op.77 no.1; Der Frühling kehret wieder, op.79 no.14
Der Frühling kehret wieder, op.103 no.2; Der Gärtner, op.107 no.3; Der Hagel klirrt nieder, op.122 no.2; Der Handschuh, op.87; Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum, op.53 no.3; Der Hidalgo, op.30 no.3; Der Himmel hat eine Träne geweint, op.37 no.1; Der Himmel wölbt sich rein und blau, op.40 no.1; Der Husar, trara!, op.117 no.1; Der Knabe mit dem Wunderhorn, op.30 no.1; Der Knabe träumt, op.122 no.1; Der Kontrabandiste, op.74 no.10; Der leidige Frieden, op.117 no.2; Der Mond, der scheint, 1848
Der Nussbaum, op.25 no.3; Der Page, op.30 no.2; Der Reiter reitet durchs helle Tal, 1840
Der Reiter und der Bodensee, 1840
Der Sandmann, op.79 no.12
Der Schatzgräber, op.45 no.1; Der Schnee, der gestern noch in Flöckchen, op.79 no.26; Der schwere Abend, op.90 no.6; Der Soldat, op.40 no.3; Der Sonntag ist gekommen, op.79 no.6; Der Spielmann, op.40 no.4; Der Wandrer, dem verschwunden, op.142 no.1; Der weisse Hirsch, 1848
Der Zeisig, op.104 no.4; Des Buben Schützenlied, op.79 no.25; Des Knaben Berglied, op.79 no.8; Des Sennen Abschied, op.79 no.22; Des Sonntags in der Morgenstund, op.36 no.1; Deutscher Blumengarten, after op.142; Dichterliebe, op.48
Dichters Genesung, op.36 no.5; Die alten, bösen Lieder, op.48 no.16; Die Ammenuhr, 1848
Die beiden Grenadiere, op.49 no.1; Die Blume der Ergebung, op.83 no.2; Die dunklen Wolken hingen, op.90 no.6; Die feindlichen Brüder, op.49 no.2; Die Fenster klär ich zum Feiertag, op.107 no.2; Die Fensterscheibe, op.107 no.2; Die Flüchtlinge, op.122 no.2; Die Hochländer-Witwe, op.25 no.10; Die Hütte, op.119 no.1; Die Kartenlegerin, op.31 no.2; Die letzten Blumen starben, op.104 no.6
Die Liebe ist ein Rosenstrauch, op.34 no.1; Die Lotosblume, op.25 no.7; Die Lotosblume ängstigt, op.25 no.7; Die Löwenbraut, op.31 no.1; Die Meerfee, op.125 no.1; Die Mitternacht zog näher schon, op.57; Die Mutter betet herzig, op.40 no.2; Die nächtliche Heerschau, 1840
Die Nonne, op.49 no.3; Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube, die Sonne, op.48 no.3; Die rote Hanne, op.31 no.3; Die Schwalben, op.79 no.20; Die Sennin, op.90 no.4; Die Soldatenbraut, op.64 no.1; Die Sonne sah die Erde an, op.96 no.2; Die Spinnerin, op.107 no.4; Die Stille, op.39 no.4; Die tausend Grüsse, op.101 no.7
Die Tochter Jephthas, op.95 no.1; Die Waise, op.79 no.14; Die wandelnde Glocke, op.79 no.17; Die Weiden lassen matt die Zweige hangen, op.107 no.1; Die Weinende, 1827
Dir zu eröffnen mein Herz, op.51 no.5; Du bist vom Schlaf erstanden, op.35 no.10; Du bist wie eine Blume, op.25 no.24; Du herrlich Glas, op.35 no.6; Du junges Grün, du frisches Gras!, op.35 no.2; Du lieblicher Stern, op.79 no.1; Du meine Seele, du mein Herz, op.25 no.1; Du nennst mich armes Mädchen, op.104 no.3
Dunkler Lichtglanz, op.138 no.10; Durch die Tannen und die Linden, op.89 no.3; Du Ring an meinem Finger, op.42 no.4; Eia, wie flattert der Kranz, op.78 no.1; Ein Gedanke, 1840
Eingeschlafen auf der Lauer, op.39 no.7; Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen, op.48 no.11; Einsamkeit, op.90 no.5; Ein scheckiges Pferd, ?1845
Entflieh mit mir und sei mein Weib, op.64 no.3; Er, der Herrlichste von allen, op.42 no.2; Erinnerung, 1828
Er ist’s, op.79 no.23; Erste Begegnung, op.74 no.1; Erstes Grün, op.35 no.4
Er und Sie, op.78 no.2; Es fiel ein Reif in der Frühlingsnacht, op.64 no.3; Es fliegen zwei Schwalben, op.79 no.20; Es flüstern und rauschen die Wogen, op.53 no.2; Es flüstert’s der Himmel, op.25 no.16; Es geht bei gedämpfte Trommel Klang, op.40 no.3; Es geht der Tag zur Neige, op.119 no.2; Es gingen drei Jäger, 1848
Es grünet ein Nussbaum vor dem Haus, op.25 no.3; Es ist schon spät, op.39 no.3; Es ist so still geworden, op.107 no.6; Es ist so süss zu scherzen, op.30 no.3; Es ist verraten, op.74 no.5; Es leuchtet meine Liebe, op.127 no.3
Es rauschen die Wipfel und schauern, op.39 no.6; Es stürmet am Abendhimmel, op.89 no.1; Es treibt mich hin, op.24 no.2; Es war, als hätt der Himmel die Erde still gekusst, op.39 no.5; Es war ein Kind, op.79 no.17; Es weiss und rät es doch keiner, op.39 no.4; Es zog eine Hochzeit den Berg entlang, op.39 no.11; Es zogen zwei rüst’ge Gesellen, op.45 no.2; Familiengemälde, op.34 no.4; Fein Rösslein, ich beschlage dich, op.90 no.1; Flügel! Flügel! um zu fliegen, op.37 no.8; Flutenreicher Ebro, op.138 no.5
Frage, op.35 no.9; Frauenliebe und -leben, op.42; Freisinn, op.24 no.2; Frühling lässt sein blaues Band, op.79 no.23; Frühlings Ankunft, op.79 no.19; Frühlingsbotschaft, op.79 no.3; Frühlingsfahrt, op.45 no.2; Frühlingsgruss, op.79 no.4; Frühlingsgrüsse, 1851
Frühlingslied, op.79 no.18; Frühlingslied, op.103 no.2; Frühlingslied, op.125 no.4; Frühlingslust, op.125 no.5; Frühlingsnacht, op.39 no.12; Früh wann die Hähne krahn, op.64 no.2; Gebet, op.135 no.5; Gedichte die Königin Maria Stuart, op.135; Geisternähe, op.77 no.3; Gekämpft hat meine Barke, op.104 no.7; Gern mach’ ich dir, 1852
Gesanges Erwachen, 1828
Geständnis, op.74 no.7; Gesungen, op.96 no.4; Glockentürmers Töchterlein, after op.142; Glück der Engel!, 1828
Gottes ist der Orient, op.25 no.8; Grossvater und Grossmutter, op.34 no.4; Grün ist der Jasminenstrauch, op.27 no.4; Hauptmanns Weib, op.25 no.19; Heimliches Verschwinden, op.89 no.2; Heiss mich nicht reden, op.98a no.5; Helft mir, ihr Schwestern, op.42 no.5; Helle Silberglöcklein klingen, op.125 no.1; Herbstlied, op.43 no.2; Herbstlied, op.89 no.3; Herr Jesu Christ, op.135 no.2
Herzeleid, op.107 no.1; Hier in diesen erdbeklommnen Lüften, op.25 no.26; Himmel und Erde, op.96 no.5; Hinaus ins Freie, op.79 no.11; Hirtenknabe, 1828
Hoch, hoch sind die Berge, op.138 no.8; Hochländers Abschied, op.25 no.13; Hochländisches Wiegenlied, op.25 no.14; Hoch zu Pferd, op.25 no.19; Hör ich das Liedchen klingen, op.48 no.10; Hörst du den Vogel singen?, op.35 no.12; Hört ihr im Laube des Regens, op.96 no.4; Husarenabzug, op.125 no.2; Ich armes Käuzlein kleine, op.79 no.10; Ich armes Käuzlein kleine, after op.142
Ich bin dein Baum, op.101 no.3; Ich bin der Kontrabandiste, op.74 no.10; Ich bin die Blum’ in Garten, op.83 no.2; Ich bin ein lust’ger Geselle, op.30 no.1; Ich bin gekommen ins Niederland, op.25 no.10; Ich bin geliebt, op.74 no.9; Ich bin hinaus gegangen, op.43 no.3; Ich bin im Mai gegangen, 1828
Ich bin vom Berg der Hirtenknab, op.79 no.8; Ich blick in mein Herz, op.51 no.1; Ich denke dein, op.78 no.3; Ich grolle nicht, op.48 no.7; Ich hab im Traum geweinet, op.48 no.13; Ich hab in mich gesogen, op.37 no.5; Ich hab mein Weib allein, op.25 no.22
Ich hör die Bächlein rauschen, op.39 no.8; Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben, op.42 no.3; Ich kann wohl manchmal singen, op.39 no.9; Ich sah dich weinen, 1827
Ich schau über Forth hinüber, op.25 no.23; Ich sende einen Gruss, op.25 no.25; Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen, op.24 no.3; Ich wandre nicht, op.51 no.3; Ich will meine Seele tauchen, op.48 no.5; Ich zieh dahin, op.135 no.1; Ich zieh so allein in den Wald hinein, op.107 no.5; Ihre Stimme, op.96 no.3; Ihr Matten, lebt wohl, ihr sonnigen Weiden, op.79 no.22
Im Garten steht die Nonne, op.49 no.3; Im Herbste, 1828
Im Kreise der Vasallen, op.106; Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome, op.48 no.6; Im Schatten des Waldes, op.29 no.3; Im Städtchen gibt es des Jubels viel, op.40 no.4; Im Wald, op.107 no.5; Im Walde, op.39 no.11; Im Wald, in grüner Runde, op.119 no.1; Im Westen, op.25 no.23; Im wunderschönen Monat Mai, op.48 no.1; In den Talen der Provence, op.139 no.4; In der Fremde, op.39 no.1; In der Fremde, op.39 no.8; In der hohen Hall sass König Sifrid, op.139 no.7; In der Nacht, op.74 no.4
In einsamen Stunden drängt Wehmut sich auf, op.77 no.4; In meinem Garten die Nelken, op.29 no.2; In meiner Brust, op.53 no.3; Ins Freie, op.89 no.5; Intermezzo, op.39 no.2; Intermezzo, op.74 no.2; Jasminenstrauch, op.27 no.4; Jeden Morgen, in der Frühe, op.79 no.7; Jemand, op.25 no.4; Jung Volkers Lied, op.125 no.3; Kennst du das Land, op.79 no.28; Kennst du das Land, op.98a no.1; Kinderwacht, op.79 no.21; Klage, 1828
Kleine Tropfen, seid ihr Tränen, op.142 no.3; Kommen und Scheiden, op.90 no.3
Komm in die stille Nacht, op.36 no.2; Komm, lieber Mai, op.79 no.9; Komm, Trost der Welt, op.83 no.3; Kommt, wir wollen uns begeben, op.79 no.5; Könnt ich dich in Liedern preisen, op.35 no.8; Könnt’ ich einmal wieder singen, 1828
Kuckuck, Kuckuck ruft aus dem Wald, op.79 no.3; Kurzes Erwachen, 1828
Ländliches Lied, op.29 no.1; Lange harrt ich, 1828
Lass mich ihm am Busen hangen, op.25 no.12; Lass tief in dir mich lesen, op.96 no.3; Lasst mich nur auf meinem Sattel gelten, op.25 no.2; Lehn deine Wang, op.142 no.2; Leicht wie gaukelnde Sylphiden, 1827
Leis rudern hier, op.25 no.17
Lieben, von ganzer Seele lieben, op.83 no.1; Liebesbotschaft, op.36 no.6; Liebesgarten, op.34 no.1; Liebesgram, op.74 no.3; Liebeslied, op.51 no.5; Liebhabers Ständchen, op.34 no.2; Lieb’ Liebchen, op.24 no.4; Liebster, deine Worte stehlen, op.101 no.2; Liebste was kann denn uns scheiden?, op.37 no.6; Lied, op.29 no.2; Liedchen von Marie und Papa, 1852
Lied der Suleika, op.25 no.9; Lied eines Schmiedes, op.90 no.1; Lieder-Album für die Jugend, op.79; Lieder aus dem Schenkenbuch im Divan I, op.25 no.5; Lieder aus dem Schenkenbuch im Divan II, op.25 no.6; Lieder der Braut aus dem Liebesfrühling I, op.25 no.11; Lieder der Braut aus dem Liebesfrühling II, op.25 no.12; Liederkreis, op.24; Liederkreis, op.39
Lied für xxx, 1827
Lied Lynceus des Türmers, op.79 no.27; Loreley, op.53 no.2; Lust der Sturmnacht, op.35 no.1; Mädchenlieder, op.103; Mädchen-Schwermut, op.143 no.3; Mailied, op.79 no.9; Mailied, op.103 no.1; Mailied, after op.142; Marienwürmchen, op.79 no.13; Marienwürmchen, setze dich, op.79 no.1; Märzveilchen, op.40 no.1; Maultreiberlied, 1838
Mein altes Ross, op.127 no.4; Mein Aug ist trüb, op.27 no.3; Meine Rose, op.90 no.2
Meine Töne still und heiter, op.101 no.1; Mein Garten, op.77 no.2; Mein Herz ist betrübt, op.25 no.4; Mein Herz ist im Hochland, op.25 no.13; Mein Herz ist schwer, op.25 no.15; Mein hochgebornes Schätzelein, after op.142; Mein schöner Stern, op.101 no.4; Mein Wagen rollet langsam, op.142 no.4; Melancholie, op.74 no.6; Mignon, op.79 no.28; Minnespiel, op.101; Mir ist’s so eng allüberall!, op.89 no.5; Mit dem Pfeil, dem Bogen, op.79 no.25; Mit der Myrte geschmückt, op.31 no.1; Mit Myrten und Rosen, op.24 no.9; Mögen alle bösen Zungen, op.74 no.9; Mond, meiner Seele Liebling, op.104 no.1
Mondnacht, op.39 no.5; Morgens steh’ ich auf und frage, op.24 no.1; Mutter, Mutter glaube nicht, op.25 no.11; Muttertraum, op.40 no.2; Myrthen, op.25; Nach der Geburt ihres Sohnes, op.135 no.2; Nach diesen trüben Tagen, op.79 no.19; Nach Frankreich zogen zwei Grenadier’, op.49 no.1; Nach Langem Frost, 1851
Nachtlied, op.96 no.1; Nachts um die zwölfte Stunde, 1840
Nachts zu unbekannter Stunde, op.89 no.2; Nänie, op.114 no.1; Nelken wind ich und Jasmin, op.74 no.8; Nicht im Tale, 1828
Nicht so schnelle, op.77 no.5
Nichts Schöneres, op.36 no.3; Niemand, op.25 no.22; Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan, op.42 no.8; Nun scheidet vom sterbenden Walde, op.89 no.4; Nun stehen die Rosen in Blüte, op.125 no.5; Nur ein Gedanke, op.135 no.3; Nur ein lächelnder Blick, op.27 no.5; Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt, op.98a no.3; Oben auf des Berges Spitze, op.49 no.2; O blicke, wenn den Sinn dir will die Welt, op.114 no.3; O Freund, mein Schinn, mein Schutz, op.101 no.6; O Gott, mein Gebieter, op.135 no.5
O ihr Herren, op.37 no.3; O Schmetterling, sprich, op.79 no.2; O Sonnenschein!, op.36 no.4; O Sonn, o Meer, o Rose, op.37 no.10; O wie lieblich ist das Mädchen, op.138 no.3; Patriotisches Lied, 1840
Pflücket Rosen, um das Haar schön, op.103 no.1; Provenzalisches Lied, op.139 no.4; Rätsel, op.25 no.16; Reich mir die Hand, o Wolke, op.104 no.5; Requiem, op.90 no.7; Resignation, op.83 no.1; Rose, Meer und Sonne, op.37 no.9; Röselein, Röselein!, op.89 no.6; Ruh von schmerzensreichen Mühen aus, op.90 no.7
Sag an, o lieber Vogel mein, op.27 no.1; Sängers Trost, op.127 no.1; Schlafe süsser kleiner Donald, op.25 no.14; Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf, op.78 no.4; Schlaflose Sonne, melanchol’scher Stern!, op.95 no.2; Schlief die Mutter endlich ein, op.31 no.2; Schlusslied des Narren, op.127 no.5; Schmetterling, op.79 no.2; Schneeglöckchen, op.79 no.26; Schneeglöckchen, op.96 no.2; Schneeglöckchen klingen wieder, op.79 no.18; Schön Blümelein, op.43 no.3; Schöne Fremde, op.39 no.6; Schöne Sennin, noch einmal singe, op.90 no.4
Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden, op.24 no.5; Schön Hedwig, op.106; Schön ist das Fest des Lenzes, op.37 no.7; Schön ist das Fest des Lenzes, op.101 no.5; Schweb empor am Himmel, op.103 no.4; Seh ich in das stille Tal, op.78 no.2; Sehnsucht, 1827
Sehnsucht, op.51 no.1; Sehnsucht nach der Waldgegend, op.35 no.5; Seit ich ihn gesehen, op.42 no.1; Senkt die Nacht den sanften Fittig nieder, op.114 no.2; Setze mir nicht, op.25 no.6; Sie schlingt um meinen Nacken, 1840
Sie sollen ihn nicht haben, 1840
Singet nicht in Trauertönen, op.98a no.7; Sitz ich allein, op.25 no.5
So lasst mich scheinen, op.98a no.9; Soldatenlied, ?1845
Sommerruh, wie schön bist du, 1849
Sonntag, op.79 no.6; Sonntags am Rhein, op.36 no.1; So oft sie kam, op.90 no.3; So sei gegrüsst vieltausendmal, op.79 no.4; So wahr die Sonne scheinet, op.37 no.12; So wahr die Sonne scheinet, op.101 no.8; Spähend nach dem Eisengitter, op.53 no.1; Spanische Liebeslieder, op.138; Spanisches Liederspiel, op.74; Spinnelied, op.79 no.24; Spinn, spinn, op.79 no.24; Spruch, op.114 no.3; Ständchen, op.36 no.2; Sterne der blauen himmlischen Auen, 1827
Stille Liebe, op.35 no.8; Stille Thränen, op.35 no.10; Stiller Vorwurf, op.77 no.4
Stirb, Lieb und Freud!, op.35 no.2; Süsser Freund, du blickest, op.42 no.6; Talismane, op.25 no.8; Tanzlied, op.78 no.1; Tief im Herzen trag ich Pein, op.138 no.2; Tragödie, op.64 no.3; Triolett, op.114 no.2; Trost im Gesang, op.142 no.1; Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh, op.96 no.1; Überm Garten durch die Lüfte, op.39 no.12; Und als ich ein winzig Bübchen war’, op.127 no.5; Und die mich trug im Mutterarm, op.125 no.3; Und schläfst du, mein Mädchen, auf, op.74 no.2
Und wenn die Primel schneeweiss blickt, op.29 no.1; Und wieder hatt ich der Schönsten gedacht, op.36 no.5; Und wüssten’s die Blumen, die kleinen, op.48 no.8; Unter den roten Blumen schlummere, op.114 no.1; Unter die Soldaten, op.79 no.7; Unterm Fenster, op.34 no.3; Veilchen, Rosmarin, Mimosen, op.77 no.2; Verratene Liebe, op.40 no.5; Verwandlung, 1827
Viel Glück zur Reise, Schwalben, op.104 no.2; Vier Husarenlieder, op.117; Vöglein vom Zweig, op.79 no.15; Volksliedchen, op.51 no.2; Vom Reitersmann, after 1828
Vom Schlaraffenland, op.79 no.5
Von dem Rosenbusch, op.74 no.1; Vor seinem Löwengarten, op.87; Wachst du noch, Liebchen, Gruss und Kuss!, op.34 no.2; Waldsgespräch, op.39 no.3; Wanderlust, op.35 no.3; Wanderung, op.35 no.7; Wann, wann erscheint der Morgen, op.74 no.6; Wär ich nie aus euch gegangen, op.35 no.5; Warnung, op.119 no.2; Wärst du nicht, heil’ger Abendschein!, op.35 no.9; Warte, warte, wilder Schiffmann, op.24 no.6; Warum soll ich denn wandern, op.51 no.3; Was hör ich draussen vor dem Thor, op.98a no.2; Was nützt die mir noch zugermess’ne Zeit?, op.135 no.4; Was soll ich sagen?, op.27 no.3
Was weht um meine Schläfe, op.77 no.3; Was will die einsame Träne?, op.25 no.21; Wehmut, op.39 no.9; Weh, wie zornig ist das Mädchen, op.138 no.7; Weihnachtslied, op.79 no.16; Weint auch einst kein Liebchen, op.127 no.1; Weit, weit, op.25 no.20; Wem Gott will rechte Gunst erweisen, op.77 no.1; Wenn alle Wälder schliefen, op.45 no.1; Wenn der Winter sonst entschwand, 1827
Wenn durch Berg und Tale, op.35 no.1; Wenn durch die Piazzetta, op.25 no.18; Wenn fromme Kindlein schlafen gehn, op.79 no.21; Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär, op.43 no.1; Wenn ich früh in den Garten geh, op.51 no.2; Wenn ich in deine Augen seh, op.48 no.4; Wer ist vor meiner Kammertür?, op.34 no.3; Wer machte dich so krank?, op.35 no.11; Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen ass, op.98a no.4; Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt, op.98a no.6; Widmung, op.25 no.1; Wie blüht es im Tale, op.79 no.11; Wie der Bäume kühne Wipfel, op.96 no.5; Wiegenlied, op.7 no.4
Wie kann ich froh, op.25 no.20; Wie mit innigstem Behagen, op.25 no.9; Wild verwachs’ne dunkle Fichten, op.90 no.5; Wir sassen am Fischerhause, op.45 no.3; Wir sind ja, Kind, im Maie, op.104 no.4; Wohlauf! noch getrunken den funkelnden Wein, op.35 no.3; Wohlauf und frisch gewandert, op.35 no.7; Wolken, die ihr nach Osten eilt, op.36 no.6; Zieh’ nur du Sonne, 1828
Zigeunerleben, op.29 no.3; Zigeunerliedchen, op.79 no.7; Zu Augsburg steht ein hohes Haus, op.35 no.2
Zum Schluss, op.25 no.26; Zum Sehen geboren, op.79 no.27; Zur Schmiede ging ein junger Held, 1848
Zwei feine Stieflein hab ich an, op.79 no.12; Zwei Venetianische Lieder I, op.25 no.17; Zwei Venetianische Lieder II, op.25 no.18; Zwielicht, op.39 no.10
for solo piano unless otherwise stated
Arrangement of Georg Christoph Grosheim, Titania Ov.
8 polonaises, pf 4 hands
some material used in Papillons, op.2c; orig. op.3
Variations on a theme of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, pf 4 hands
only fragment survives
some material used in Papillons, op.2
Thème sur le nom Abegg varié pour le pianoforte
also sketches for version with orch
Variations on a theme of Weber
on the Zigeusermarsch from Preziosa
Andante with variations on an orig. theme, G
inscribed ’Mit Gott’, some material used in op.124 no.2
Valse per F. Wieck
1st movt and Adagio only
Prelude and fugue
includes some material from the 4-hand polonaises, 1828 and some used also in 6 Walzer, 1829–30
6 Etudes pour le pianoforte d’après les caprices de Paganini
orig. op.3 and entitled Pièces phantastiques
on a theme of Henri Herz; frags. only
later used in op.11
orig. op.5; lost
12 Burlesken (Burle)
?some later used in op.124
Movt in B♭
Fugal piece, b♭ [one of many]
Canon on Au Alexis send’ Ich Dich
probably intended as finale of op.5
5 short pieces:
1, 4 and 5 unfinished
Sehnsuchtswalzer Variationen: scènes musicales sur un thème connu
also entitled Scènes mignonnes and Scènes musicales sur un thème connu de Fr. Schubert; opening used as opening of Carnaval, op.9
 Etüden in Form freier Variationen über ein Beethovensches Thema
Allegretto of Beethoven’s Symphony no.7; 3 versions; no.5 from 2nd version pubd as op.124 no.2
 Impromptus sur une romance de Clara Wieck
last no. incl. material from finale of Symphony, g, 1832–3; 2nd version of 1850 omits 2 variations but introduces a new variation, no.3; orig. op.8
Variations sur un nocturne de Chopin
Chopin’s op.15 no.3, g; frag., breaks off in 5th variation
Sonata movt, B♭
Sonata no.4, f
Davidsbündlertänze: 18 character-pieces
title in 2nd edn. (1850–51) Die Davidsbündler
orig. op.6; orig. title Etude fantastique en double-sons; 2 versions
1st movt of projected sonata
Carnaval: scènes mignonnes sur quatre notes:
orig. title Fasching: Schwänke auf vier Noten für Pianoforte von Florestan, op.12
1 Préambule, 2 Pierrot, 3 Arlequin, 4 Valse noble, 5 Eusebius, 6 Florestan, 7 Coquette, 8 Réplique, Sphinxes, 9 Papillons, 10 ASCH–SCHA (Lettres dansantes), 11 Chiarina, 12 Chopin, 13 Estrella, 14 Reconnaissance, 15 Pantalon et Colombine, 16 Valse allemande, 17 Intermezzo: Paganini, 18 Aveu, 19 Promenade, 20 Pause, 21 Marche des Davidsbündler contres les Philistins
6 Etudes de concert … d’après des caprices de Paganini
orig. title Capricen für das Pianoforte, auf dem Grund der Violinstimme von Paganini zu Studien frei bearbeitet
Sonata no.1, f♯
on title-page ’Pianoforte-Sonata, Clara zugeignet von Florestan und Eusebius’
orig. title Phantasien; no.7 composed not later than 1832
1 Des Abends, 2 Aufschwung, 3 Warum?, 4 Grillen, 5 In der Nacht, 6 Fabel, 7 Traumes Wirren, 8 Ende vom Lied
omitted from op.12
12 Etudes symphoniques
orig. title Etüden im Orchestercharakter für Pianoforte von Florestan und Eusebius; 2nd version (1852) entitled Etudes en formes de variations; 5 extra variations pubd in 1873 and incl. in SW xiv, 40; variation unpubd
Concert sans orchestre, f
3 movts of orig. 5 pubd 1836; rev. and pubd 1853 as Grande Sonate with 1 scherzo restored
rejected movt of op.14
omitted from 3rd movt of op.14
Kinderscenen: Leichte Stücke für das Pianoforte
1 Von fremden Ländern und Menschen, 2 Curiose Geschichte, 3 Hasche-Mann, 4 Bittendes Kind, 5 Glückes genug, 6 Wichtige Begebenheit, 7 Träumerei, 8 Am Camin, 9 Ritter vom Steckenpferd, 10 Fast zu ernst, 11 Fürchtenmachen, 12 Kind im Einschlummern, 13 Der Dichter spricht
Kreisleriana:  Fantasien
orig. title Obolen auf Beethovens Monument: Ruinen, Trophäen, Palmen: grosse Sonate für das Pianoforte, für Beethovens Monument, von Florestan und Eusebius, op.12; also entitled Dichtungen: Ruinen, Siegesbogen, Sternbild; 1st movt orig. planned as independent fantasy entitled Ruines
orig. title Grosse Humoreske
Sonata no.2, g
new finale composed 1838
rejected finale of op.22
Nachtstücke: 4 pieces
Schumann envisaged the titles: 1 Trauerzug, 2 Kuriose Gesellschaft, 3 Nächtliches Gelage, 4 Rundgesang mit Solostimmen
Faschingsschwank aus Wien:
no.4 pubd separately Dec 1839
1 Allegro, 2 Romanze, 3 Scherzino, 4 Intermezzo, 5 Finale
Drei Romanzen, b♭, F♯, B
1 Scherzo, 2 Gigue, 3 Romanze, 4 Fughette
Andante and variations, B♭, 2 pf
orig. with 2 vc, hn; see chamber music
Studien für den Pedal-Flügel: 6 pieces in canonic form, pedal pf/pf 3–4 hands
4 Skizzen für den Pedal-Flügel, pf 4 hands
Sechs Fugen über den Namen: Bach, org/pedal pf
Piece for harmonium, F
2 movts only
Bilder aus Osten: 6 impromptus, pf 4 hands
Album für die Jugend
orig. title Weihnachtsalbum; facs. of autograph (Leipzig, 1956); facs. of sketchbook (London, 1924), with 4 other pf pieces by Schumann, ed. L. Windesperger: Gukkuk im Versteck, Lagune in Venedig, Haschemann, waltz in G [orig. untitled]; Other pieces conceived during early stages of project, unpubd at that time: Ein Thema von Georg Friedrich Händel; Ein Stückchen von Johann Sebastian Bach; Ein Stückchen von Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart; Andante [theme of Beethoven, Piano Sonata op.109, third movt]; Eine berühmte Melodie von Ludwig van Beethoven; Ein Trinklied von Carl Maria von Weber; Ein Ländler von Franz Schubert; Für ganz Kleine; Linke Hand soll sich auch zeigen; Puppenschlafliedchen; Bärentanz; *** [12-bar piece in C]; Auf der Gondel; Rebus; untitled, 9-bar piece in E♭; untitled, 20-bar piece in A; untitled fragmentary fughetta in A; Canon; Aus ist der schmaus, die Gäste gehn nach Haus; all originally unpubd pieces ed. B.R. Appel: Robert Schumanns ‘Album für die Jugend’ (Zürich and Mainz, 1998), 301–21
Pt. 1, Für Kleinere: 1 Melodie, 2 Soldatenmarsch, 3 Trällerliedchen [orig. Kinderstückchen], 4 Ein Choral, Stückchen, 6 Armes Waisenkind [orig. Armes Bettlerkind], 7 Jägerliedchen, 8 Wilder Reiter, 9 Volksliedchen [orig. Volkslied], 10 Fröhlicher Landmann, von der Arbeit zurückkehrend, 11 Sizilianisch [orig. Zwei Sizilianische], 12 Knecht Ruprecht, 13 Mai, lieber Mai [orig. Mai, schöner mai], 14 Kleine Studie, 15 Frühlingsgesang, 16 Erster Verlust [orig. Kinderunglück], 17 Kleiner Morgenwanderer, 18 Schnitterliedchen
Pt. 2, Für Erwachsenere: 19 Kleine Romanze, 20 Landliches Lied, 21***, 22 Rundgesang, 23 Reiterstück, 24 Ernteliedchen, 25 Nachklänge aus dem Theater, 26 ***, 27 Canonisches Liedchen [orig. Canon], 28 Erinnerung [orig. Erinnerung an Mendelssohn], 29 Fremder Mann, 30 ***, 31 Kriegslied, 32 Sheherazade, 33 Weinlesezeit – fröhliche Zeit!, 34 Thema, 35 Mignon, 36 Lied italienischer Marinari [orig. Schifferlied], 37 Matrosenlied, 38 Winterszeit I, 39 Winterszeit II, 40 Kleine Fuge, 41 Nordisches Lied (Gruss an G), 42 Figurierter Choral, 43 Sylversterlied [orig. Zum Schluss]
Vier Fugen, d, d, f, F
4 marches, E♭, g, B♭ (Lager-Scene), E♭
1 Eintritt, 2 Jäger auf der Lauer [orig. Jägersmann auf der Lauer], 3 Einsame Blumen, 4 Verrufene Stelle [orig. Verrufener Ort], 5 Freundliche Landschaft [orig. Freier Ausblick], 6 Herberge [orig. Jägerhaus], 7 Vogel als Prophet, 8 Jagdlied, 9 Abschied
12 vierhändige Clavierstücke für kleine und grosse Kinder:
orig. title, with op.124, Spreu; no.2 from sketches in op.68; no.3 orig. title Gartenlied
1 Geburtstagsmarsch, 2 Bärentanz, 3 Gartenmelodie, 4 Beim Kränzewinden, 5 Kroatenmarsch, 6 Trauer, 7 Turniermarsch, 8 Reigen, 9 Am Springbrunnen, 10 Versteckens, 11 Gespenstermärchen, 12 Abendlied
1: MS inscribed ‘An meine geliebte Braut zum heiligen Abend 1838’; 3: orig. title Jagdstück; 13: orig. intended for symphony in c, 1841; 14: orig. intended for op.76
theme used by Brahms for Variations op.9
orig. title Fata Morgana
rejected from Carnaval, op.9
orig. title Jugendschmerz
Ballscenen, pf 4 hands:
orig. title Kinderball; no.2 composed 1849
1 Préambule, 2 Polonaise, 3 Walzer, 4 Ungarisch, 5 Française, 6 Mazurka, 7 Ecossaise, 8 Walzer, 9 Promenade
Drei Fantasiestücke, c, A♭, c
orig. title Romanzen oder Phantasiestücke
Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend, G, D, C
orig. title, with op.99, Spreu; nos. 1, 3, 12, 15 perhaps among the 12 Burlesken offered to Breitkopf & Härtel in 1832
1 Impromptu (1832), 2 Leides Ahnung (1832), 3 Scherzino (1832), 4 Walzer (1835), 5 Phantasietanz (1836), 6 Wiegenliedchen (1843), 7 Ländler (1836), 8 Lied ohne Ende (1837), 9 Impromptu (1838), 10 Walzer (1838), 11 Romanze (1835), 12 Burla (1832), 13 Larghetto (1832), 14 Vision (1838), 15 Walzer (1832), 16 Schlummerlied (1841), 17 Elfe (1835) [orig. intended for op.9], 18 Botschaft (1838), 19 Phantasiestück (1839), 20 Canon (1845)
Sieben Clavierstücke in Fughettenform
Kinderball, pf 4 hands:
1 Polonaise, 2 Walzer, 3 Menuett, 4 Ecossaise, 5 Française, 6 Ringelreihe
5 Gesänge der Frühe
MS inscribed ‘An Diotima’
theme used by Brahms for Variations for pf duet op.23; see also below, variations on an original theme, woo24
Variations on an original theme
Pf arr. Of J. Loachim’s ov. Heinrich IV
A Catalogues. B Bibliographies. C Genealogies. D Iconography. E Diaries. F Letters. G Writings and aesthetics. H Documentary studies and compilations. I General studies, collections of essays. J Biography, memoirs. K Life and works. L Keyboard music. M Songs. N Other vocal music. O Orchestral works. P Chamber music. Q Late works. R Reception. S Other special studies.
- A. Dörffel : Thematisches Verzeichniss sämmtlicher im Druck erschienenen Werke Robert Schumanns (Leipzig, 1860, 4/1868/R)
- G. Eismann : ‘Nachweis der internationalen Standorte von Notenautographen Robert Schumanns’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 2 (Leipzig, 1966), 7–37
- K. Hofmann : Die Erstdrucke der Werke von Robert Schumann (Tutzing, 1979)
- K. Hofmann and S. Keil, eds.: Robert Schumann: thematisches Verzeichnis sämtlicher im Druck erschienenen musikalischen Werke (Hamburg, 1982)
- G. Abraham, ed.: Schumann: a Symposium (London, 1952/R), 301–8
- P. Mies : ‘Literatur um Robert Schumann: ein Beitrag zu seinem 100. Todestag’, Musikhandel, 7 (1956), 93–5
- F. Munte : Verzeichnis des deutschsprachigen Schrifttums über Robert Schumann 1856–1970 (Hamburg, 1972)
- A. Walker, ed.: Robert Schumann: the Man and his Music (London, 1972, 2/1976), 442–5
- W. Boetticher : ‘Das Erbe Robert Schumanns im jüngeren Schrifttum’, NZM, Jg.142 (1981), 248–51
- J. Liebscher : ‘Auswahlbibliographie’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 379–90 [special issue]
- E. Bienenfeld : ‘Die Stammtafel der Familie Robert Schumanns: Ahnen und Nachkommen eines Genies’, Archiv für Rassen- und Gesellschaftsbiologie, 26 (1932), 57–9
- G. Eismann : ‘Bemerkenswertes zur Genealogie Robert Schumanns’, Mf, 22 (1969), 61–4
- A. Walker : ‘Schumann’s Family Tree’, Robert Schumann: the Man and his Music (London, 1972, 2/1976), 418
- W. Gertler : Robert Schumann, 1810–1856; sein Leben in Bildern (Leipzig, 1936)
- G. Eismann : Robert Schumann: eine Biographie in Wort und Bild (Leipzig, 1956, enlarged 2/1964; Eng. trans., 1964)
- R. Petzold and E. Crass : Robert Schumann: sein Leben in Bildern (Leipzig, 1956)
- G. Eismann : ‘Das authentische Schumann-Bild’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 1 (Leipzig, 1961), 86–90
- P. Kast, ed.: Schumanns rheinische Jahre (Düsseldorf, 1981)
- R. Schumann : Tagebücher, i: 1827–1838, ed. G. Eismann (Leipzig, 1971, 2/1987); ii, 1836–1854, ed. G. Nauhaus (Leipzig, 1987; Eng. trans., excerpts, 1993, as The Marriage Diaries of Robert and Clara Schumann: from their Wedding Day through the Russia Trip); iii: Haushaltbücher (1837–56), ed. G. Nauhaus (Leipzig, 1982)
- G. Nauhaus : ‘Zur Edition der Haushaltbücher Robert Schumanns’, Schumann-Tage I: Karl-Marx-Stadt 1976, 26–33
- C. Schumann, ed.: Jugendbriefe von Robert Schumann (Leipzig, 1885, 4/1910; Eng. trans., 1888)
- F.G. Jansen, ed.: Robert Schumanns Briefe: neue Folge (Leipzig, 1886, 2/1904; Eng. trans., 1890)
- H. Erler : Robert Schumanns Leben: aus seinen Briefen geschildert (Berlin, 1887, 3/ 1927)
- J. Gensel : ‘Robert Schumanns Briefwechsel mit Henriette Voigt’, Die Grenzboten, 51 (1892), 269–77, 324–32, 368–75; enlarged offprint (Leipzig, 1892)
- E. Hanslick : ‘Robert Schumann in Endenich’, Die moderne Oper, viii: Am Ende des Jahrhunderts (1895–1899) (Berlin, 1899/R), 317–42
- F.G. Jansen : ‘Briefwechsel zwischen Robert Franz und Robert Schumann’, Die Musik, 8/1 (1908–9), 280–91, 346–59
- W. Boetticher : ‘Über die Unbekannte “Familienkassette” Robert und Clara Schumanns’, Scritti in onore di Luigi Ronga (Milan, 1973), 45–52
- W. Boetticher, ed.: Briefe und Gedichte aus dem Album Robert und Clara Schumanns (Leipzig, 1979)
- H.J. Ortheil, ed.: Robert und Clara Schumann: Briefe einer Liebe (Königstein, 1982)
- E. Weissweiler, ed.: Clara und Robert Schumann: Briefwechsel, kritische Gesamtausgabe (Frankfurt, 1984)
G: Writings and aesthetics
- R. Schumann : ‘Aus dem Leben eines Künstlers: Phantastische Symphonie in 5 Abtheilungen von Hector Berlioz’, NZM, 3 (1835), 1–51; Eng. trans. in E.T. Cone: Berlioz: Fantastic Symphony (New York, 1971), 220–48
- R. Schumann : Gesammelte Schriften über Musik und Musiker (Leipzig, 1854/R, 4/1891 /R, rev. 5/1914 by M. Kreisig; Eng. trans., 1877–80; new Eng. trans. [selection], 1946/R)
- F. Liszt : ‘Ein Kapitel zur Reform der musikalischen Kritik’, Gesammelte Schriften, ed. L. Ramann, 4 (Leipzig, 1882/R), 115–55
- P. Spitta : ‘Über Robert Schumanns Schriften’, Musikgeschichtliche Aufsätze (Berlin, 1894/R), 383–401
- A. Schmitz : ‘Die ästhetischen Anschauungen Robert Schumanns in ihren Beziehungen zur romantischen Literatur’, ZMw, 3 (1920–21), 111–18
- H. Kötz : Der Einfluss Jean Pauls auf Robert Schumann (Weimar, 1933)
- G. Eismann, ed. R. Schumann: Erinnerungen an Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy (Zwickau, 1947, enlarged 2/1948); repr. in Musik-Konzepte, nos. 14–15 (Munich, 1980), 97–122
- R.L. Jacobs : ‘Schumann and Jean Paul’, ML, 30 (1949), 250–58
- H. Homeyer : Grundbegriffe der Musikanschauung Robert Schumanns: ihre Wesen, ihr Bedeutung und Funktion in seinem literarischen Gesamtwerk (diss., U. of Münster, 1956)
- M. Elssner : Zum Problem des Verhältnisses von Musik und Wirklichkeit in den musikästhetischen Arbeiten der Schumann-Zeit (diss., U. of Halle, 1964)
- E.A. Lippman : ‘Theory and Practice in Schumann’s Aesthetics’, JAMS, 17 (1964), 310–45
- H. Pleasants, ed. and trans.: The Musical World of Robert Schumann: a Selection from his own Writings (London, 1965/R 1988 as Schumann on Music)
- K. Laux : ‘Was ist ein Musikschriftsteller? Carl Maria von Weber und Robert Schumann als Vorbild’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 2 (Leipzig, 1966), 38–57
- L.B. Plantinga : Schumann as Critic (New Haven, CT, 1967/R)
- T.A. Brown : The Aesthetics of Robert Schumann (New York, 1968/R)
- M. Schoppe, ed.: Robert Schumann: Selbstbiographische Notizen Faksimile (n.p. [E. Germany], 1977)
- B.R. Appel : ‘Schumanns Davidsbund: Geistes- und sozialgeschichtliche Voraussetzungen einer romantischer Idee’, AMw, 38 (1981), 1–23
- H. Eggebrecht : ‘Töne sind höhere Worte’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 105–15 [special issue]
- C. Floros : ‘Schumanns musikalische Poetik’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 90–104
- S. Kross : ‘Aus der Frühgeschichte von Robert Schumanns Neuer Zeitschrift für Musik’, Mf, 34 (1981), 423–45
- C. Floros : ‘Brahms der “Messias” und “Apostel”: zur Rezeptionsgeschichte des Artikels “Neue Bahnen”’, Mf, 36 (1983), 24–9
- L. Siegel : Music in German Romantic Literature: a Collection of Essays, Reviews and Stories (Novato, CA, 1983)
- F. Otto : Robert Schumann als Jean Paul-Leser (Frankfurt, 1984)
- L. Plantinga : ‘Schumann’s Critical Reaction to Mendelssohn’, Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on their Work and its Context, ed. J.W. Finson and R.L. Todd (Durham, NC, 1984), 11–19
- W. Kaden : ‘Zum Verhältnis von Musikästhetik und Musikkritik bei Robert Schumann’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 76–81
- M. Schoppe : ‘Robert Schumanns frühe Texte und Schriften’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 51–60
- A. Fowler : ‘Robert Schumann and the “Real” Davidsbündler’, College Music Symposium, 30/2 (1990), 19–27
- E. Lippman : A History of Western Musical Aesthetics (Lincoln, NE, and London, 1992)
- V.S. Sterk : Robert Schumann as Sonata Critic and Composer: the Sonata from Beethoven to 1844, as Reviewed by Schumann in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (diss., Stanford U., 1992)
- H. Kirchmeyer : Robert Schumanns Düsseldorfer Brahms-Aufsatz Neue Bahnen und die Ausbreitung der Wagnerschen Opern bis 1856 (Berlin, 1993)
H: Documentary studies and compilations
- A. Dörffel : Geschichte der Gewandhausconcerte zu Leipzig vom 25. November 1781 bis 25. November 1881 (Leipzig, 1884/R)
- W. Boetticher : Robert Schumann in seinen Schriften und Briefen (Berlin, 1942)
- G. Eismann : Robert Schumann: ein Quellenwerk über sein Leben und Schaffen (Leipzig, 1956)
- H.-J. Rothe : ‘Neue Dokumente zur Schumann-Forschung aus dem Leipziger Stadtarchiv’, GfMKB: Leipzig 1966, 318–21
- W. Boetticher : Robert Schumanns Klavierwerke: neue biographische und textkritische Untersuchungen, i: Opus 1–6 (Wilhelmshaven, 1976)
- R. Locke and J. Thym : ‘New Schumann Materials in Upstate New York: a First Report on the Dickinson Collection, with Catalogue of its Manuscript Holdings’, FAM, 27 (1980), 137–61
- W. Boetticher : ‘Weitere Forschungen an Dokumenten zum Leben und Schaffen Robert Schumanns’, Robert Schumann: ein romantisches Erbe in neuer Forschung – acht Studien, ed. Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, Düsseldorf (Mainz, 1984), 43–55
- G. Nauhaus : ‘Schumanns Lektürebüchlein ’, Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser, ed. B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer (Düsseldorf, 1991), 55–87
- M. Schoppe : ‘Schumanns Litterarischer Verein’, Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser, ed. B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer (Düsseldorf, 1991), 17–32
- F.H. Franken : ‘Robert Schumann in der Irrenanstalt Endenich’, Robert Schumanns letzte Lebensjahre: Protokoll einer Krankheit (Berlin, 1994), 7–24
- E. Burger and G. Nauhaus : Robert Schumann: eine Lebenschronik in Bildern und Dokumenten (Mainz, 1998)
- L. Hotaki : Robert Schumanns Mottosammlung: Übertragung, Kommentar, Einführung (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1998)
I: General studies, collections of essays
- E. Grieg : ‘Robert Schumann’, Nyt tidskrift, new ser., 2 (1893–4), 217; also in Century Magazine, xlvii (1893–4), 440–49
- W. Boetticher : Robert Schumann: Einführung in Persönlichkeit und Werk (Berlin, 1941)
- G. Abraham, ed.: Schumann: a Symposium (London, 1952/R)
- G. Knepler : ‘Robert Schumann’, Musikgeschichte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1961), 770–96
- A. Walker, ed.: Robert Schumann: the Man and his Music (London, 1972, 2/1976)
- J. Alf and J.A. Kruse, eds.: Robert Schumann, Universalgeist der Romantik: Beiträge zu seiner Persönlichkeit und seinem Werk (Düsseldorf, 1981)
- P. Kast, ed.: Schumanns rheinische Jahre (Düsseldorf, 1981)
- H.-K. Metzger and R. Riehn, eds.: Robert Schumann, 1–2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981–2) [special issues]
- A. Edler : Robert Schumann und seine Zeit (Laaber, 1982)
- Robert Schumann: ein romantisches Erbe in neuer Forschung – acht Studien, ed. Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, Düsseldorf (Mainz, 1984)
- J.W. Finson and R.L. Todd, eds.: Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on their Work and its Context (Durham, NC, 1984)
- G. Müller, ed.: Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985
- A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller, eds.: Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien (Mainz, 1987)
- Schumann in Düsseldorf: Düsseldorf 1988
- G. Dietel : ‘Eine neue poetische Zeit’: Musikanschauung und stilistische Tendenzen im Klavierwerk Robert Schumanns (Kassel, 1989)
- Schumann und seine Dichter: Düsseldorf 1991
- B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer, eds.: Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser (Düsseldorf, 1991)
- A. Mayeda : Robert Schumanns Weg zur Symphonie (Zürich, 1992)
- R.L. Todd, ed.: Schumann and his World (Princeton, NJ, 1994)
- C. Rosen : The Romantic Generation (Cambridge, MA, 1995)
J: Biography, memoirs
- F. Liszt : ‘Robert Schumann’ , Gesammelte Schriften, 4 (Leipzig, 1882), 103–85
- F. Brendel : ‘Schumanns Biographie von Wasielewski’, NZM, 47 (1858), 113–14, 125–8, 137–41, 157–60, 169–71, 181–6, 193–5
- W.J. von Wasielewski : Robert Schumann (Dresden, 1858, enlarged 4/ 1906/R; Eng. trans., 1871 /R)
- F. Richarz : ‘Robert Schumanns Krankheit’, AMZ, new ser., 8 (1873), 597–601
- R. Pohl : ‘Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann’, Deutsche Revue, 2 (1878), 169–81, 306–17; Eng. trans. in Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 233–67
- F.G. Jansen : Die Davidsbündler: aus Robert Schumann’s Sturm- und Drangperiode (Leipzig, 1883)
- W.J. von Wasielewski : Schumanniana (Bonn, 1883)
- A. Moser : Joseph Joachim: ein Lebensbild (Berlin, 1898, enlarged 4/1908; Eng. trans., 1900)
- B. Litzmann : Clara Schumann: ein Künstlerleben nach Tagebüchern und Briefen (Leipzig, 1902–8, 6–8/ 1923–5/R; Eng. trans., abridged, 1913/R)
- V. Joss : Der Musikpädagoge Wieck und seine Familie: mit besonderer Berücksichtigung seines Schwiegersohnes Robert Schumann (Dresden, 1902)
- P. Möbius : Über Robert Schumanns Krankheit (Halle, 1906)
- Johannes Joachim and A. Moser, eds.: Briefe von und an Joseph Joachim (Berlin, 1911–13; Eng. trans., abridged, 1914/R)
- M. Wieck : Aus dem Kreise Wieck-Schumann (Dresden, 1912, 2/1914)
- F. Nussbaum : Der Streit um Robert Schumanns Krankheit (diss., U. of Cologne, 1923)
- F. Niecks : Robert Schumann: a Supplementary and Corrective Biography (London, 1925/R)
- E. Schumann : Erinnerungen (Stuttgart, 1925; Eng. trans., 1927 /R)
- B. Litzmann, ed.: Clara Schumann-Johannes Brahms: Briefe aus den Jahren 1853–1896 (Leipzig, 1927; Eng. trans., 1927)
- E. Schumann : Robert Schumann: ein Lebensbild meines Vaters (Leipzig, 1931)
- H. Kleinebreil : Der kranke Schumann: Untersuchungen über Krankheit und Todesursache Robert Schumanns (diss., U. of Jena, 1943)
- G. Eismann : Robert Schumann: eine Biographie in Wort und Bild (Leipzig, 1956, enlarged 2/ 1964; Eng. trans., 1964)
- E. Flechsig : ‘Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann’, NZM, Jg.117 (1956), 392–6
- R. Stockhammer : ‘Robert Schumann in Wien’, ÖMz, 15 (1960), 177–81
- R. Heuberger : Erinnerungen an Johannes Brahms: Tagebuchnotizen aus den Jahren 1875 bis 1897, ed. K. Hofmann (Tutzing, 1971)
- E. Sams : ‘Schumann’s Hand Injury’, MT, 112 (1971), 1156–9; cxiii (1972), 456 only
- P. Ostwald : ‘Florestan, Eusebius, Clara, and Schumann’s Right Hand’, 19CM, 4 (1980–81), 17–31
- S. Kross : ‘Brahms und Schumann’, Brahms-Studien, 4 (Hamburg, 1981), 7–44
- N.B. Reich : Clara Schumann: the Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985)
- U. Rauchfleisch : Robert Schumann, Leben und Werk: eine Psychobiographie (Stuttgart, 1990)
- N.B. Reich : ‘Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms’, Brahms and his World, ed. W. Frisch (Princeton, NJ, 1990), 37–48
- E. Weissweiler : Clara Schumann (Hamburg, 1990)
- D. Hoffmann-Axthelm : Robert Schumann: ‘Glücklichsein und tiefe Einsamkeit’ (Stuttgart, 1994)
- F.H. Franken : ‘Robert Schumann in der Irrenanstalt in Bonn-Endenich: zum aufgefundenen ärtzlichen Verlaufsbericht 1854–1856 von Doktor Franz Richarz’, Brahms-Studien, 11 (1997), 107–20
- E.F. Jensen : ‘Schumann at Endenich: Buried Alive’, MT, 139/March (1998), 10–18; cxxxix/April, 14–23
K: Life and works
- Grove6 (G. Abraham, E. Sams)
- MGG1 (E. Lippman)
- W.J. von Wasielewski : Robert Schumann (Dresden, 1858, enlarged 2/1906; Eng. trans., 1871/R)
- P. Spitta : ‘Ein Lebensbild Robert Schumanns’, Sammlung musikalischer Vorträge, 4 (Leipzig, 1882), 1–102
- H. Reimann : Robert Schumanns Leben und Werke (Leipzig, 1887)
- H. Abert : Robert Schumann (Berlin, 1903, 4/1920)
- W. Dahms : Schumann (Berlin, 1916)
- M. Beaufils : Schumann (Paris, 1932)
- C. Valabrega : Schumann (Modena, 1934)
- W. Korte : Robert Schumann (Potsdam, 1937)
- E. Bücken : Robert Schumann (Cologne, 1940)
- R.H. Schauffler : Florestan: the Life and Work of Robert Schumann (New York, 1945/R)
- J. Chissell : Schumann (London, 1948, 2/1967)
- K.H. Wörner : Robert Schumann (Zürich, 1949)
- M. Brion : Schumann et l’âme romantique (Paris, 1954; Eng. trans., 1956)
- P. and W. Rehberg : Robert Schumann: sein Leben und sein Werk (Zürich, 1954)
- A. Boucourechliev : Schumann (Paris, 1957, 2/1983; Eng. trans., 1959/R)
- P.M. Young : Tragic Muse: the Life and Works of Robert Schumann (London, 1957, 2/ 1961)
- K. Laux : Robert Schumann (Leipzig, 1972)
- A. Walker : Schumann (London, 1976)
- D. Schnebel : ‘Rückungen–Ver-rückungen: Psychoanalytische Betrachtungen zu Schumanns Leben und Werk’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 4–90 [special issue]
- R. Taylor : Robert Schumann: his Life and Work (London, 1982)
- P. Ostwald : Schumann: the Inner Voices of a Musical Genius (Boston, 1985)
- P. Ostwald : ‘Leiden und Trauern im Leben und Werk Robert Schumanns’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 121–31
- J. Daverio : Robert Schumann: Herald of a ‘New Poetic Age’ (New York, 1997)
L: Keyboard music
- C. Kossmaly : ‘Ueber Robert Schumann’s Claviercompositionen’, AMZ, 46 (1844), 17–21, 33–7
- A. Dörffel : ‘Für Pianoforte: Robert Schumann, op.68, Album für die Jugend’, NZM, 30 (1849), 89–91
- F. Liszt : ‘Robert Schumanns Klavierkompositionen op.5, 11 und 14’, Gesammelte Schriften, 2/1, ed. L. Ramann (Leipzig, 1881/R), 99–107
- R. Hohenemser : ‘Formale Eigentümlichkeiten in Robert Schumanns Klaviermusik’, Festschrift zum 50. Geburtstag Adolf Sandberger (Munich, 1918), 21–50
- W. Gertler : Robert Schumann in seinen frühen Klavierwerken (Wolfenbüttel, 1931)
- R. Fiske : ‘A Schumann Mystery’, MT, 105 (1964), 574–8 [on Die Davidsbündlertänze, op.6]
- M. Beaufils : ‘Mythos und Maske bei Robert Schumann’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 2 (Leipzig, 1966), 66–76
- W. Boetticher : ‘Neue textkritische Forschungen an Robert Schumanns Klavierwerk’, AMw, 25 (1968), 46–76
- S. Walsh : ‘Schumann and the Organ’, MT, 111 (1970), 741–3
- C.S. Becker : A Study of Robert Schumann’s ‘Impromptus’, op.5: its Sources and a Critical Analysis of its Revisions (diss., Boston U., 1977)
- T.A. Brown : ‘Schumann’s Baroque Organ Compositions’, The Diapason, 68/5 (1977–8), 4–5, 20
- L.C. Roesner : ‘Schumann’s Revisions in the First Movement of the Piano Sonata in G minor, op.22’, 19CM, 1 (1977–8), 97–109
- R. Münster : ‘Die Beethoven-Etuden von Robert Schumann aus Anlass ihrer Erstausgabe’, Mf, 31 (1978), 53–6
- A. Walker : ‘Schumann, Liszt and the C major Fantasie, op.17: a Declining Relationship’, ML, 60 (1979), 156–65
- C. Dahlhaus : Die Musik des 19. Jahrhunderts (Wiesbaden, 1980; Eng. trans., 1989)
- G. Harwood : ‘Robert Schumann’s Sonata in F♯ minor: a Study of Creative Process and Romantic Inspiration’, CMc, no.29 (1980), 17–30
- C. Rosen : Sonata Forms (New York, 1980)
- K.J. Sachs : ‘Robert Schumanns Fugen über den Namen BACH (op.60)’, Johann Sebastian Bach und seine Ausstrahlung auf die nachfolgenden Jahrhunderte (Mainz, 1980), 151–75
- C.S. Becker : ‘A New Look at Schumann’s Impromptus’, MQ, 67 (1981), 568–86
- W. Gieseler : ‘Schumanns frühe Klavierwerke im Spiegel der literarischen Romantik’, Robert Schumann: Universalgeist der Romantik, ed. J. Alf and J.A. Kruse (Düsseldorf, 1981), 62–87
- R. Barthes : L’obvie et l’obtus (Paris, 1982; Eng. trans., 1985 /R, as The Responsibility of Forms)
- J.D. Peterson : ‘Schumann’s Fugues on B–A–C–H: a Secret Tribute’, The Diapason, 73/5 (1982), 12–13
- O. Neighbour : ‘Brahms and Schumann: two Opus Nines and Beyond’, 19CM, 7 (1983–4), 266–70
- E.F. Jensen : ‘A New Manuscript of Robert Schumann’s Waldszenen op.82’, JM, 3 (1984), 69–89
- I. Knechtges : Robert Schumann im Spiegel seiner späten Klavierwerke (Regensburg, 1985)
- B.R. Appel : ‘Ein produktives Missverständnis: Robert Schumanns ‘Kinderszenen’ op.15 in der Kritik Ludwig Rellstabs’, Mf, 40 (1987), 109–15
- J. Draheim : ‘Schumanns Jugendwerk: Acht Polonaisen op.III für Klavier zu 4 Händen’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 179–91
- B. Barry : ‘Image and Imagination in Schumann’s G-minor Sonata’, Journal of the Science and Practice of Music, 4 (1987–8), 57–73
- J. Daverio : ‘Schumann’s “Im Legendenton” and Friedrich Schlegel’s Arabeske ’, 19CM, 11 (1987–8), 150–63
- M. Waldura : ‘Zitate vokaler Frühgesänge in Schumanns “Gesänge der Frühe”: Überlegungen zur Deutung eines irritierenden Titels’, Schumann in Düsseldorf: Düsseldorf 1988, 37–53
- P. Jost : Robert Schumanns ‘Waldszenen’ op.82: zum Thema Wald in der romantischen Klaviermusik (Saarbrücken, 1989)
- P.M. Kaminsky : ‘Principles of Formal Structure in Schumann’s Early Piano Cycles’, Music Theory Spectrum, 11 (1989), 207–25
- J. Daverio : ‘Reading Schumann by Way of Jean Paul and his Contemporaries’, College Music Symposium, 30/2 (1990), 28–45
- P.M. Kaminsky : Aspects of Harmony, Rhythm and Form in Schumann’s ‘Papillons’, ‘Carnaval’ and ‘Davidsbündlertänze’ (diss., U. of Rochester, 1990)
- A. Newcomb : ‘Schumann and the Marketplace: from Butterflies to Hausmusik ’, Nineteenth-Century Piano Music, ed. R.L. Todd (New York, 1990), 258–315
- L.C. Roesner : ‘Schumann’s “Parallel” Forms’, 19CM, 14 (1990–91), 265–78
- A. Edler : ‘Aphoristik und Novellistik: Versuch über das Private in Schumanns Klaviermusik’, Musica Privata … Festschrift zum 65. Geburtstag von Walter Salmen, ed. M. Fink and others (Innsbruck, 1991), 201–14
- N. Marston : Schumann: Fantasie, op.17 (Cambridge, 1992)
- S. Münch : ‘“Fantasiestücke in Kreislers Manier”: Robert Schumanns “Kreisleriana” op.16 und die Musikanschauung E.T.A. Hoffmanns’, Mf, 45 (1992), 255–74
- N. Marston : ‘“Im Legendenton”: Schumann’s “Unsung Voice”’, 19CM, 16 (1992–3), 227–41
- H.J. Bracht : ‘Schumanns “Papillons” und die Ästhetik der Frühromantik’, AMw, 50 (1993), 71–84
- D. Crisp : ‘The Kreisleriana of Robert Schumann and E.T.A. Hoffmann: Some Musical and Literary Parallels’, Musicology Australia, 16 (1993), 3–18
- M. Geck : Von Beethoven bis Mahler: die Musik des deutschen Idealismus (Stuttgart and Weimar, 1993)
- J. Daverio : Nineteenth-Century Music and the German Romantic Ideology (New York, 1993)
- L. Kramer : ‘ Carnaval, Cross-Dressing, and the Woman in the Mirror’, Musicology and Difference: Gender and Sexuality in Music Scholarship, ed. R.A. Solie (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1993), 305–25
- B. Hoeckner : ‘Schumann and Romantic Distance’, JAMS, 1 (1997), 55–132
- B.R. Appel : Robert Schumanns ‘Album für die Jugend’ (Zürich and Mainz, 1998)
- S. Downes : ‘Kierkegaard, a Kiss, and Schumann’s Fantasie ’, 19CM, 22 (1998–9), 268–80
- E.F. Jensen : ‘Explicating Jean Paul: Robert Schumann’s Program for Papillons, op.2)’, 19CM, 22 (1998–9), 127–43
- M. Friedlaender : Textrevision zu Robert Schumanns Liedern (Leipzig, 1887)
- C. Spitz : ‘Schumann’s “Mary Stuart Songs”’, MMR, 67 (1937), 153–68
- T.W. Adorno : ‘Coda: Schumanns Lieder’, Noten zur Literatur, 1 (Berlin, 1958), 134–43; repr. in T.W. Adorno: Gesammelte Schriften, xi, ed. R. Tiedemann (Frankfurt, 1974; Eng. trans., 1991)
- E. Sams : ‘Schumann’s Year of Song’, MT, 106 (1965), 105–7
- E. Sams : The Songs of Robert Schumann (London, 1969, 3/1993)
- J.M. Stein : ‘Musical Settings of the Songs from Wilhelm Meister ’, Comparative Literature, 22 (1970), 125–46
- A. Komar, ed.: Schumann: Dichterliebe (New York, 1971)
- S. Walsh : The Lieder of Schumann (London, 1971)
- A. Desmond : Schumann Songs (London, 1972)
- H. Knaus : Musiksprache und Werkstruktur in Robert Schumanns ‘Liederkreis’ (Munich, 1974)
- J. Thym : The Solo Song Settings of Eichendorff’s Poems by Schumann and Wolf (diss., Case Western Reserve U., 1974)
- R.E. Hallmark : ‘The Sketches for Dichterliebe ’, 19CM, 1 (1977–8), 110–36
- R.E. Hallmark : The Genesis of Schumann’s ‘Dichterliebe’: a Source Study (Ann Arbor, 1979)
- D. Fischer-Dieskau : Robert Schumann, Wort und Musik: das Vokalwerk (Stuttgart, 1981; Eng. trans., 1988)
- W. Killmayer : ‘Schumann und seine Dichter’, NZM, Jg.142 (1981), 231–6
- B. Turchin : Robert Schumann’s Song Cycles in the Context of the Early Nineteenth-Century Liederkreis (diss., Columbia U., 1981)
- B. Turchin : ‘Schumann’s Conversion to Vocal Music: a Reconsideration’, MQ, 67 (1981), 392–404
- C. Henius : ‘Erfahrungen mit Schumanns Liederkreis – und mit Adorno’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 170–76 [special issue]
- D. Neumeyer : ‘Organic Structure and the Song Cycle: Another Look at Schumann’s Dichterliebe ’, Music Theory Spectrum, 4 (1982), 92–105
- H. Pousseur : ‘Schumann ist der Dichter: Fünfundzwanzig Momente einer Lektüre der Dichterliebe ’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 3–128 [special issue]
- U. Mahlert : Fortschritt und Kunstlied: Späte Lieder Robert Schumanns im Licht der liedästhetischen Diskussion ab 1848 (Munich and Salzburg, 1983)
- R. Hallmark : ‘Die handschriftlichen Quellen der Lieder Robert Schumanns’, Robert Schumann: ein romantisches Erbe in neuer Forschung – acht Studien, ed. Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, Düsseldorf (Mainz, 1984), 99–118
- L. Kramer : Music and Poetry: the Nineteenth Century and After (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1984)
- B. Turchin : ‘Robert Schumann’s Song Cycles: the Cycle within the Song’, 19CM, 8 (1984–5), 231–44
- P. McCreless : ‘Song Order in the Song Cycle: Schumann’s Liederkreis, op.39’, Music Analysis, 5 (1986), 5–28
- R. Hallmark : ‘Schumanns Behandlung seiner Liedtexte: Vorläufiger Bericht zu einer neuen Ausgabe und zu einer Neubewertung von Schumanns Liedern’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 29–42
- W. Rosenberg : ‘Paradox, Doppelbödigkeit und Ironie in der Dichterliebe ’, Dissonanz/Dissonance, no.15 (1988), 8–12
- K. Ozawa : Quellenstudien zu Robert Schumanns Liedern nach Adelbert von Chamisso (Frankfurt, 1989)
- C. Cacciopo : ‘Poem to Music: Schumann’s “Mondnacht” Setting’, College Music Symposium, 30 (1990), 46–56
- J.W. Finson : ‘Schumann’s Mature Style and the “Album of Songs for the Young”’, JM, 8 (1990), 227–50
- R. Hallmark : ‘The Rückert Lieder of Robert and Clara Schumann’, 19CM, 14 (1990–91), 3–30
- N. Marston : ‘Schumann’s Monument to Beethoven’, 19CM, 14 (1990–91), 247–64
- R. Hallmark : ‘Textkritische und aufführungspraktische Probleme in Schumanns Liedern’, Schumann und seine Dichter: Düsseldorf 1991, 110–21
- O. Lossewa : ‘Neues über Elisabeth Kulmann’, Schumann und seine Dichter: Düsseldorf 1991, 77–86
- D. Ferris : From Fragment to Cycle: Formal Organization in Schumann’s Eichendorff ‘Liederkreis’ (diss., Brandeis U., 1993)
- J.W. Finson : ‘The Intentional Tourist: Romantic Irony in the Eichendorff Liederkreis of Robert Schumann’, Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 156–70
- R. Brinkman : Schumann und Eichendorff: Studien zum ‘Liederkreis’ Opus 39, Musik-Konzepte, no.95 (1997)
N: Other vocal music
- E. Krüger : Review of Das Paradies und die Peri, op.50, AMZ, 47 (1845), 561–70, 585–9, 606–11, 617–22
- F. Brendel : ‘R. Schumann’s Oper: Genoveva’, NZM, 33 (1850), 1–4, 17–18
- E. Hanslick : ‘Robert Schumann als Opernkomponist’, Die moderne Oper, i: Kritiken und Studien (Berlin, 1875/R, 6/1911), 256–73
- P. von Waldersee : ‘Robert Schumann’s Manfred’, Sammlung musikalischer Vorträge, new ser., 2 (Leipzig, 1880), no.13, pp.3–20
- H. Abert : ‘Robert Schumann’s “Genoveva”’, ZIMG, 11 (1909–10), 277–81; repr. in Robert Schumann, ii, Musik-Konzepte (1982), 177–90 [special issue]
- D. Mintz : ‘Schumann as an Interpreter of Goethe’s Faust ’, JAMS, 14 (1961), 235–56
- H.C. Wolff : ‘Schumanns Genoveva und der Manierismus des 19. Jahrhunderts’, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Oper, ed. H. Becker (Regensburg, 1969), 89–94
- R. Sietz : ‘Zur Textgestaltung von Robert Schumanns “Genovefa”’, Mf, 23 (1970), 395–410
- E. Sams : ‘Schumann and Faust’, MT, 113 (1972), 543–6
- G. Probst : Robert Schumanns Oratorien (Wiesbaden, 1975)
- L. Siegel : ‘A Second Look at Schumann’s Genoveva ’, MR, 36 (1975), 17–41
- W. Oliver : Robert Schumanns vergessene Oper ‘Genoveva’ (diss., Freiburg U., 1976)
- W. Seyfarth : ‘Die unvollendeten “Faust-Szenen”: ein bedeutender Beitrag Robert Schumanns zu den Goethe-Gedächtnisfeiern im Jahre 1849’, Schumann-Tage I: Karl-Marx-Stadt 1976, 42–51
- M. Jarczyk : Die Chorballade im 19. Jahrhundert (Munich and Salzburg, 1978)
- L. Zanoncelli : ‘Von Byron zu Schumann oder die Metamorphose des “Manfred”’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 116–47 [special issue]
- G. Nauhaus : ‘Quellenuntersuchungen zu Schumanns “Das Paradies und die Peri”’, Robert-Schumann-Tage X: Zwickau 1995, 68–75
- G. Rienäcker : ‘Romantisches in Robert Schumanns “Genoveva”’, Robert-Schumann-Tage X: Zwickau 1995, 101–6
- G. Nauhaus : ‘Schumanns Das Paradies und die Peri: Quellen zur Entstehungs-, Aufführungs- und Rezeptionsgeschichte’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 133–48
- W. Best : Die Romanzen Robert Schumanns (Frankfurt, 1988)
- G. Nauhaus : ‘ Der Rose Pilgerfahrt, op.112: Schumanns Abschied vom Oratorium’, Schumann in Düsseldorf: Düsseldorf 1988, 179–200
- M. Demmler : ‘“Nicht zuviel Kreuze und Bee”: die Tendenz zum Populären in Schumanns späten Vokalwerk’, Musica, 43 (1989), 483–6
- S. Hoy-Draheim : ‘Robert Schumanns Opernpläne nach Dramen von William Shakespeare’, Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser, ed. B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer (Düsseldorf, 1991), 100–05
- J. Daverio : ‘Schumann’s “New Genre for the Concert Hall”: Das Paradies und die Peri in the Eyes of a Contemporary’, Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 129–55
- S. Meyer : ‘The Trope of the Double in Schumann’s Genoveva ’, Opera Journal, 27 (1994), 4–26
- K. Leven-keesen : Robert Schumanns ‘Szenen aus Goethes Faust’ (woo3): Studien zu Frühfassungen anhand des Autographs Wiede 11/3 (Berlin, 1996)
- J. Daverio : ‘Sounds without the Gate: Schumann and the Dresden Revolution’, Saggiatore Musicale, 4 (1997), 87–112
- J. Daverio : ‘Schumann’s Ossianic Manner’, 19CM, 21 (1997–8), 247–73
O: Orchestral works
- D.F. Tovey : Essays in Musical Analysis, 2, Symphonies (London, 1935/R), 45–62 [opp.38, 97, 120]
- D.F. Tovey : Essays in Musical Analysis, 3, Concertos (London, 1936/R), 182–9 [opp.54, 92, 129]
- G. Abraham : ‘The Three Scores of Schumann’s D minor Symphony’, MT, 81 (1940), 105–9
- G. Abraham : ‘On a Dull Overture [op.136] by Schumann’, MMR, 76 (1946), 238–41
- G. Abraham : ‘Schumann’s “Jugendsinfonie” in G minor’, MQ, 37 (1951), 45–60
- H. Husmann : ‘Schumann als Gestalter: die Einheit und Form in seinen Symphonien’, Musica, 10 (1956), 456–60
- A.G. Zlotnik : ‘Die beiden Fassungen von Schumanns D-moll Symphonie’, ÖMz, 21 (1966), 271–6
- M.R. Maniates : ‘The D minor Symphony of Robert Schumann’, Festschrift für Walter Wiora, ed. L. Finscher and C.-H. Mahling (Kassel, 1967), 441–7
- A. Gebhardt : Robert Schumann als Symphoniker (Regensburg, 1968)
- A.G. Zlotnik : Orchestration Revisions in the Symphonies of Robert Schumann (diss., Indiana U., 1972)
- M. Frager : ‘The Manuscript of the Schumann Piano Concerto’, CMc, no.15 (1973), 83–7
- S. Steinbeck : Die Ouvertüre in der Zeit von Beethoven bis Wagner: Probleme und Lösungen (Munich, 1973)
- L. Finscher : ‘“Zwischen absoluter und Programmusik”: zur Interpretation der deutschen romantischen Symphonie’, Über Symphonien: Beiträge zu einer musikalischen Gattung: Walter Wiora zum 70. Gebursstag, ed. C.-H. Mahling (Tutzing, 1979), 103–15
- H. Gal : Schumann Orchestral Music (Seattle, 1979)
- J.W. Finson : ‘The Sketches for Robert Schumann’s C minor Symphony’, JM, 1 (1982), 395–418
- P. Gülke : ‘Zur “Rheinischen Sinfonie”’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 237–53 [special issue]
- M. Just : Robert Schumann: Symphonie nr. 4 D-moll (Munich, 1982)
- R. Kapp : ‘Das Orchester Schumanns’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 191–236 [special issue]
- R. Kapp : ‘Robert Schumann: Sinfonie Nr. 4 d-moll op.120’, NZM, Jg.143/6–7 (1982), 54–6
- N.J. Schneider : Robert Schumann: 1. Symphonie B-dur op.38 (Munich, 1982)
- J.W. Finson : ‘Schumann, Popularity, and the Ouvertüre, Scherzo, und Finale, Opus 52’, MQ, 69 (1983), 1–26
- A. Newcomb : ‘Once more between Absolute and Program Music: Schumann’s Second Symphony’, 19CM, 7 (1983–4), 233–50
- R. Hallmark : ‘A Sketch Leaf for Schumann’s D-minor Symphony’, Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on their Work and its Context, ed. J.W. Finson and R.L. Todd (Durham, NC, 1984), 39–51
- W. Boetticher : ‘Das Entstehen von R. Schumanns Klavierkonzert: Textkritische Studien’, Festschrift Martin Ruhnke zum 65. Geburtstag (Stuttgart, 1986), 45–55
- W. Boetticher : ‘Die Frühfassung des ersten Satzes von Robert Schumanns Klavierkonzert op.54 und das Problem seiner Durchführung’, Festschrift Arno Forchert zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. G. Allroggen and D. Altenburg (Kassel, 1986), 216–21
- J.W. Finson : ‘The Sketches for the Fourth Movement of Schumann’s Second Symphony, Op.61’, JAMS, 39 (1986), 143–68
- A. Gerstmeier : Robert Schumann: Klavierkonzert A-moll, op.54 (Munich, 1986)
- C. Macdonald : Robert Schumann’s F-major Piano Concerto of 1831 as Reconstructed from his First Sketchbook: a History of its Composition and Study of its Musical Background (diss., U. of Chicago, 1986)
- E. Lichtenhahn : ‘Sinfonie als Dichtung: zum geschichtlichen Ort von Schumanns “Rheinischer”’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 17–27
- M. Struck : ‘“Gewichtsverlagerungen”: Robert Schumanns letzte Konzertcompositionen’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 43–52
- Probleme der Symphonischen Tradition im 19. Jahrhundert: Bonn 1989 [inc. A. Edler: ‘Ton und Zyklus in der Symphonik Schumanns’, 187–202; R. Dusella: ‘Symphonisches in den Skizzenbüchern Schumanns’, 203–24; M.L. Maintz ‘“… in neuverschlungener Weise”: Schuberts Einfluss auf die Symphonien Schumanns’, 225–38; M. Struck: ‘Am Rande der “grossen Form”: Schumanns Overtüren und ihr Verhältnis zur Symphonie’, 239–78; S. Oechsle: ‘Schubert, Schumann und die Symphonie nach Beethoven’, 279–94; L.C. Roesner: ‘Tonal Strategy and Poetic Content in Schumann’s C-major Symphony, op.61’, 295–306; G. Nauhaus: ‘Final-Lösungen in der Symphonik Schumanns’, 307–20]
- J.W. Finson : Robert Schumann and the Study of Orchestral Composition: the Genesis of the First Symphony, op.38 (Oxford, 1989)
- R. Emans and M. Wendt, eds.: Beiträge zur Geschichte des Konzerts: Festschrift Siegfried Kross (Bonn, 1990)
- M.L. Maintz : ‘Konzept statt Konzert: Schumanns “Concertsatz” in d-moll’, Beiträge zur Geschichte des Konzerts: Festschrift Siegfried Kross, ed. R. Emans and M. Wendt (Bonn, 1990), 185–99
- K.W. Niemöller : ‘Robert Schumanns Cellokonzert in der Instrumentation von Dmitri Schostakowitsch: ein Beitrag zur Schumann-Rezeption in der Sowjetunion’, Beiträge zur Geschichte des Konzerts: Festschrift Siegfried Kross, ed. R. Emans and M. Wendt (Bonn, 1990), 411–21
- S. Roe : ‘The Autograph Manuscript of Schumann’s Piano Concerto’, MT, 131 (1990), 77–9
- B.R. Appel : ‘Die Überleitung vom 2. zum 3. Satz in Robert Schumanns Klavierkonzert opus 54’, Mf, 44 (1991), 255–61
- M.H. Kang : Robert Schumann’s Piano Concerto in A minor: a Stemmatic Analysis of the Sources (diss., Ohio State U., 1992)
- C. Macdonald : ‘The Models for Schumann’s F-major Piano Concerto of 1831’, Studi musicali, 21 (1992), 159–89
- F. Weingartner : ‘On Schumann as Symphonist’, Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 375–84 [Ger. orig. pubd in F. Weingartner: Die Symphonie nach Beethoven (Leipzig, 1897; Eng. trans., 1904), 27–34, and idem: Ratschläge für die Aufführungen klassischer Symphonien (Leipzig, 1906), 84–6]
- C. Macdonald : ‘“Mit einer eignen ausserordentlichen Composition”: the Genesis of Schumann’s Phantasie in A Minor’, JM, 13 (1995), 240–59
- M. Musgrave : ‘Symphony and Symphonic Scenes: Issues of Structure and Context in Schumann’s “Rhenish” Symphony’, Analytical Strategies and Musical Interpretation: Essays on Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Music, ed. C. Ayrey and M. Everist (Cambridge, 1996), 120–48
- L.C. Roesner : ‘Schumann’, The Nineteenth-Century Symphony, ed. D.K. Holoman (New York, 1997), 43–77
P: Chamber music
- J.A. Fuller Maitland : Schumann’s Concerted Chamber Music (London, 1929)
- G. Wilcke : Tonalität und Modulation im Streichquartett Mendelssohns und Schumanns (Leipzig, 1933)
- D.F. Tovey : Essays in Musical Analysis: Chamber Music (London, 1944/R), 142–54 [op.21 no.8, op.44]
- O. Neighbour : ‘Schumanns dritte Violinesonate’, NZM, Jg.117 (1956), 423–5
- A. Molnár : ‘Die beiden Klavier-Trios in d-Moll von Schumann (op.63) und Mendelssohn (op.49)’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 1 (Leipzig, 1961), 79–85
- L.E. Correll : ‘Structural Revisions in the String Quartets opus 41 of Robert Schumann’, CMc, no.7 (1968), 87–95
- J. Westrup : ‘The Sketch for Schumann’s Piano Quintet op.44’, Convivium musicorum: Festschrift Wolfgang Boetticher, ed. H. Hüschen and D.-R. Moser (Berlin, 1974), 367–71
- W. Boetticher : ‘Schumanns frühe Klavierquartett c-Moll (1828/29)’, Mf, 31 (1978), 465–7
- H. Kohlhase : Die Kammermusik R. Schumanns: Stilistische Untersuchungen (Hamburg, 1979)
- H. Kohlhase : ‘Robert Schumanns Klavierquintett op.44’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 148–73 [special issue]
- M.H. Schmid : Musik als Abbild: Studien zum Werk von Weber, Schumann und Wagner (Tutzing, 1981)
- D. Conrad : ‘Zu Schumanns Klavierquintett’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 343–56 [special issue]
- H. Kohlhase : ‘Die klanglichen und strukturellen Revisionen im Autograph der Streichquartette op.41’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 53–77
- B. Smallman : The Piano Trio: its History, Technique and Repertoire (Oxford, 1990)
- S. Wollenberg : ‘Schumann’s Piano Quintet in E flat: the Bach Legacy’, MR, 52 (1991), 299–305
- J.C. Nelson : ‘Progressive Tonality in the Finale of the Piano Quintet, op.44 of Robert Schumann’, Indiana Theory Review, 13/1 (1992), 41–51
- J. Lester : ‘Reading and Misreading: Schumann’s Accompaniments to Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin’, CMc, no.56 (1994), 24–53
- J. Daverio : ‘“Beautiful and Abstruse Conversations”: the Chamber Music of Schumann’, Nineteenth-Century Chamber Music, ed. S. Hefling (New York, 1998), 208–41
Q: Late works
- H. Truscott : ‘The Evolution of Schumann’s Last Period’, The Chesterian, 31 (1956–7), 76–84, 103–11
- E. Melkus : ‘Zur Revision unseres Schumann-Bildes’, ÖMz, 15 (1960), 182–90
- G. Eismann : ‘Zu Robert Schumanns letzten Kompositionen’, BMw, 10 (1968), 151–7
- N. Nagler : ‘Gedanken zur Rehabilitierung des späten Werks’, Robert Schumann, 1, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1981), 303–46 [special issue]
- M. Struck : ‘Gerüchte um den ‘‘späten” Schumann’, NZM, Jg.143/5 (1982), 52–6
- D. Schnebel : ‘Postscriptum zu Schumanns Spätwerken’, Robert Schumann, 2, Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 1982), 367 [special issue]
- R. Kapp : Studien zum Spätwerk Robert Schumanns (Tutzing, 1984)
- M. Struck : Die umstrittenen späten Instrumentalwerke Schumanns (Hamburg, 1984)
- R. Kapp : ‘Schumann nach der Revolution: Vorüberlegungen, Statements, Hinweise, Materialien, Fragen’, Schumann in Düsseldorf: Düsseldorf 1988, 315–415
- M. Struck : ‘Zur Relation von Quellenbefunden und analytischen Erkenntnisgewinn im Spätwerk Robert Schumanns’, Mf, 44 (1991), 236–54
- F. Brendel : ‘Robert Schumann mit Rücksicht auf Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, und die Entwicklung der modernen Tonkunst überhaupt’, NZM, 22 (1845), 63–7, 81–3, 98–102, 113–15, 121–3, 145–7, 149–50
- A. Schubring : ‘Die gegenwärtige Musikepoche und Robert Schumann’s Stellung in der Musikgeschichte’, NZM, 54 (1861), 197–8, 205–6, 213–4; Eng. trans. in Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 362–74
- O. Alain : ‘Schumann und die französische Musik’, Sammelbände der Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, 1 (Leipzig, 1961), 47–63
- M. Schoppe : ‘Die Anfänge der Schumann-Rezeption’, Schumann-Tage I: Karl-Marx-Stadt 1976, 6–16
- F. Lesure, ed. C. Debussy: Monsieur Croche et autres écrits (Paris, 1971; Eng. trans., 1977, as Debussy on Music)
- L. Crompton, ed.: The Great Composers: Reviews and Bombardments by Bernard Shaw (Berkeley, 1978)
- P. Rumenhöller : ‘Botschaft von Meister Raro: zum Verständnis von Robert Schumann heute’, NZM, Jg.142 (1981), 226–30
- J. Thym : ‘Schumann in Brendel’s Neue Zeitschrift für Musik from 1845 to 1856’, Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on their Work and its Context, ed. J.W. Finson and R.L. Todd (Durham, NC, 1984), 21–36
- M.K. Cerny : ‘Schumann und die tschechischen Komponisten um die Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 46–50
- J.D. Degen : ‘Schumanns Einfluss auf die skandinavischen Schüler und Schülernachfolger’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 29–35
- A. Forchert : ‘Mahler und Schumann’, Mahler-Interpretation: Aspekte zum Werk und Wirken von Gustav Mahler, ed. R. Stephan (Mainz, 1985), 45–61
- R. Kapp : Schumann-Reminiszenen bei Mahler, Gustav Mahler, Musik-Konzepte (1989), 325–61 [special issue]
- P. Ramroth : Robert Schumann und Richard Wagner im geschichtsphilosophischen Urteil von Franz Brendel (Frankfurt, 1991)
S: Other special studies
- F. Schnapp : Heinrich Heine und Robert Schumann (Hamburg, 1924)
- P. Frenzel : Robert Schumann und Goethe (Leipzig, 1926)
- H.C. Wolff : ‘Robert Schumann: der Klassizist’, Musica, 2 (1948), 47–54
- G. von Dadelsen : ‘Robert Schumann und die Musik Bachs’, AMw, 14 (1957), 46–59
- U. Martin : ‘Ein unbekanntes Schumann-Autograph aus dem Nachlass Eduard Krügers’, Mf, 12 (1959), 405–15 [on the copy Schumann made, 1837, of Die Kunst der Fuge]
- R. Fritsch : Schumanns Vater als Verleger (Frankfurt, 1960)
- D. Kämper : ‘Zur Frage der Metronombezeichnungen Robert Schumanns’, AMw, 21 (1964), 141–55
- E. Sams : ‘Did Schumann use Ciphers?’, MT, 106 (1965), 584–91
- E. Sams : ‘The Tonal Analogue in Schumann’s Music’, PRMA, 96 (1969–70), 103–17; repr. in Robert Schumann: the Man and his Music, ed. A. Walker (London, 1972, 2/1976), 390–405
- E. Sams : ‘A Schumann Primer?’, MT, 111 (1970), 1096–7
- S. Keil : Untersuchungen zur Fugentechnik in Robert Schumanns Instrumentalschaffen (Hamburg, 1973)
- L.C. Roesner : Studies in Schumann Manuscripts (diss., New York U., 1973)
- K. Marsoner : ‘Das Sonatenkonzept Robert Schumanns in Theorie und Praxis’, Gustav Mahler: Sinfonie und Wirklichkeit, ed. O. Kolleritsch (Graz, 1977), 172–81
- W. Boetticher : ‘Zum Problem eines “Urtextes” bei Robert Schumann und Anton Bruckner’, GfMKB: Bayreuth 1981, 404–7
- W. Burde : ‘Robert Schumann: ein moderner Komponist’, NZM, Jg.142 (1981), 221
- J. Draheim : ‘Schumann und Shakespeare’, NZM, Jg.142 (1981), 237–47
- J.W. Finson : ‘Schumann and Shakespeare’, Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on their Work and its Context, ed. J.W. Finson and R.L. Todd (Durham, NC, 1984), 125–36
- A. Mayeda : ‘Schumanns Gegenwart’, ‘Die Skizzen Robert Schumanns als stilkritische Erkenntnisquelle’, Robert Schumann: ein romantisches Erbe in neuer Forschung – acht Studien, ed. Robert-Schumann-Gesellschaft, Düsseldorf (Mainz, 1984), 9–21, 119–39
- K. Bula : ‘Zu den Beziehungen Chopins zu Schumann’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 23–8
- J. Mainka : ‘Schumann und der Realismus’, Wegzeichen: Studien zur Musikwissenschaft, ed. J. Mainka and P. Wicke (Berlin, 1985), 74–90
- B. Meissner : Geschichtsrezeption als Schaffenskorrelat: Studien zum Musikgeschichtsbild Robert Schumanns (Berne, 1985)
- W. Siegmund-Schultze : ‘Zu den Beziehungen Robert Schumanns und Johannes Brahms’, Robert-Schumann-Tage [X]: Zwickau 1985, 19–22
- N. Petrat : Hausmusik des Biedermeier im Blickpunkt der zeitgenössischen musikalischen Fachpresse (1815–1848) (Hamburg, 1986)
- R. Kapp : ‘Tempo und Charakter in der Musik Schumanns’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 193–222
- K.W. Niemöller : ‘Zur analytischen Interpretation der Musik Robert Schumanns’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 149–53
- M. Wendt : ‘Zu Robert Schumanns Skizzenbüchern’, Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretation – 16 Studien, ed. A. Mayeda and K.W. Niemöller (Mainz, 1987), 101–19
- C. Macdonald : ‘Schumann’s Earliest Compositions and Performances’, JMR, 7 (1987–8), 259–83
- A. Newcomb : ‘Schumann and Late Eighteenth-Century Narrative Strategies’, 19CM, 11 (1987–8), 164–74
- C.-H. Mahling : ‘Nähe und Distanz: Bemerkungen zum Verhältnis von Robert Schumann zu Frédéric Chopin und Franz Liszt’, Gattungen der Musik und ihre Klassiker, ed. H. Danuser (Laaber, 1988), 517–25
- N. Temperley : ‘Schumann and Sterndale Bennett’, 19CM, 12 (1988–9), 207–20
- H.J. Dill : ‘Romantic Irony in the Works of Robert Schumann’, MQ, 73 (1989), 172–95
- L.C. Roesner : ‘Brahms’s Editions of Schumann’, Brahms Studies: Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. G. Bozarth (Oxford, 1990), 251–82
- M. Waldura : Monomotivik, Sequenz und Sonatenform im Werk Robert Schumanns (Saarbrücken, 1990)
- J. Draheim : ‘Robert Schumann als Übersetzer’, Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser, ed. B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer (Düsseldorf, 1991), 40–48
- J.A. Kruse : ‘Robert Schumanns Lektüre: Zeitgenössischer Kanon, individuelle Schwerpunkte, kompositionsspezifische Auswahl und seine Urteile als Leser’, Robert Schumann und die Dichter: ein Musiker als Leser, ed. B.R. Appel and I. Hermstrüwer (Düsseldorf, 1991), 123–34
- J. Draheim : ‘Schumann Erstdrucke: Versuch einer bibliographischen Ergänzung’, Mf, 46 (1993), 53–60
- B. Bischoff : Monument für Beethoven: die Entwicklung der Beethoven-Rezeption Robert Schumanns (Cologne, 1994)
- L. Botstein : ‘History, Rhetoric, and the Self: Robert Schumann and Music Making in German-Speaking Europe, 1800–1860’, Schumann and his World, ed. R.L. Todd (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 3–46
- D. Brodbeck : ‘The Joachim-Brahms Counterpoint Exchange; or Robert, Clara, and “the best harmony between Jos. and Joh.”’, Brahms Studies, 1, ed. D. Brodbeck (Lincoln, NE, and London, 1994), 30–80
- R.L. Todd : ‘On Quotation in Schumann’s Music’, Schumann and his World (Princeton, NJ, 1994), 80–112
- J. Lester : ‘Robert Schumann and Sonata Forms’, 19CM, 18 (1994–5), 189–210
- J. Bellman : ‘ Aus alten Märchen: the Chivalric Style of Schumann and Brahms’, JM, 13 (1995), 117–35
- M.L. Maintz : Franz Schubert in der Rezeption Robert Schumanns: Studien zur Ästhetik und Instrumentalmusik (Kassel, 1995)
- C.H. Porter : ‘The Schumann Legacy in Germany’s Heartland’, American Organist, 29/2 (1995), 56–62
- B. Bischoff : ‘Das Bach-Bild Robert Schumanns’, Bach und die Nachwelt, i: 1750–1850, ed. M. Heinemann and H.J. Hinrichsen (Laaber, 1997), 421–99
- H. Krebs : Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of Robert Schumann (New York, 1999)
For further bibliography to 1979 see Grove6