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i T H E

M A S T E R

M U S I C I A N S

SCHUMANN
Eric Frederick

OXFORD
UNIVERSITY PRESS

2001

Jensen

OXFORD

UNIVERSITY PRESS

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Copyright 2001 by Oxford University Press. Inc.

First published as an Oxford University Press paperback, 2005
Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.
198 Madison Avenue, NewYork, NewYork 10016
Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
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without prior permission of Oxford University Press.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in- Publication Data
Jensen, Eric Frederick, 1951Schumann / Eric Frederick Jensen.
p. cm. (The master musicians)
Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-19-513566-0; 0-19-518297-9 (pbk.)

1. Schumann, Robert, 1810-1856.
2. Composers Germany Biography.
I. Title. II. Master musicians series.
ML410.S4J45 2000
780'. 92 dc21 [B] 00-027866

Series designed by Carla Bolte

Portions of the text have been previously published and are reprinted by permission:
"Schumann at Endenich," The Musical Times CXXXIX (March and April 1998), pp. 10-19,14-24;
"Explicating Jean Paul:The Program for Schumann's Papillons, Op. 2," 19th Century Music,
Vol. 22, no. 2, pp. 127-44, 1998 by The Regents of the University of California;
"Schumann, Hummel, and the Clarity of a Well-Planned Composition," Studia Musicobgica'XL (1999), pp. 59-70.
Photograph credits: photos 1-7,9,12-15, courtesy Robert-Schumann-Haus, Zwickau, Germany;
photos 8,11, courtesy Wurlitzer-Bruck, NewYork;
photo 10, courtesy Henrich-Heine-Institut, Diisseldorf, Germany.

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed in the United States of America
on acid free paper

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE

OF MY BROTHER,

GROVER.

The songs I had are withered

Or vanished clean,
Yet there are bright tracks
Where I have been,
And there grow flowers
For others' delight.
Think well, O singer,
Soon comes night.
Ivor Gurney

MEMORY

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Contents
Preface
ix
List of Abbreviations

xv

1 Childhood and Youth

2 University Years

17

3, Schumann and Literature

39

4 Commitment to Music

58

5 Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834

80

6 The League of David

106

7 Courtship and Marriage

122

8 The Piano Compositions, 1834-39

141

9 Married Life in Leipzig

174

10 The Compositions, 1840-44

192

11 The Years in Dresden

217

12 Schumann's Dramatic Works

236

13 The Years in Dusseldorf

259

14 The Compositions, 1845-54

281

15 Endenich

312

Epilogue "The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood

Appendices:
Calendar 345
List of Works 351
Personalia 364
Select Bibliography 368
Index 373

335

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Preface

CHUMANN'S CONTEMPORARIES WOULD BE ASTONISHED BY THE AMOUNT

of interest in him today. To some, he was the composer of bizarre and
often peculiar works for piano. To others, he was the composer of
chamber music and symphonies too conventional and traditional in basis.
To most, he was better known as a music critic than as a composer. Few
would have considered him among the most significant composers of his
day, preferring instead Mendelssohn or Spohr, Meyerbeer or Wagner.
Yet, Schumann is increasingly regarded not just as a composer of
stature but as one of the leading figures of German Romanticism. The
past decades have witnessed a phenomenal growth of interest in him and
his music. A new scholarly edition of his compositions is in progress. A
revised thematic catalogue of his work and complete editions of his
correspondence and music criticism are being planned. A great number
of scholarly articles and monographs have appeared, as well as recordings
of virtually all of his music.
But Schumann's move to prominence has been a slow process. In
1854, he had a nervous breakdown (one of three over a twenty-year
period), and at his own request was placed in a mental institution to
recover. He died there two years later. Mental illness in the Victorian era
was regarded with fear, suspicion, and abhorrence. Schumann was
suddenly seen as a pathetic figure whose mental instability had marred
much of his work.This attitude was one that lingered forcefully for much
of the twentieth century. It was complemented by a maudlin view
especially popular in the English-speaking world: Schumann the
Romantic tone-poet, the sentimental creator of "Traumerei."
Conflicting perceptions of Schumann emerged during the first half of
the twentieth century, primarily a result of social and political turmoil in
Germany. When Schumann's private papers and journals (he maintained
a copious series of diaries) became available for examination, they fell
into the hands of Nazi scholars. Their studies, filled with fabrications and
lies, presented Schumann as a model Aryan and devout anti-Semite.

IX

x Preface

During World War II, many of Schumann's personal documents were lost
or displaced. A substantial portion of those that survived were in East
Germany, and Marxist scholars then put them to use. Schumann became
a courageous champion of "The People."
A more truthful view of Schumann only began to emerge in 1971,
when the first of his diaries was published. The remaining diaries
appeared sixteen years later; Schumann's household books (diaries of a
sort) were published in 1982. A scholarly editionstill in progressof
Schumann's correspondence with his future wife, Clara Wieck, was
begun in 1984. At last, nearly a century and a half after his death, it
became possible to view him in his own words, and the picture that
resulted differed substantially from those that previously had been
available.
Rather than dreaming his life away at the piano, Schumann was an
indefatigable worker driven by ambition. His compositions confirm it
well over 150 works, many of substantial length, during approximately
twenty years. But more significant than their number is their variety.
Throughout his career, Schumann challenged himself to explore new
genres. He could easily have specialized in piano compositions or songs,
as did many of his contemporaries. Instead, he made a point of
attempting something new, whether in traditional forms such as opera or
symphony, or in genres of his own creation, such as the choral ballads of
his last years. In each case, Schumann's efforts were not the result of
commissionshe often had no idea if his compositions would be
performedbut were self-imposed.
Schumann seemed content only when he set new standards for
himself. But, as the diaries and household books reveal, he was also
concerned with the business of music. The music journal he founded and
edited, the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, was profitable and steadily increased
in sales. Its success was almost entirely the result of Schumann's own
efforts. In his compositions, Schumann reckoned on similar financial
success. His move from piano compositions to songs, for example, was
intended in part because of his hope to earn more money as a song
writer.
What makes Schumann's accomplishments even more remarkable are
the circumstances surrounding them. His success as a music critic was a
mixed blessing. While he found much gratification as a writer (and

Preface xi

helped to create a market for the new music of his day, often in the face
of substantial opposition), he would have preferred to spend more of his
time composing. Often work on compositions had to wait while a
deadline was met for his criticism. Financial concerns were always
present, and he earned more as a music critic than as a composer.
In addition, Schumann suffered from depression, so severe that at
times work of any sort was impossible. But he was not the "madman" the
nineteenth century created. By modern standards, it seems likely that his
mental illness could have been managed, if not cured. The treatment he
received only exacerbated his condition, making his final years an ordeal,
and his confinement in a mental institution a nightmare come true.
Schumann's diaries and correspondence are often deeply personal, and
bring him to life as no other source can. They reveal an exceptional
human spirit, notable for its integrity and idealism, and steadfast in its
devotion and dedication to music. Readily apparent are his great
sensitivity and love for beauty, whether in nature (for which Schumann
had a great appreciation) or in works of art. His friendships are
consistently noted, and emphasize his ability to focus on what is best in
human nature. Family life plays a large role as well. Surprising are the
frequent references to his children, not, as might be expected, in the guise
of a doting father but as a lover of childhood and a keen admirer of an
idealized innocence.
In writing this study of Schumann, it seemed essential to use his
diaries, household books, and letters as the primary sourcenot merely
to create a more accurate representation of him, but to allow him to
speak for himself. The diaries and household books are readily available
in scholarly editions. But Schumann's correspondencehe was a prolific
letterwriteris scattered in more than a dozen books and periodicals
published over the past century. None of these make any pretence of
being complete, and the texts have frequently been heavily editedin
some cases, even altered and deliberately distorted. I have consulted all of
them, but have used four most frequently: F. Gustav Jansen's Briefe: Neue
Folge (Leipzig, 1904), Hermann Brier's Robert Schumann's Leben:Aus seinen
Briefen geschildert (Berlin, 1887), Siegfried Kross's Briefe und Notizen Robert
und Clara Schumanns, 2nd ed. (Bonn, 1982), and the correspondence of
Schumann and his wife, Briefwechsel: Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Frankfurt
am Main, 1984-).

xii Preface

For the letters of Schumann's youth, two often complementary

editions are available: the Jugendbriefe, first edited by Clara Schumann in
1885, and Derjunge Schumann: Dictungen und Briefe, edited in 1917 by
Alfred Schumann. Although I have used both, the latter is more reliable
and, whenever possible, I have used it in preference to the Jugendbriefe. I
have also used as a primary source Georg Eismann's documentary study:
Robert Schumann: Ein Quellenwerk iiber sein Leben und Schaffen (Leipzig,
1956; only the first volume: the second is a miscellany of Schumann's
previously published music criticism).
It has been my intention to remove some of the mystery associated
with Schumann and his music, and to present a more reliable
representation of the man and his age. Common errorssuch as the
birthdate of Schumann's mother and even Schumann's true name-are
corrected. And I have tried to provide lucid answers to a multitude of
biographical questions that have long remained problematical, including
Schumann's complicated relationship with his family, his literary skills
and their effect on his compositions, the basis of his celebrated "hand
injury," the sources of his League of David, the travails of his married life,
and the nature of his mental illness.
In addition, a number of new points are presented concerning
Schumann's compositions, particularly concerning his changing musical
aesthetics. Much space has been devoted to literary influences, program
music, and the significance of "hidden" musical quotations. I do not,
however, perceive Schumann as a predominantly "literary composer,"
often a corollary to the perception of him as a sentimental "tone-poet."
Early in his career (before 1832), and then again after his marriage in
1840, musical models strongly influenced his work, leading to the
supposed dichotomy that has often been perceived between the piano
compositions of the 1830s and his later work.
Schumann's compositions were often created in response to critical
reaction and pressing financial needsnot, as has been frequently
maintained, by following creative whim. Included is a reevaluation of all
of his compositions, particularly from the latter part of his career (which
are less known), as well as a comprehensive discussion of the works of his
youth (that is, the compositions created before 1834, also lesser known).
In exploring the programmatic tendencies of his music, an explanation is
offered for the enigmatic program of Papillons op. 2 (including the

Preface xiii
significance of the quotation of the "Grossvater Tanz"), and the role of
the "Sphinxes" in Carnaval op. 9. Part of the puzzle of Schumann's music
has been not just its extramusical connotations but its unacknowledged
association to the music of other composers; in that sense, new
information is provided about the role of Schumann's musical
borrowings, especially in the Second Symphony and String Quartets.
Of the sixteen chapters, five are devoted solely to a discussion of the
music. But the biographical chapters have been conceived independently
from those dealing with the music, and those who feel uncomfortable
reading music analysis can skip the chapters on music without losing the
thread of Schumann's life. With all primary sources, I have relied on the
original (usually in German, but occasionally in French or Italian).The
translations are my own, except in a few instances where I have preferred
the work of another who seemed to capture the flavor of the nineteenthcentury better than myself; these cases are noted in the footnotes. In
order to reduce the number of footnotes, the two most frequently cited
sources for Schumann's correspondence-Jansen's Briefe and the
Briefwechsel between himself and his wifeare indicated in the text by
dates.
My thanks to Stanley Sadie, and to Maribeth Anderson Payne,
executive editor of music books at Oxford University Press, for their
support, advice and encouragement. It has been a pleasure to work with
Maureen Buja as she has guided this book through its final stages.
The brunt of the discomforts associated with this project fell on my
family, and I am grateful to my wife, Allie, and son, Ben, for their
understanding. As always, my wife has been my best critic.This book has
been much improved by her suggestions.

This page intentionally left blank

List of Abbreviations for

Frequently Cited Sources

Br

Robert Schumann, Briefe. Neue Folge, ed. F. Gustav Jansen (Leipzig,

1904).

Cl/Rob

Clara and Robert Schumann, Briejwechsel, ed. Eva Weissweiler, 2

vols. (Frankfurt am Main, 1984,1987).

Eismann Georg Eismann, Robert Schumann: Ein Quellenwerk tiber sein Leben
und Schaffen, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1956). References are to the first
volume only.
GS

Robert Schumann, Gesammelte Schriften uber Musik und Musiker, ed.

Martin Kreisig, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1914).

HSHLT Robert Schumann, Haushaltbucher, 18371856, ed. Gerd Nauhaus, 2

vols. (Leipzig, 1982).
JgBr

Robert Schuma.nn,Jugendbriefe, ed. Clara Schumann (Leipzig, 1886).

JS

Der junge Schuman: Dichtungen und Briefe, ed. Alfred Schumann

(Leipzig, 1917).

Tgb I

Robert Schumann, Tagebucher, I: 18271838, ed. Georg Eismann

Tgb II

Robert Schumann, Tagebucher, II: 18361854, ed. Gerd Nauhaus

(Leipzig, 1971).
(Leipzig, 1987).
W

Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, Robert Schumann: Eine Biogmphie

(Leipzig, 1906).

xv

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C H A P T E R

Childhood and Youth

"You must have been such a strange boy!"

Letter to Schumann from Clara Wieck (4 March 18

T SCHOOL HE WAS AN AVERAGE STUDENT," RECALLED EMIL

Flechsig, a close friend of Schumann during his youth, "rather

dreamy and inattentive. But what soon struck me about him was the
absolute certainty in his own mind that one day he would become
famous. In what he would be famousthat had yet to be determined
but famous whatever the circumstances."1 The "dreamy and inattentive" side of Schumann's personalitySchumann, the romantic and impractical visionaryhas been broadly affirmed by his biographers. His
ambition has been all but forgotten. Zwickau, the small and tranquil
town in Saxony where Schumann spent his childhood and youth, was
an unlikely location for one bent on achieving fame in the world.
Although he was only twelve years old when he first met Flechsig, by
that age Schumann realized that his pursuit of fame would best be
accomplished in the arts. Flechsig's query"in what Schumann would
be famous"remained unans-wered for some time. But in Schumann's
mind there were only two possibilities: music or literature.
Emil Flechsig, "Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann," Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik CXVII
(1956), p. 392.

2SCHUMANN

Schumann's birth in Zwickau on 8 June 1810 and baptism six days

later have been the source of confusion. In biographies and entries in
dictionaries, lexicons, and encyclopedias, he is routinely given the middle name Alexander. But when baptized, Schumann was given no middle name at allnor did he use one. On all official documents he is
referred to as, simply, Robert Schumann. The middle name, Alexander,
was mistakenly used by Schumann's first biographer, Wilhelm Joseph
von Wasielewski, and has invariably been adopted since.
In the early nineteenth century, Zwickau had a population of only
about four thousand. The surrounding countryside was beautiful and
idyllic, and from an early age Schumann enjoyed walks in the fields and
woods, a habit he was to continue throughout his life. His delight in
the countryside was shared by his father who with obvious partiality
described Zwickau as "one of the loveliest and most romantic regions
of Saxony . . . On the whole, the entire area around Zwickau is so filled
with natural beauty that it truly could be called a park."2
During the first years of Schumann's life, however, these idyllic
charms were scarcely in evidence. In the summer of 1812, Napoleon
was preparing to invade Russia, and he and his troops passed through
Zwickau on their way to the Russian border. Saxony was an ally of
France, and the disasters of the campaign filled Zwickau with the horrors of war. During the retreat, wounded French soldiers were quartered
there; soon Cossacks of the victorious Russian army appeared outside
the town itself. The theater of war moved to Saxony, and in 1813 the
most significant battles of the campaign were fought in Dresden and
Leipzig, each less than sixty miles from Zwickau. Food became scarce,
sanitary conditions deteriorated, and a typhus epidemic broke out.
Schumann's mother caught the disease and, to protect her son, he was
sent to live with his godparents, the Ruppius familya visit originally
intended for only six weeks, but which (for reasons unknown) by Schumann's own account lasted for two-and-a-half years. It is not known
how much contact Schumann had during this period with his own
family, but his return at the age of six to his true home was probably
an emotional one.
It could only have been a challenge during those difficult times for
August Schumann, Staats-, Past- und Zeitungslexicon von Sachsen. Quoted in Eismann, p. g.

Childhood and Youth 3

Schumann's father to provide for his family. But August Schumann was
a remarkable man who not only survived the turmoil but prospered
during it. Schumann was forty at the time, having been born on 2
March 1773 in the small town of Endschutz near Gera. The eldest son
of a Protestant minister, he early displayed unusual interest in literature
and philosophy. Unfortunately, the comparative poverty of the family
precluded a university education, and in 1787 he was apprenticed to a
merchant.
During the next half dozen or so years, he worked as a clerk in a
warehouse and in a grocer's shop, teaching himself bookkeeping in his
spare time. But his interest in literature remained keen. He studied
French and English, and avidly read contemporary works, including the
then-popular Night Thoughts of the English poet Edward Younga
work imbued with a somber melancholy, which August Schumann later
recounted had nearly driven him to madness. Because of his son's mental instability, this incident has been perceived as an indication of an
inherent instability within the Schumann family itself. But to view August Schumann's infatuation with the Night Thoughts in such a light is
to overlook both the power of Young's writing and the extraordinary
sensitivity characteristic of the period. In an age fond of extravagant
sentiment, readers longed to be swept away by their reading. As the
title implies, Young's Night Thoughts focus on death and melancholy, as
well as similar uncommonly gloomy topics relished by the public of the
day. His reaction to it is best seen as proof of his passion for literature
and deep sensitivity.
Schumann also tried his hand at writing, including a drama, "The
Thalheirn Family" (later turned into a story), and a novel, Scenes of
Knights and Tales of Monks. For a short period of time he even enrolled
as a student in the University of Leipzig but was unable to continue
for lack of funds. His fortunes changed for the better when he was
offered a position as bookkeeper in a bookstore in Zeitz owned by
Gottlob Heinrich Heinse, an author of popular fiction. Schumann soon
fell in love with Johanne Christiane Schnabel, his landlord's daughter.
Before consent for the marriage could be obtained, however, it was
stipulated that Schumann give proof of greater earning potential (an
obstacle to marriage that Schumann's son was also to encounter).
Schumann's response was to write at a feverish pace more than a half

4SCHUMANN

dozen works, including fiction and mercantile publications, using the

proceeds from their sale as the basis for opening a grocery store in
Ronneburg in 1795. August Schumann and Christiane Schnabel were
married that year. But he soon managed to favor his true interests by
creating a lending library as part of the establishment, using his own
library as the basis. In 1799, despite the objections of his father-in-law,
Schumann abandoned the grocery and entered the book trade. It was
a discerning move. The area around Leipzig had long been the bookpublishing center in Germany, and the industry was growing. Schumann established a business devoted to both selling and publishing
books. In 1808, with his brother Friedrich as partner, the firm was
settled in Zwickau. An inexpensive pocket edition of literary classics
including works by Walter Scott, Friedrich Schiller, and Miguel de Cervantesbecame highly profitable. Translations of Byron undertaken by
Schumann himself were also offered, including Beppo and portions of
Childe Harold. In 1810, Friedrich Schumann left to establish his own
publishing business in Gera. By that time August Schumann was one
of Zwickau's most notable citizens, and publisher of the local
newspaper.
Emil Flechsig's primary recollection of August Schumann was of his
industry: "I never saw him do anything but work."3 It took its toll.
Although Schumann created a publishing firm that was a resounding
financial success and that was to survive his death by fourteen years, ill
health plagued him, including abdominal complaints, gout, and occasional spells of giddiness. When he died in 1826, Schumann left 60,000
talers, a sum ample enough to assure financial security to his family for
many years. From his inheritance Robert Schumann received funds to
travel, to attend college, and a sizable bequest as well. It was his father's
success as a publisher that ultimately provided the financial means for
Schumann to study music, marry, and begin a career as a composer.
Throughout his life Robert Schumann expressed a deep love and
veneration for his father. In Robert's student years, August Schumann's
portrait (along with that of Napoleon, Jean Paul Richter, and, later,
Beethoven) was prominently displayed by his writing deskmen who
in his youth served as models and sources of inspiration. In the months
Flechsig, p. 392.

Childhood and Youth 5

after his father's death, Schumann's diary contains poignant references
to his loss. As an adult, the memory of his father did not fade. "This
is the date on which my good father died," he noted in his diary in
1842, "about whom I often think."4 Schumann's attitude toward his
mother differed considerably. Both love and solicitude were present,
but she was never placed on the pedestal reserved for his father. She
was six years older than her husband, having been born on 28 November 1767. After their marriage, she worked for a while in her husband's
grocery store, but it is apparent that much of her time was devoted to
raising an ever-growing family: Eduard (born 1797), Carl (born 1801),
Julius (born 1805), and Emilie (born 1807).
The Schumann household was one in which literature and music
played an important role. Like her husband, Christiane Schumann had
a lively interest in literature (a poem by her, "To Napoleon Bonaparte,"
was included by her son in one of his earliest literary efforts). Both she
and August Schumann sang; and, in addition to Robert, Eduard and
Julius received piano lessons. Because of her reluctance later to support
Robert in his decision to make a career in music, she has routinely
been portrayed as stolidly middle class, narrow-minded, and insensitive
to the talent and the wishes of her son. That was clearly not the case.
She took understandable pride in the fact that she was the first to suggest
music lessons for Robert. And it is possible that Schumann's maternal
ancestry was the source for some of his musical gifts: two members of
the Schnabel family (Schumann's maternal great-grandfather and greatgreatuncle) earned their living as musicians in the eighteenth century.
Schumann's formal schooling began at the age of six-and-a-half in
the private school of Hermann Dohner. This is an indication not only
of the importance given to education in the Schumann family but of
the financial success of August Schumann's firm. In the spring of 1820
Schumann entered the Lyceum. The study of music began when he
was seven, with piano lessons under the direction of Johann Gottfried
Kuntsch. The instruction probably stemmed from Schumann's singing
abilityhe was a gifted soprano as a boy. Kuntsch, the most knowledgeable and most prominent musician in Zwickau, taught at the Lyceum and was organist at the Marienkirche, the largest church in
4

Entry of 10 August in Tgb II, p. 237.

6SCHUMANN

Zwickau. When Schumann started his study with him, Kuntsch was
forty-two years old. Of his musical background and ability, little is
known. There is no indication that he himself had received any musical
training in depth; quite probably, to a great extent he was self-taught.
He made a name for himself in the area by organizing concerts and
recitals, including, on n March 1802 (only two years after the publication of the score), the first performance in Zwickau of Haydn's
Creation.
Virtually nothing is known of the nature of Schumann's study with
Kuntsch. One former student described Kuntsch as "a very good, but
strict teacher."5 Music theory and harmony apparently were not taught
by him, piano alone being the focus. As for Kuntsch's skill at the piano,
Schumann himself later described him as being only a "tolerable"
player. All in all, biographers of Schumann have not treated Kuntsch
kindly, emphasizing the obvious fact that the student was far more gifted
than the teacher. Many have taken their cue from Schumann's wife,
who in 1889 bluntly stated that Kuntsch had not been "distinguished
enough to be my husband's teacher."7 But Kuntsch was clearly the best
that Zwickau had to offer. And in many ways, he may have been an
ideal teacher for Schumann. He perceived his extraordinary ability, fostered it, provided an outlet for its development, and offered constant
support. Schumann was grateful, and throughout his life held Kuntsch
in high regard. They exchanged letters, scores, and gifts.
By the time of Schumann's entry into the Lyceum, his family had
purchased a new Streicher grand piano for his use. He began playing
duets with a friend, and soon was participating in an amateur concert
series founded in 1819 and supported by Kuntsch. This series, the
Deklamatorisch-musikalischen Abendunterhaltung (Poetic and Musical Evening Entertainment), provided an ideal means for displaying Schumann's
growing ability. In addition to music, there were dramatic readings, and
for a period of seven years (1821-1828) he participated in both areas.
Schumann's abilities were prominently displayed: on the program for

E. Herzog quoted in Br, p. 528.

Eismann, p. 12.

Letter of 28 May 1889 to Frederick Niecks in Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London,
1925), p. 32.

Childhood and Youth 7

25 January 1828, he both recited a monologue from Goethe's Faust and
performed an arrangement of Friedrich Kalkbrenner's Piano Concerto
op. 61. In the midst of these activities Schumann found time to study
briefly both cello and flute. And he participated in the larger-scale performances organized by Kuntsch. In 1821, there was a presentation of
the then-popular oratorio by Friedrich Schneider, The Last Judgment, an
event Schumann remembered fondly and with some amusement,
having served as accompanist for the performance while standing at the
piano. Schumann also organized occasional informal recitals at his
home, including a memorable performance of the overture to Vincenzo
Righini's Tigrane (1800) with a pair of violins, two flutes, a clarinet, and
two horns (Schumann himself filled in the rest of the orchestral parts
at the piano). Such informal concerts at the Schumann home could be
extensive, comprising nearly a dozen piecesa reflection of the extravagant length typical of concerts of the time.
Schumann's musical experiences were not limited to performing. He
probably heard performances of Weber's Der Freischtitz and Preciosa,
Cherubini's Les deux Journees, Mehul's Joseph, and Mozart's Entfuhrung
aus dem Serail. And he attended recitals regularly, one that he heard with
his mother in Carlsbad in 1819 being, by his own account, of special
significance. Ignaz Moscheles, probably the most distinguished piano
virtuoso of the time, was seated behind them. Schumann kept as a
precious memento a concert program that Moscheles had touched.
Years later when Moscheles dedicated one of his compositions to Schumann, Schumann wrote to thank him, mentioning as well the concert
of 1819: "At that time," he wrote, "I never dreamed that I would be
honored in this manner by so celebrated a master" (20 November
1851).
Much of Schumann's repertory during these years consisted of fashionable works of composers highly regarded at the time, but little
known today: Ignaz Pleyel, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Bernhard Anselm Weber, Ferdinand Ries, Moscheles, Carl Czerny, andlater to
become one of Schumann's betes noiresHenri Herz. But he also studied works of Haydn and Mozart, often in arrangements for four hands.
It appears likely that he did not become familiar with the music of
Beethoven until 1826 or 1827. Much time was spent as well in improvising at the piano, as Schumann later remembered, "for many hours

8 SCHUMANN

each day." Improvisation was important to him. Not only was he later
to make a considerable name for himself with it, many of his early
compositions are clearly improvisatory in origin.
"Even in my youth," Schumann recalled in 1846, "I felt the urge to
create, if not in music, then in poetry."9 He began composing dances
for the piano not long after he had started lessons on the instrument.
His first complete composition of length was created in 1822a setting
of Psalm 150 for chorus and orchestraa work that he later dismissed
as a childish effort. The grandiose seemed to hold special appeal for
him, for at about the same time he began work on several overtures
and sketches for opera. These attempts reveal more about Schumann's
ambition than about his musical abilities. He knew little of music theory, harmony, or instrumentation.
Despite his musical accomplishments during these years, much of
Schumann's energy was directed toward literature. In 1823, he assembled in a sketchbook a literary miscellany including poetry by himself
and his parents, anecdotes, biographies of composers, a fragment for a
tragedy, and references to musical performances. It was given the fanciful title Blatter und Blilmchen aus der goldenen Am: Gesammelt und zusammengebunden von Robert Schumann, genannt Skulander (Leaves and
Little Flowers From the Golden Meadow: Collected and Assembled by
Robert Schumann, known as Skulander). In format, it had much in
common with the literary albums and annuals popular at the time. Two
years later Schumann devised a similar project that he entitled Allerley
aus der Feder Roberts an der Mulde (A Miscellany From the Pen of Robert
on the River Mulde). Both undertakings can be seen as precursors of
the diaries and household records Schumann was to keep intermittently
for much of his life. Although diaries and literary albums were much
in vogue during the first half of the nineteenth century, Schumann took
particular pleasure in notingno matter how terselydaily events,
while at the same time maintaining a record of his artistic interests and
development.
In December 1825 his love for literature led to the creation of a
literary society. The group, composed of about a dozen school friends,
9

Eismann, p. 18.
Tgb II, p. 402.

Childhood and Youth 9

met thirty times and was in existence for more than two years. Their
intentions were to broaden their literary knowledge andat the same
timepromote German literature, an object very much a reflection of
growing German nationalism, as well as that of the Rektor of the Lyceum, Gottfried Hertel. Schumann provided the spirit and energy for
much of the group's activities. Goals of the society included the reading
of literary masterpieces and biographies of celebrated writers, discussions
of obscure passages from their readings, and the presentation of original
poetry by the members. Although classical poets such as Anacreon were
included in their discussions, most of their attention was focused on
popular German writers of the Enlightenment and early nineteenth
century.
There can be little doubt that at this time Schumann was giving
serious consideration to becoming a writer. He took an active role as
researcher, writer, and proofreader in two ambitious publishing ventures
of his father: Bildnisse der beruhmtesten Menschen aller Volker und Zeiten
(Portraits of the Most Celebrated People of All Time) in 1823, and a
new edition of Egidio Forcellini's monumental Totius latinitatis Lexicon
(1771; issued in four volumes by the Schumann firm, 183135). He
also held an exalted view of the mission of a poet, a not uncommon
stance for the time. In a student essay written in September 1827, "The
Life of the Poet," Schumann rhapsodized: "Is not the entire life of
the poet a happy, pure and spiritual one, devoted to what is most
noble and most high?"10 In 1826, he wrote without success to a newspaper, the Dresden Abendzeitung, asking them to publish some of his
poetry.
It is not difficult to see the hand of August Schumann in these endeavors. In many ways, his son was being encouraged to accomplish
what the father had not. In 1826, he attempted to arrange for Carl
Maria von Weberat the time Kapellmeister in Dresden, not far from
Zwickauto become Robert's teacher. But on 16 February 1826 Weber left for England to arrange performances of his recently completed
opera, Oberon. Already suffering from tuberculosis, he died in London
on 5 June. August Schumann's desire to retain Weber as a teacher confirms the earnestness with which he viewed his son's ability. But it was
10

GS II, p. 182.

IO S C H U M A N N

in many ways an impractical choice. Weber had few pupils. His students
in general tended also to be considerably more advanced in their study
than Robert was. It would have been unusual if he had taken Schumann on. But August Schumann must have realized that the selection
of Weber as a teacherassuming he would have consentedwould
probably have set Robert firmly on the path of making music his
profession.
August Schumann's plans never came to fruition. He died unexpectedly on 10 August 1826, probably of a heart attack. The only contemporary account of his death attributes it to "nervemibel."12 It is a
comparatively useless diagnosisperhaps best translated as "nervous disease"but used in the nineteenth century as a catch-all to cover a
broad array of illnesses, including heart ailments. It is important to note
that "nerveniibel" is not associated with a nervous breakdown or mental
illness, for in studies of Schumann the word is consistently mistranslated
(and in German studies, often misunderstood). As a result, August Schumann's death has been erroneously presented as a portent of his son's
mental collapse.
What made the sudden loss of August Schumann all the more difficult for the family was the recent death of Robert's sister, Emilie. It
appears that she took her own life, an act of particular significance given
Schumann's own suicide attempt in 1854. Little information about her
is available. From her childhood she had suffered from a disfiguring skin
disease that led to fits of depression. This resulted in what one contemporary source described as a "quiet madness," an apparent reference to
the fact that she was not violent and did not require either restraint or,
what was more common at the time, confinement.13
It is alleged that Emilie drowned herself in 1825 in a feverish state
resulting from typhus. Her death certificate lists the cause of death as a
"nervous stroke,"14 but again this imprecise term is not helpful. That
Our only source for the claim that August Schumann considered Weber as a teacher for
Robert is found in the correspondence of his son (see particularly the letter of 20 August
1831 from Schumann to Hummel in Br, p. 31.) According to Wasielewski, the correspondence between August Schumann and Weber was destroyed after Weber's death.
Eismann, p. 28.
Eugenie Schumann, Bin Lebensbild meines Voters (Leipzig, 1931), p. 61.
Nancy B. Reich, Clam Schumann. The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985), p. 58.

Childhood and Youth II

this much is known concerning Emilie's state is an indication that her
condition was common knowledge in Zwickau. Schumann does not
refer to her in his diaries or letters (though the letters of his youth have
been edited and references to her might have been deleted). Christiane
Schumann recalled, in a letter to her son in 1828, that he used to play
dances for Emilie's pleasure.
The deaths of friends and members of his family affected Schumann
deeply. There are later references in his diary to the deaths of his brothers and a beloved sister-in-law, all of which profoundly distressed him.
It is strange, then, that Schumann never referred in writing to Emilie's
madness, nor to the manner of her death. That he did not reveals a
good deal. In his youth, Schumann was fascinated with madness, and
was particularly intrigued by poets, writers, and musicians who had
been insane or taken their own lives. According to Flechsig, the instance
of Franz Anton Sonnenberg (17791805), a poet who committed suicide, "made a great impression upon him."15 In a similar manner Schumann was interested in the poet Friedrich Holderlin, who spent the
final thirty-six years of his life as a recluse living in a garret and calling
himself "Scardenelli."
In the nineteenth century, madness was romanticized; in some instances, a tinge of it was regarded as a necessary ingredient for creativity.
But in Schumann's case, the condition of Emilie must have brought
him in touch with the painful reality of depression and mental illness.
That he made no mention of her condition or death in his correspondence or diaries indicates that rather than successfully confronting what
must have disturbed him, he attempted to ignore it. When in the 1830s
Schumann began to display unusual concern for his own mental health,
his interest no longer appears detached, and his fascination has been
augmented by fear and anxiety.
It is fortunate that the grieving for the loss of his father and sister
was tempered by close friendships with classmates and a more active
social life. His best friend remained Emil Flechsig. Flechsig, two years
older than Schumann, was a year ahead of him in school, but the difference in age and grade level was no hindrance to what became a
remarkably enduring associationone that continued when Schumann
Flechsig, p. 396.

12 S C H U M A N N

went to college and even lasted, though with infrequent contact,

through Schumann's professional career.
Schumann and Flechsig shared common interests, both literary and
social. In company with Flechsig, Schumann made trips to neighboring
villages, sampled the local beer and wine, and met girlfriends. Striking
a pose characteristic of the day, he sentimentalized his relationships with
girls, portraying them as peerless creations whom he venerated and
idolized. But one incident revealed much about Schumann's temperament and anticipated similar reactions while he was a student in Leipzig
and Heidelberg. In his diary, Schumann noted meeting with a girlfriend,
Flechsig, and others one Sunday. Describing his reaction to what occurred that day (the actual events are not related), he wrote (and later
crossed out): "It was a terrible day. Such days shorten one's life: when
sensual pleasure comes too strongly forward, man becomes a beast. And
I was a beast. Enough. I am ashamed of myself."
By nature Schumann was attracted to sensual pleasure; beautiful
girlsreferences to them are frequent in his diarydelighted him, as
did champagne, good wine, Bavarian beer, and cigars. He feared overindulgence, felt degraded by it, and over the years the diary offers
evidence both of what he sensed as his overindulgence and his attempt
to chastise and change himself. There was within Schumann an intense
struggle between a spiritual idealism and what he perceived as a base
sensuality. When he surrendered to purely physical pleasure, Schumann
not only felt degraded, he felt a sense of guilt as well. No doubt a major
reason for this guilt was Schumann's belief in the purity and transcendent spirituality of the creative artist. But yet another source can be
traced to the strict and often hypocritical morality representative both
of the Victorian era and Biedermeier Germany.
Of all his friendships, most important for Schumann's development
as a musician was his association with the Carus family. In 1827, he met
Dr. Ernst August Carus, director of the mental institute in nearby Colditz. Carus's wife, Agnes, was a beautiful young -woman and a gifted,
sensitive musician. Schumann soon became a regular visitor to the CaTgb I, p. 30. Peter Ostwald's psychobiography, Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical
Genius (Boston, 1985), makes frequent reference to Schumann's supposed homosexual tendencies. On the contrary, Schumann's diary presents consistent indication of his overwhelming attraction to the opposite sex.

Childhood and Youth 13

rus home, developed a marked infatuation for Agnes, and wrote poetry
for her. When the Carus family later moved to Leipzig (during Robert's
student days there), Schumann's infatuation intensified. In his diary he
revealed his deep attachment to her: "I will go to bed and dream of
her, of her. Good night, Agnes . . . beautiful, beautiful dreams of A."
And (crossed out): "heavenly dream about A."17
What served to strengthen the friendship between Agnes Carus and
Robert was their mutual admiration for the music of Franz Schubert.
Schumann's first encounter with it had a profound effect on him. He
studied what was then available of Schubert's lieder and piano works,
and Schubert soon became Schumann's favorite composer. Schumann
even wrote a letter to Schubert but was too timid to send it. "There
was a time," Schumann recalled with effusion, "when I spoke unwillingly of Schubert, who should only be spoken of at night in the midst
of the forests and the stars."1 Early in December 1828, when he learned
of Schubert's death, Schumann noted in his diary: "Schubert is dead
dismay and confusion."19 Flechsig, Schumann's roommate at the time,
recalled that Schumann wept all night.
Schumann's discovery of Schubert's music coincided with a broadening and refining of his musical interests in general. As a composer,
he began to branch out and composed several lieder, as well as sketches
for a piano concerto in E flat major. His attention became focused not
just on popular composers for the piano, like Pleyel and Herz, but on
the work of composers of greater complexity and challenge. The music
of Mozart and Haydn was studied. Johann Sebastian Bach is first mentioned in Schumann's diaries in 1827 (as yet, there is no indication of,
the exalted position Bach was to hold in Schumann's eyes).
While his musical interests and knowledge were expanding, in the
summer of 1 827 Schumann discovered the writings of Jean Paul Richter. They were a revelation to him, comparable in their effect to his
discovery of Schubert. The work of Jean Paul tends to elicit strong
reactions from his readers. His style is distinctive and original, with
abrupt changes in mood and plot, full of whimsy, humor, outrageous

18

Entries of 13 July 1828, and 22 and 23 February 1829 in Ibid., pp. 94, 175, 176.
Review published in 1838 of Schubert's Grosses Duo op. 140 in GS I, p. 328.
Tgb I, p. 151.

14 S C H U M A N N

metaphors, and overweening sentiment. Schumann was captivated by

Jean Paul, and recommended him to all his friends. "Get Titan [Jean
Paul's most famous novel] from the nearest library so that we can discuss
it together," he advised Flechsig. "You will thank me when you have
1
"20
read it.
Because Schumann's fame rests on his work as a composer, the intensity of his literary interests can be easily underestimated. Schumann
at age seventeen revealed greater attraction to literature than to music.
"What I truly am," he wrote in his diary on 24 January 1827, "is not
at all clear to me. I believe I possess imagination. ... I am not a deep
thinker. . . . Whether I am a poetone can never become oneposterity shall determine." Schumann's use of the word "poet" is intended in a general sense (as the equivalent of "artist"). But his diary
contains numerous references to books and authors; music is scarcely
mentioned until 1828. Still, Schumann's literary pretensions need to be
placed in perspective. At that time youthful infatuation with contemporary literature was far from unusual. To become a poet or writer was
a dream of countless adolescents. In that sense, Schumann's diary emphasizes in many ways how unexceptional he was. Even more common
than reflections on the arts are self-centered musings about himself,
social outings, and girls. It would require a reader of prodigious sensitivity to discern in Schumann's diary at this stage any indication of
musical genius.
In the spring of 1828, Schumann passed his final examinations at
school, receiving the grade "worthy in all aspects." On 29 March, he
traveled to Leipzig to enroll in the university; the term began in May.
Flechsig had been studying there for a year. Although the matter may
have been discussed, serious consideration was not given to Schumann
becoming either a writer or a musician. It was his mother's decision
(supported by Schumann's brothers) that he study lawa profession, it
was hoped, that would provide a stable income. By contemporary social
standards, the decision to study law was a decided move up for the
Schumann family.
20

Letter of 29 August 1827 in JS, p. 115.

" Tgb I, p. 30.

Childhood and Youth 15

As a graduation present, before commencing his studies at the University of Leipzig, Schumann took a short trip through Bavaria with a
new friend, Gisbert Rosen. Rosen, two years Schumann's senior, was
also a student of law at Leipzig. He and Schumann had met during
Schumann's visit in March and had got along well together, foremost
being a mutual love of Jean Paul. But Rosen was now transferring to
the University of Heidelberg, so it was decided that Schumann should
accompany him part of the way, and then return by himself to Leipzig
to begin his studies.
Although Schumann had traveled a little before, his previous trips
had been limited to Saxony and locations not too distant. This was to
be his most extensive trip, and the first to Bavaria. Rosen and Schumann first stopped at Bayreuth, the small town where Jean Paul had
spent much of his life. "I am living," Schumann wrote to his brother
Julius, "among blessed memories of Jean Paul." The pair then traveled
via Nuremberg to Augsburg where Schumann spent nearly a week with
the family of Dr. Heinrich Wilhelm von Kurrer, who had been a close
friend of his father. It was through the Kurrers that Schumann was able
to arrange what became one of the highlights of the trip: a meeting
with Heinrich Heine in Munich. Carl Krahe, an actor engaged to Kurrer's daughter Clara, knew Heine and presented Schumann with a letter
of introduction.
On 5 May, Schumann and Rosen arrived in Munich for a four-day
stay. On the 8th, they met Heine. His Reisebilder (two volumes had
appeared in 1826 and 1827) and Buck der Lieder (1827) were growing in
popularity. Heine in 1828 was already a poet of considerable fame; unable to earn enough from his writing, however, he was hopeful of
gaining a professorship in Munich. Because of the irony and sarcasm
characteristic of much of Heine's work, Schumann viewed their meeting with trepidation. But he was charmed by him. "I had imagined
Heine to be sullen and misanthropic," Schumann later wrote to the
Kurrers, "but he was completely different from what I had thought. He
greeted me in a friendly manner . . . and escorted me around Munich
for several hours." Schumann seemed pleased to note "a bitter, ironical
Letter of 25 April 1828 inJS, p. 122.

l6 S C H U M A N N

smilebut a lofty smile at the trivialities of life, disdainful of the pettiness of mankind."23
In Munich, Rosen and Schumann parted. Schumann returned home,
on the way stopping once again in Bayreuth. This time he visited Jean
Paul's residence and met his widow (who gave him the portrait of Jean
Paul that was displayed by his desk). On 14 May, Schumann arrived in
Zwickau. But to his family's dismay, he remained only a few hours to
pack his bags, and then left for Leipzig, eager to begin life as a university
student.
After graduating from the Zwickau Lyceum, Schumann had mused
(much in the manner of Jean Paul) on his prospects:
School is now done with and the world lies before me. I could hardly
refrain from tears on coming out of school for the last time; but the joy
was greater than the pain. Now the inner, true man must come forth and
show what he is: thrust out into existence, flung into the world's night,
without guide, teacher, and fatherhere I stand, and yet the whole world
never appeared to me in a lovelier light than now as I confront it and,
rejoicing and free, smile at its storms.

The start of an independent life provided Schumann with excitement

and a sense of elation. But his exhilaration and lack of maturity were
to create unexpected difficulties and complications at home. Schumann's move to Leipzig in 1828 was the beginning of what was to
become an unusually stressful and troubling two-year period for his
family.

Letter of 9 June 1828 quoted in Eismann, p. 35. The meeting must have inspired Schumann. His diary notes that in August he was reading the Buck der Lieder.
Letter of 17 March 1828 to Flechsig (JS, p. 118), translated in Niecks, p. 40.

C H A P T E R

University Years

Every man, however brief or inglorious may have been his academical career, must remember with kindness and tenderness the
old university comrades and days. The young man's life is just
beginning: the boy's leading strings are cut, and he has all the
novel delights and dignities of freedom.
Thackeray, Pendennis

CHUMANN'S EAGERNESS TO LEAVE ZWICKAU WAS DUE NOT TO

the specific attractions of Leipzig, but rather to his yearning for
independence and a change of scene. Leipzigwith a population ten
times that of Zwickauprovided him with his first extended contact
with urban life. It was a bustling, mercantile center, noted for its publishing industry (its book fairs attracted buyers from all over Europe).
Music publishing flourished as well: two of the most prestigious publishers in Europe, Breitkopf & Hartel and Hofmeister, were located
there.
Musical life in Leipzig was unusually rich. The venerable Gewandhaus concerts, created in 1781, were among the earliest and most eminent in Europe. At the time of Schumann's residence in Leipzig, the
series comprised twenty concerts per season. Other concert series included the Euterpe (orchestral concerts founded in 1824), as well as a
chamber music series featuring the Matthai Quartet. The Thomas-

I?

l8 S C H U M A N N

schule, with which Johann Sebastian Bach had been associated, presented regular choral concerts. For opera there was the Leipzig Theaterthe weak link in Leipzig's musical lifesupplemented with regular
visits from the Italian Opera in Dresden. To someone who loved music,
the opportunities must have appeared irresistible. Yet, surprisingly,
Schumann's letters and diary at first made little reference to them. As a
student of law, it is perhaps understandable that his attention should
have been directed less toward the musical attractions of the city, and
more toward his studies and classwork. But Schumann found both the
study of law and Leipzig itself distinctly distasteful.
"Leipzig," he wrote to Gisbert Rosen not long after his arrival, "is
an infamous hole. ... I am wretched here and student life strikes me as
too coarse to plunge into" (5 June 1828). At the time, social activities
for students at German universities were dominated by the Burschenschaften, organizations similar to fraternities. They had long been associated with liberal political tendencies, including the dream of a united
Germany bound by a more democratic form of government. Schumann
had come to Leipzig with a naive perception of the Burschenschaften,
and was disappointed to discover in them a preoccupation with drinking, fencing, and duels. Missing was a sense of idealism. "Ah! what
models I had of students, and how wretched I found most of them!,"
he lamented.
Other aspects of life in Leipzig disappointed Schumann as well. "Naturewhere can you find it here?" he wrote to his mother. "All has
been disfigured by man. There are no valleys, no mountains, no woods
where I can immerse myself in my thoughts."1 While it is true that the
landscape near Leipzig lacked the variety and contrast of Zwickau, it
seems that at least some of Schumann's disappointment was a result of
being homesick. With Rosen now settled in Heidelberg, Schumann
had few close friends except for Emil Flechsig. Unfortunately, his association with Flechsig was not as rosy as Schumann had hoped. Schumann complained that he was dull and prosaic. Instead of the lively and
stimulating life Schumann had hoped to find, he described himself leading a life "monotonous and devoid of all pleasure. I'm lucky that I don't
live alone. I could easily become melancholy."2
Letter of 21 May 1828 in JS, pp. 12425.
Letter to his mother of 31 August 1828 mJgBr, p. 34.

University Years 19
Lengthy visits home (15-22 July, 12 September to 21 October, as
well as three weeks during the Christmas holidays) seem to have improved his outlook, but the study of law offered no consolation. From
the start, Schumann not only showed no inclination for it but revealed
a decided prejudice against it. Since his father's death, Schumann's
guardianworking in association with Christiane Schumannhad
been Gottlob Rudel, a cloth and iron merchant in Zwickau. Rudel was
regarded as an inflexible businessman, and for the next two years his
association with Schumann would be a severe trial for them both. Writing on 4 July 1828, Schumann assured Rudel that he would work
"industriously," but described the study of law as "ice-cold and dry."
Schumann's dislike of law may have owed something to his fondness
for Jean Paul, whose novels rarely portray lawyers favorably. In Flegeljahre, one of Schumann's favorites, an unemotional and eminently practical lawyer named Knoll serves as the embodiment of Philistinism,
expressing disdain for all poetryexcept that in Latin. "Cold jurisprudence," Schumann reported to his mother, "overwhelming from the
beginning with its ice-cold definitions, cannot please me. Medicine I
will not and theology I cannot study. I find myself in an eternal inner
struggle, and search in vain for an advisor who could tell me what to
do. And yetthere is no other way. I must study law, no matter how
cold or dry it may be. I will triumph: if a man but wills it, he can do
everything."3
Schumann's determination was admirable, but short-lived. According
to Flechsig, he "never set foot in a lecture room."4 Flechsig's statement
is complemented by that of another friend, Moritz Semmel, who noted
that Schumann "nearly never" attended law classes. "But it must be
noted," Semmel concluded, "that for Schumann self-instruction was of
great importance."5 It is quite true that Schumann excelled in teaching
himself; much of what he was to learn about composition was the result
of his own efforts. But there is no indication that Schumann devoted
much time to teaching himself law. In later years when questioned
Letter of 21 May 1828 inJS, p. 125.
A

Emil Flechsig, "Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann," Neue Zeitschrift fiir Musik CXVII
(1956), P- 393Quoted in Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, Schumanniana (Bonn, 1883), pp. 8687.

20 S C H U M A N N

about his law study, Schumann would smile and note that he had gone
to the doors of the lecture rooms and "had eavesdropped there for a
bit."6
While Schumann had no hesitation in telling his family of the tedious
and tiresome nature of studying law, they were never informed of the
irregularity of his class attendance. On the contrary, they were frequently advised of his hard work and regular attendance. During these
months Schumann was devoting far more energy to music than to law.
He was contemplating making music his career, but remained uncertain
what steps next to take. In the previous year Schumann had come across
a collection of songs by Gottlob Wiedebein, and had been much impressed by them. Wiedebein, a modest man who composed little, was
Kapellmeister in Brunswick. Schumann now decided to write to Wiedebein, both to praise Wiedebein's work and, by enclosing a half dozen
of his own lieder, to seek Wiedebein's advice and criticism.
The letter, deferential in tone and highly respectful, was written on
15 July 1828: "Be lenient with the youth who, uninitiated in the mysteries of tones, was incited to create with unsure hand his own work
and to lay before you these first attempts for your kind, but strictly
impartial criticism."7 Wiedebein's reply was a model of its kind. His
criticism was brief; what faults he discovered he attributed to Schumann's youth and inexperience. Much of the letter is fatherly in tone
(Wiedebein was forty-nine at the time) and filled with advice, hope,
and encouragement for the young composer.
Above all else, seek truth. Truth of melody, of harmony, of expressionin
a word, poetic truth. Where you do not find this, or where you find it
even threateneddiscard it, even if you cherish it. ... You have received
much, a great deal from nature; use it, and the esteem of the world will
i 8
not pass you by.

Four days later (5 August 1828) Schumann replied, offering heartfelt

thanks for Wiedebein's advice. He wanted to make clear as well the
limitations of his musical education:
6

W, p. 45Eismann, p. 39.
Ibid., p. 40.

University Years 21
I believe that in my earlier letter to you I forgot to say that I know nothing
of harmony, or thoroughbass, etc., or of counterpoint. Rather I am a pure
and artless pupil following the direction of nature. . . . But now I shall begin
the study of composition.

Implicit in Schumann's letter was the hope that Wiedebein would take
the time to write to him yet again. It is unfortunate that he did not,
for over the next few years Schumann could have used more of Wiedebein's advice and support.
Schumann's assertion to Wiedebein that he was now going to study
composition is indicative of a change in direction. Despite his talent
and love for music, Schumann remained a gifted dilettante. Now, with
the praise of a composer he greatly admired providing the impetus, at
the age of eighteen Schumann appears to have acknowledged his deficiencies and determined to remedy them. But inaction and indecision
persisted for two more years. To some extent, Schumann's lack of decisiveness resulted from the opposition he anticipated from his family
should he select music as a career. But his situation was further complicated by his continued attraction to literature, and his interest in the
possibility of becoming a writer. In the end, Schumann did nothing
because he was confused. With the death of his father, there was no
one as sympathetic to Schumann and as familiar with his situation to
provide the guidance he needed.
During these years Schumann never revealed frustration, desperation,
or a sense of urgency in determining his career. Even when he eventually decided to abandon law, he retained it as a possible future option.
He seems to have felt that it would all work out in the end, and, as
his diary reveals, for much of the time he was too busy enjoying himself
to worry about it. Although Schumann began by finding life in Leipzig
to be dull and dismal, within a few months he had found in the outskirts
a romantic spot which he enjoyed and where he wrote poetry. He
began, too, to lead a more social life. The frequent references in his
diary to hangovers give an indication of the results of these new activities. Schumann had broad tastes: Champagne, Burgundy, Bordeaux,
Tokay, domestic wines, or beer. "Worst hangover of my lifeas if I
were dead" (27 April 1829). "Very drunk" (3 May 1829).9 He noted
Tgb I, pp. 192, 194.

22 S C H U M A N N

in a nearly scientific manner the effect of stimulants on his creative

spirit. "If I have been drunk or have vomited, then on the next day
my imagination soars and is enhanced. While I am drunk, I can't do a
thingbut afterward I can. Black coffee also makes me drunk."10
The diary also documents Schumann's continued interest in the opposite sex. Beautiful girlseven those glimpsed in the street-always
seem to have merited an entry. Flirtations were common. In fact, much
of Schumann's diary presents him as a fairly typical college student.
Drinkingoften to excesswas an all-too-common part of German
student life. And, like his fellow students, Schumann also was frequently
in debt. At college, he was constantly short of funds, and became quite
skillful at pestering his mother, brothers, and Rudel for more. Who
would deny the urgency of the following appeal: "I would be much
obliged to you, most honored Herr Rudel, if you would send me as
soon as possible as much as possible!" (26 March 1830). As late as 1838
Schumann was to acknowledge that he was still far from overcoming
his "great indifference" to financial matters.
But not all of Schumann's time was taken up by student affairs.
Within a week after settling in Leipzig, he renewed his friendship with
the Carus family (Dr. Carus had accepted a position as professor of
medicine at the university). Their home was a meeting place for many
of the musicians in Leipzig, and it was probably at the Carus home on
31 March 1828 that Schumann first met Friedrich Wieck and his eightyear-old daughter, Clara.
In many ways Wieck was a character whom only E. T. A. Hoffmann
could have created: opinionated, domineering, impassioned, rude, irascible, and eccentric. He made his living primarily as a teacher of piano,
and he perceived his daughter to be his greatest accomplishment. Although only a child, her precocity, as well as the skill of her father's
training, were well known. From her birth, it had been Wieck's intention to produce in her a concert pianist without peer. Clara had begun
her formal study of piano at the age of five, and was soon exposed to
her father's sense of discipline; by 1828, she had an hour lesson daily,
and was practicing three hours each day. At the time of Schumann's
Entry of July 1828 in Ibid., p. 97.
Letter of 12 February 1838 to Clara Wieck in Cl/Rob I, p. 102.

University Years 23
meeting with them, Clara was preparing for her initial appearance that
October at a Gewandhaus concert (as an assisting artist).
Wieck seemed to live through his daughter, controlling her life and
basking in her glory. Much the same could be said of his relationship
with Clara's mother, a gifted singer and pianist twelve years younger
than Wieck. But she found life with him to be unbearable, and filed
for divorce when Clara was five. Like Schumann, Clara maintained a
diary, but hers was written under her father's supervision. A number of
the entries were actually written by Wieck, under the pretense they
were his daughter's words. "Father arrived by express coach at seven in
the evening," reads one entry in Wieck's hand, "I flew into his arms
and took him right to the Hotel Stadt Frankfurt." Just nine days after
Clara's successful debut at the Gewandhaus, she (if not at Wieck's dictation, then under his watchful eye) wrote in the diary: "My father,
who long had hoped for a change of disposition on my part, observed
again today that I am just as lazy, careless, disorderly, stubborn, disobedient, etc. as ever, and that I am the same in my piano playing and
my studies."'3 Had this been a tale by Hoffmann, Clara would have
been exposed as an automaton with Wieck as her demented creator. In
actuality, Wieck was to become Schumann's piano teacher and, after
years of struggle to gain her hand, Clara was to become Schumann's
wife.
From the start, Schumann was very much impressed with Wieck and
his gifted pupil. By August he was taking occasional piano lessons from
Wieck and visiting his home regularly. It was a valuable opportunity to
come into contact not only with the leading musicians of Leipzig
many of whom frequently met at Wieck'sbut with important musicians visiting Leipzig as well. Wieck was forty-three when he and Schumann met. He had been settled in Leipzig for about a dozen years, and
was owner of a piano store and music shop. Primarily self-taught as a
musician, he was fascinated by the many piano instruction courses and
methods fashionable at the time. Unfortunately, the precise nature of
Wieck's approach is not known. To his pupils he emphasized the close
Entry of 17 June 1834 quoted in Nancy B. Reich, Clara Schumann: The Artist and the
Woman (Ithaca, New York, 1985), p. 43.
Entry of 20 October 1828 in Ibid., p. 55.

24 S C H U M A N N

connection between good piano playing and singing (bel canto). The
ultimate goal for his students was for them to attain "pure, precise,
equal, clear, rhythmical, and, finally, elegant playing" I4 an approach
that would appear to owe more to the eighteenth century than to the
flamboyant virtuosity of the 1830s and 1840s.
It is not certain how frequently Schumann studied piano with
Wieck; the diary only lists about a half dozen lessons from mid-August
1828 until early May 1829 (at which time Schumann left Leipzig). It is
quite likely that not all of his lessons with Wieck were noted, but, as
in his study of law, Schumann's attendance was far from regular. What
is clear about the course of study is that Wieck began with elementary
instruction. Flechsig, Schumann's roommate at the time, recalled that
Schumann "had to work on finger exercises again like a beginner."15
But time was spent as well studying specific compositions, including
challenging works such as the first movement of Hummel's Piano Concerto op. 85.
Although Wieck's approach must have been discouraging at first,
Schumann continued to broaden his knowledge of music by learning
more of the repertory. In November 1828 he formed a chamber group
with himself as pianist and other students playing violin, viola, and cello
as needed. Wieck and Dr. Carus often attended the performances of
the group, which continued until March 1829. According to Schumann's diary, there were seventeen meetings in all. In November much
time was spent on the chamber music of Prince Louis Ferdinand, including the Piano Quartet op. 6 and the Notturno op. 8. In December,
they played through Schubert's Piano Trio op. 100. In all, thirty works
were examined.
These performances provided stimulus for Schumann to compose, a
sight not easily forgotten. Flechsig recalled:
I still see him. . . . Since he continually smoked a cigar, the smoke always
got in his eyes. So with his mouth and the cigar pointing upwards as much
as possible, he squinted downward at the keyboard, making truly extraordinary grimaces. The cigar was an additional annoyance. He liked to whistle
14

Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 65.

Flechsig, p. 393.

University Years 25
or hum the melody he was composing, and to do this with a cigar in one's
mouth is pretty much impossible.

In March 1829, Schumann completed his most ambitious work to

date, a Piano Quartet in C minor (WoO 32). As he neared the end of
his first year of study in Leipzig, it remained his most notable accomplishment. Study of law was only a pretense, but one that it would have
been disastrous to abandon. From the time of his arrival in Leipzig,
Schumann had expressed interest in transferring to the University of
Heidelberg in Baden. The university's primary attraction to Schumann
\vas the presence there of Gisbert Rosen. But Schumann's mother
convinced by her son's reference to the distinguished law faculty in
Heidelbergagreed to the change. If Schumann were to practice law
in Saxony, he would need to complete his study in a Saxon university.
It was decided that he would study in Heidelberg for one year, beginning in May 1829.
In April, Schumann prepared for the move, returning to Zwickau
on the i fth. Plans for the trip itself became more elaborate, and it was
decided to visit Frankfurt and explore for a week the Rhine, before
traveling on to Heidelberg. Amid details of a round of parties and balls,
he informed Rosen that he had performed as part of a concert in
Zwickau (probably performing Moscheles's Alexander Variations op. 32
and the first movement of Hummel's Piano Concerto op. 85).
Schumann arrived in Frankfurt on 13 May, and spent several days
there, examining the sights. He then traveled to Wiesbaden and through
the Rheingau, including stops in Cologne, Mainz, and Mannheim.
Above all, he reveled in the beauties of the Rhine, -which he described
as "very romantic."17 On first nearing it, he closed his eyes in order
better to be overwhelmed by the sudden spectacle of its splendor: "It
lay before mecalm, peaceful, stern, and proud, like an old German
god, and with it the magnificent, green Rheingau with its mountains
and valleys in blossom and the whole paradise of vineyards."1 It goes
without saying that fruit of the vineyards was sampled, Schumann professing a strong inclination for Rudesheimer.
16

18

Ibid., p. 394.
Entry of 17 May in Tgb I, p. 48.
Letter to his mother of 25 May 1829 inJS, p. 150.

26 S C H U M A N N

In addition to the scenic splendor, Schumann took delight in several

of his fellow travelers. He was much taken with a jovial major who
claimed to have been an adjutant for one of Napoleon's most colorful
marshals, Joachim Murat. More significant was Schumann's association
with Wilhelm Haring, whom he met on the way to Frankfurt. Haring
wrote under the pseudonym Willibald Alexis, and was a well-known
author of both fiction and poetry. Walladmora novel that he published
in 1824 under the guise of it being a translation of Walter Scotthad
been his first successful work. When Alexis revealed himself as the author (and followed it with another in Scott's styleSchloss Avalon,
1827), his popularity was assured.19 Alexis was traveling to Paris, and
despite the difference in age (he was twelve years Schumann's senior),
he and Schumann got along extremely well. They saw Frankfurt and
much of the Rhine together, before separating at Coblenz. In writing
home, Schumann made a point of describing his new friend, clearly
flattered by both his celebrity and literary accomplishments.
The trip concluded in what was to become the usual manner for
trips undertaken by Schumann during his youth. Arriving in Mannheim, Schumann realized that he had overspent and did not have
enough money left to purchase the coach fare to Heidelberg. As a result,
he was obliged to walk to Heidelberg (about twelve miles), arriving
there on the 21st, where he was welcomed by Rosen "with open
,,20
arms.
Heidelberg is a city closely associated with German Romanticism.
In the first decade of the nineteenth century, it had been home to
Clemens Brentano and Achim von Arnimboth were authors admired
by Schumannand much of their Youth's Magic Horn (Des Knaben Wunderhorn) had been edited there. Joseph von Gorres and Brentano's sister,
Ironically, Walladmor became so popular that there was demand for it in England as well.
Thomas De Quincey was paid to prepare a translation of it, but he was convinced that Scott
could not be the author of what De Quincey considered to be a wretched work. De Quincey
expressed his disdain for the project by noting on the title page that his edition of Walladmor
was " 'Freely translated into German from the English of Sir Walter Scott' and now Freely
translated from the German into the English,"
20
Tgb I, p. 49. Schumann's friendship with Rosena more lively and worldly companion
than Flechsigbecame close during Schumann's residence in Heidelberg. But it was not an
enduring one. Unlike the association with Flechsig, Schumann and Rosen drifted apart after
Schumann left Heidelberg.

University Years 2J
Bettina, had been part of this literary circle, whose most fascinating
creation had been the short-lived Zeitung fur Einsiedler (Newspaper for
Hermits). In addition to its literary associations, Heidelberg was a city
of elegance and charm, not far from the Rhine, and situated on the
Neckar River with magnificent views of neighboring hills. No complaints are heard from Schumann on the ugliness of the countryside.
"Here," he wrote to his mother, "it is as if one were living in Provencethe air seems scented and filled with music."21
His correspondence gives the impression that at first Schumann benefited from the change. He soon reported to his mother that his law
classes were excellent and that he "now appreciated the true value of
law, in that it promoted all venerable and noble interests of humanity."
For the first time, there seemed to be a commitment to his studies, and
throughout his stay in Heidelberg Schumann continued to affirm his
industry. To his brother Carl, he offered his daily schedule: he rose each
day at four and studied law until eight. From eight to ten he played
the piano, followed by one segment of classes until noon, and another
from two to four. He was strong as well in his praise of Rosen with
whom he quickly reestablished a rapport. This led in the spring of 1830
to an invitation from Rosen's brother to visit him in England, a trip
Schumann wanted very much to take, no doubt envisioning it as a kind
of grand tour similar to that which was part of a gentleman's education
at the time. Schumann did not make the tripemphasis surely was
placed on the need for him to complete his educationbut later in life
he contemplated visiting England on several occasions. He was charmed
by the English, briefly studied the language, and willingly admitted a
fascination for English ladies.
But Schumann's assertions to his family of hard work and dedication
to study were far from the truth. Although it appears that he was more
regular in attending law classes, extracurricular activities consumed
much of his time. There were trips to nearby towns, including a fourday trip to Baden-Baden in July where Schumann's friends (not himself,
so he claimed) enjoyed themselves at the roulette table. And he not
infrequently drank to excess, culminating in a period in February 1830
Letter to his mother of 17 July 1829 in JS, p. 161.
Letter of 17 July 1829 in JgBr, p. 62.

28 S C H U M A N N

that he referred to as the "most debauched week of my life."23 Such

conduct was not a matter of pride with Schumann, and on occasion he
made a point of noting his disgust: "My loathsomenessdrunk out of
boredomvery highmy longing to plunge into the Rhine."24 His
need for more money remained a problem as well, yet he refused to
accept responsibility for his spendthrift ways. University life and the
resulting high cost of living were, Schumann maintained, the basis of
his financial difficulties.
The ambition that had struck Flechsig so forcefully seven years earlier
was little in evidence. Delighted by his freedom and the opportunity
to determine his own conduct in life, for a time Schumann simply
"wanted to enjoy himself, and evidently was in no mood to be concerned with the future. Yet it seems likely that after settling in Heidelberg Schumann made a sincere, though rather short-lived, attempt
to devote himself to the study of law. Heidelberg possessed two outstanding jurists on the faculty, Karl Joseph Mittermaier and Anton
Friedrich Justus Thibaut. Thibaut's reputation extended throughout
Germany; he had worked consistently against the reactionary spirit of
the day and had advocated significant changes in civil law supportive
of individual rights. Schumann registered for classes with both Mittermaier and Thibaut, but Thibaut became a favorite. His classes were
known for being lively and interesting. When they first met on 25 May
(Thibaut was fifty-seven at the time), Schumann noted his
"friendliness."25
It was not Thibaut's expertise in law, however, which drew Schumann closer to him. In 1825, Thibaut had published a small book, Purity
in Music. It became a popular work, and one that Schumann regarded
highly. It is strongly opinionated: the work of a dilettante and amateur,
but one with a deep love of and reverence for music. Thibaut championed music of the pastparticularly compositions of the Renaissance
and Baroque, works for the most part unknown at the time to the
general public. To Thibaut the finest types of music were those in a
23

24

Tgb I, p. 226.

18 March 1830 in Ibid., p. 236.

25 .,
Ibid., p. 50.

University Years 29
"strict church style, compositions in the oratorio style . . . and . . . select
national songs [folksongs] of all lands." Contemporary music he found
contrived and mannered, and criticized it relentlessly, describing it as
"sensational, ill-formed, absurd, and vile."27 Bachwhose chromaticism was not to Thibaut's likingwas chastised for his "florid partwriting." Schumann acknowledged the flaws in Thibaut's approach
what he described as Thibaut's "narrow-minded" and "pedantic
view"29but recognized as well his noble intentions.
For his mother, Schumann had nothing but praise for Thibaut: "Thibaut is a splendid and excellent man. The hours I have spent with him
have been my most enjoyable."30 But the hours that Schumann was
referring to were probably not those spent in the classroom, but rather
those spent in Thibaut's home where Schumann occasionally attended
performances of works that Thibaut prepared and conducted. The compositions selected included little-known works by Durante, Leo, Marcello, Palestrina, and Vittoria, among others. Handel was a particular
favorite; Bachas might be expected given Thibaut's criticism of him
was performed infrequently.
Schumann was by no means a regular visitor to Thibaut's home. And
he admired not so much the accuracy and precision of the performancesThibaut was not an accomplished musicianbut the spirit imparted to them:
When he performs a Handel oratorio at his home [Schumann is referring
to a performance he attended of the first part of Samson] . . . and in a rapture
accompanies at the piano, two big tears roll down from the fine, large eyes
beneath his beautiful, silvery hair. Then he comes to me filled with joy and
delight, and presses my hand and is silent from sheer emotion. I often don't
understand how a beggar like myself has the honor to be admitted to listen
in such a sacred house.
A. F. Thibaut, Purity in Music (London, [1882]), p. 102.
27 ..
Ibid., p. 5.
28
Ibid., p. n.
29
Letter to Wieck of 6 November 1829 inJgBr, p. 81.
Letter of 24 February 1830 inJS, p. 191.
31...
Ibid., pp. 191-92.

3O S C H U M A N N

Franz Brendel, who knew Schumann well in the 18305 and 18405,
described Schumann's association with Thibaut as having "the first substantial and persistent effect on his inner life."32 Perhaps Brendel was
unaware of the intensity of Schumann's earlier interest in Jean Paul and
Schubert. Stilland despite the fact that the influence of Thibaut diminished in timehis effect on Schumann was considerable. Although
he acknowledged the danger of Thibaut's narrow conservatism, he came
to representin Schumann's eyesboth the vitality of tradition in music and a transcendent love for music itself. Thibaut could have become
as well an example of how devotion to music and the law could exist
alongside one another; but Schumann perceived that Thibaut lacked
technical music expertise, which may have indicated to him that mastery in music could not be attained if it were treated as little more than
a hobby.
Heidelberg's proximity to Switzerland and Italy tempted a number
of the students at the university to travel there when classes were not
in session. Schumann was eager to make the trip. To his mother, he
wrote of the ideal opportunity the trip would afford to improve his
grasp of foreign languages, essential knowledge, Schumann claimed, to
get ahead in the world. In a skillful attempt at manipulation, should the
money for the trip not be available, Schumann threatened to borrow
it himself at 10 percent interest, though he hoped that "it would not
come to that."33
The itinerary included stops in Switzerland (Basel, Zurich, Lucerne,
Interlaken, Thun, and Bern) as well as northern Italian cities, such as
Milan, Brescia, Verona, Vicenza, Padua, and Venice. As preparation for
the journey he read Petrarch and Alfieri. Schumann had intended making the trip with Rosen and another friend, Moritz Semmel (a fellow
student at both Leipzig and Heidelberg whose sister, Therese, was married to Schumann's brother, Eduard), but in the end was obliged to
travel by himself. Although no notable fellow traveler such as Willibald
Alexis was encountered, Schumann had a marvelous time. He reveled
in the grandeur of the Alps:
Franz Brendel, "Robert Schumann's Biographic von J. W. von Wasielewski," Neue Zeitschriftfur Musik XXIV (1858), p. 160.
Letter to his mother of 3 August 1829 inJS, p. 165.

University Years 31
From Zurich I went on foot over the Albis to Zug. I wish you had a map
in hand while reading all my descriptions, so as in a way to travel along
with me. My walk was splendid, and, because of the ever-changing beauty
of nature, not at all tiring. I wandered on alone, my knapsack on my back
. . . constantly stopping and looking around in order to impress indelibly
upon my memory this Alpine paradise.

Mindful of his role as a tourist, he saw a variety of sights, including

Leonardo's Last Supper (a disappointment to him), and the battlefield of
Marengo, site of Napoleon's victory over the Austrians in 1800. Nearly
everything about the trip appeared to enchant him. Italian girls he
found beautiful. The Italian language itself he described as "unending
music"(i6 September 1829). Inspired, he continued reading his Petrarch
and bought an edition of Dante.
Schumann was not an admirer of Italian music, but to Wieck he
reported a highlight of the trip: hearing the great soprano, Giuditta
Pasta, at La Scala in an opera by Rossini. "In the Leipzig Concert Hall
I have sometimes thrilled with rapture and awe in the presence of the
genius of music; but in Italy I learned to love it; and there is just one
evening in my life when it seemed to me as if God stood before me
and let me look openly and hushed upon His facethat was in Milan
when I heard Pasta and Rossini."35 A wonderful experiencebut perhaps just a figment of Schumann's imagination. His diary makes no
reference to the event, and Pasta does not appear to have performed in
Milan during Schumann's visit. It would not have been out of character
for him to have concocted the incident to impress Wieck.
Schumann ran out of money during the trip and had to borrow both
in Italy and from the Kurrers in Augsburg in order to have enough to
return to Heidelberg. He arrived there on 20 October, excited and
tired from the trip. Perhaps he felt somewhat disappointed as well.
Compared to Italy, Heidelberg had little to offer musically. "There is
much love for music here," Schumann wrote to Wieck not long after
his return, "but little talent."3 That in itself could be to Schumann's
advantage. In the active and competitive musical environment in
34

36

Letter to his mother of 31 August 1829 in Ibid., pp. 16768.

Letter of 6 November 1829 inJgBr, p. 81. Translated in Niecks, pp. 8990.
Letter of 6 November 1829 in Ibid., p. 79.

32 S C H U M A N N

Leipzig, Schumann's skills had appeared inconsequential. In Heidelberg,

he soon developed a reputation as one of the finest pianists in the area.
Despite assurances to his mother that he played "seldom and very
poorly," he continued to practice.37 A concentrated period commenced
in late December 1829 as preparation for a public performance of Moscheles's virtuosic Alexander Variations for the Heidelberger Musik-Verein,
a primarily student-managed organization. By Schumann's own
account, it was overwhelmingly successful. More important, the acclaim
for his performance provided stimulus for his work as a composer. During his residence in Heidelberg, Schumann contemplated adapting his
Piano Quartet into a symphony, and sketched a number of works for
piano, including an early version of what would later be published as
the Toccata op. 7, dances that would become part of Papillons op. 2,
and portions of his first published work, the Theme sur le nom "Abegg"
vane, pom le pianoforte op. i.
It was around this time that Schumann made an attempt at selfevaluation, striving for objectivity by referring to himself in the third
person:
I would not reckon him among ordinary men. . . . His temperament is melancholy, more sentimental than contemplative, more subjective than objective. ... A powerful imagination. . . . needing external stimulus. . . .
Discernment, wit, reflective thoughtnot strong. More emotional than
intellectualleaning towards the artistic rather than the speculative. Distinguished in music and literature. Not a musical genius. His talent as musician
and poet are on an equal level.

The portrait is that of the Romantic par excellenceoriginal, melancholy, emotional, imaginative, subjective, neither a logician nor a
rationalist. That Schumann perceived himself in that manner is not surprising. What is surprising is the statement: "Not a musical genius." In
contrast to the achievements of Schubert and Prince Louis Ferdinand
probably the two composers whom he most admired at this time
Letter to his mother of II November 1829 in JS, p. 182.
Tgb I, p. 242. Schumann assigned no particular date to this entry. It probably dates from
the spring or summer of 1830, or possibly to late 1829.

University Years 33
Schumann may have felt that he had accomplished little. Of particular
interest is Schumann's continued reference to his literary abilities. But
againbecause he rated his abilities as both poet and musician
equallyhe appears to have believed that he lacked genius as a writer
as well.
While concerning himself with music in both Leipzig and Heidelberg, Schumann's interest in literature and in writing had remained
keen. The diary that he began at the commencement of his college
study he entitled Hottentottiana, an arcane and whimsical title in the
manner of Jean Paul. Hottentottiana, while containing a record of many
of his daily activities, was perceived by Schumann as a literary exercise,
and contained thoughts and observations, as well as excerpts for his
Juniusabende and Seleneboth works of fiction in the style of Jean Paul.
But while Schumann displays in his writings facility and skill, one looks
in vain for the originality that was beginning to make its appearance in
the works he was composing for piano.
Schumann felt the need to evaluate himself at a time when it was
becoming necessary to think about the future. He must have realized
that his situation was precarious. The pretense of law study could not
be maintained indefinitely; his deception would end if he were unable
successfully to complete his study in Heidelberg. In the spring of 1830,
he wrote to his mother asking that his stay there be extended for six
months, a request that she granted. Two events, however, directed
Schumann toward adopting music as his profession.
On the day before Easter Sunday 1830, he traveled to Frankfurt to
hear the violinist Niccolo Paganini. Paganini, without question the most
flamboyant virtuoso of his day, was then at the height of his success.
His technique dazzled and astounded those who heard him, including
seasoned musicians. For Schumann, Paganini's performance on 11 April
was a revelation. Although disturbed by Paganini's showmanshipthe
beginning of Schumann's questioning of the role of virtuosityhe was
enthralled by his artistry and musicianship. Paganini's performance had
a profound effect on him. At about the same time the German violin
virtuoso Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst came to Heidelberg as part of his first
concert tour. According to one of Schumann's friends at the time, Ernst
and Schumann got along well (Schumann was actually four years older

34 ' S C H U M A N N

than Ernst), leading to a relationship thatcoupled with Schumann's

own recent success as a performerseems to have prompted him seriously to consider music as a career.
For a while during the summer there was a return to the old way
of life, including requests for more money and a complaint about the
cold study of law. Then, on 30 July, he rose early and wrote a letter to
his mothera letter intended not just for her eyes, but probably written
with studied deliberation for the eyes of posterity as well:
Heidelberg, July 30, 1830
5 o'clock
Good morning, Mother!
How can I describe to you my happiness at this moment! The coffee is
brewing, and the sky is pure and golden enough to kissand the whole
spirit of the morning is calm and fresh. There is sufficient sunshine and
blue sky in my life at present . . . still, sometimes I get truly concerned when
I think about myself. My entire life has been a twenty-year struggle between
poetry and prose, or call it music and law. ... In Leipzig I gave little
thought about a plan for my life, but dreamed and dawdled, and in essence
accomplished nothing substantial; here I have worked more, but in Leipzig
and here I have always felt myself more fervently and more ardently attached
to Art. Now I stand at the crossroads, and I am startled by the question:
what direction shall be taken? If I follow my genius, it directs me to Art,
and, I believe, the right path. But truly (do not take offense, and I say it
to you softly and only with affection) it always seemed to me that you were
obstructing my way there, for -which you had your good, motherly reasonsreasons which I also understood quite well, and which you and I
called the "precarious future and uncertain means of support" . . . [But I]
am certain that, since the whole of piano playing is pure mechanics and
dexterity, with diligence and patience and the guidance of a good teacher,
within six years I will be able to compete with any piano player; now and
then, I also have imagination and perhaps talent to create my own
works. . . .
If I continue to study law, it is essential that I remain here one more
winter, in order to study pandects with Thibautwhich every lawyer must
study with him. If I were to continue with music, then unquestionably I
have to leave here and return to Leipzig. Wieck in Leipzigto whom I

University Years 35
wholly and willingly entrust myself, and who knows me and is able to
judge my abilitywould then have to train me further. Later I would have
to go to Vienna for a year and, if at all possible, study with Moscheles.
Now a request, my good mother, which perhaps you will willingly grant
me. Write to Wieck at Leipzig and ask candidly what he thinks of myself and my
plans for the future. . . . If you wish, enclose this letter with your letter to Wieck.
You can see that this letter is the most important one I have written and
will ever write. For that very reason, grant my request not unwillingly and
answer me soon. There is no time to be lost.

It is unfortunate that no preliminary drafts for the letter have survived,

for it is a letter that Schumann probably labored over. On the surface,
it appears remarkably frank and openparticularly the reference to
having "dreamed and dawdled" while in Leipzig. But did Schumann
actually believe that piano playing consisted solely of "pure mechanics
and dexterity," or was he more interested in deceiving his mother? Had
Wieck been consulted in advance about Schumann's idea? The implication is that he was not, and that he was now being called upon to
serve as an impartial judge of Schumann's ability. But not to have sought
Wieck's opinion on the matter would have been foolhardy, if for no
other reason than to determine whether he had the time to work with
Schumann.
Schumann's letter created consternation at home. His brothers and
Rudel strongly opposed the change of career, and their position is understandable. Schumann had been pampered, humoredin many ways,
spoiled. The only member of his family to attend a university, he had
been fully supported financially not just in his studies but in travels in
Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. None of these privileges had been
granted to his brothers. Now he was willing to discard what was perceived as years of work and what appeared to be a sure means of earning
a livelihood in order to pursue an uncertain career in music.
Christiane Schumann was alone in supporting her son, although it
is clear that she felt he was making a mistake. To abandon law at this
stage of his career was not in her mind either a mature or rational mode
39

re-

JS, pp. 200,

201,

202,

203.

36 S C H U M A N N

of behavior. Butmore than anything elseshe wanted to see him

happy. Since music seemed of such importance to him, she did not
want to stand in his way. She wrote to Wieck with considerable apprehension, enclosing her son's letter.
Ah, I can't tell you how overwhelmed and melancholy I am when I think
of Robert's future. . . . Now he suddenly wants to adopt a profession which
he should have taken up ten years ago. . . . My other three sons are dissatisfied and insist that I should not give in. I am the only one who does not
want to force him in a direction where his own feelings do not lead him.
. . . Everything depends on your decisionthe peace of mind of a loving
mother, the entire happiness of a young, inexperienced person who lives
purely in higher spheres and does not wish to enter into the practical matters
of life.40
Wieck replied quickly, eager to set her mind at ease. In his usual manner, he wrote bluntly, and with more than a touch of arrogance:
Let your son leave Heidelberghis imagination becomes heated there
and return to cold, flat Leipzig. ... I pledge within three years, by means
of his talent and imagination, to make your son Robert into one of the
greatest pianists now livingwith more warmth and spirit than Moscheles,
and more nobility than Hummel. Proof of this I present to you with my
eleven-year-old daughter.
But Wieck also expressed serious reservations, and made his acceptance
of Schumann as a pupil conditional. To begin with, Wieck asked that
Schumann study with him for one year, although six months might be
sufficient to determine Schumann's resolve. For Schumann's resolve
his commitment to hard work and dedication to learningwas what
Wieck doubted.
Has our charming Robert changed and become more sensible, firmer,
forceful and, may I say it, more practical and mature? From his letters, this
does not appear to be the case. . . . My dear frienddo not worry. In such
40
4^

Letter of 7 August 1830 in Eismann, p. 62.

Letter of 9 August 1830 in Ibid., p. 63.

University Years 37
matters, compulsion is of little use. We want to do what we can as parents;

God does the r e s t . . . let him go in peace and give him your blessing.

Wieck's support was enough to convince Christiane Schumann to

permit her son to begin study with him. When he received word of
the decision, Robert was elated and wrote to his mother to justify her
decision: "Think of my father who early on understood me and intended me for Art or Music. . . . Mother, look deeply both within
yourself and myself, and ask yourself whether I could endure such
deadly monotony [the practice of law] for my entire life. Can you
picture me sitting in my office from seven in the morning until seven
in the evening?"43 And to his guardian, Rudel, he expressed his willingness to return to the study of law if need be ("If Wieck has the
slightest doubt after the six months, nothing will have been lost in the
study of law, and I am fully prepared to take my examinations within
a year"), but added: "Believe me, I was born to dedicate myself to Art,
and will remain true to it" (21 August 1830).
To Wieck, Schumann wrote in a humble manneras disciple to
masterand expressed his eagerness and determination to begin study:
"The path of Knowledge lies over the Alps and is a truly frigid one;
the path of Art has its mountains, but they are Indian, and full of
flowers, hopes, and dreams. ... I am brave, patient, trustworthy, and
eager to learn. I trust you completely and place myself in your hands.
Take me as I am, and in all matters be patient with me" (21 August
1830). While Wieck may have been pleased with his pupil's willingness
to begin study, he could not have failed to notice that youthful idealism
and exuberancenot maturity and reasonremained predominant.
Despite her decision, Christiane Schumann remained concerned,
hopeful for the success of her son's new venture, yet anxious and hesitant to believe that all would turn out well: "Take a look at how you
have acted since the death of your good father. You must agree that
you have lived only for yourself."44 There was justification for her concern. While she and Wieck were consulting about her son's future, he
was enjoying a four-day visit to Baden-Baden and Strasbourg. In
A.2,

43
44

Ibid., pp. 64, 65.

Letter of 22 August 1830 inJS, pp. 205, 206.
Letter of 12 August 1830 in Eismann, p. 65.

38 S C H U M A N N

Baden-Baden he once again met Ernst, and did not seem to be all that
concerned about the deliberations concerning his future. "Good food;
splendid sleep," he noted in his diary on 7 August.45 Even after the
decision had been made for Schumann to return to Leipzig and study
with Wieck, he procrastinated. He finally left on 24 September, but
not for Leipzig. As if to enjoy one last fling before settling down to
work, he traveled for the remainder of the month, with stops in Cologne and Miinster, as well as a visit with Rosen in his home in Detmold. It was not until late in October that Schumann moved into the
Wieck house as a boarder and began instruction.
Bitterness over the entire episode lingered. Although he remained
friendly with his brother, Carl Schumann so strongly opposed the
change to music that over the years he refused to permit any musical
instruments in his home. In giving her consent, even Christiane Schumann had been unable to conceal her distress: "Your brothers [and other
people in Zwickau] do not approve of your ideas on this matter. So
now you are left to handle the situation entirely on your own. May God
give you his blessing!!! That is my prayer and supplication for you."4
But Schumann did not stand alone as he made preparations to begin
his study of music. When he learned from Christiane Schumann of her
son's new choice of career, Johann Gottfried KuntschSchumann's
boyhood piano teacherwrote to express his support:
When I think of your splendid talent, your ardent love of music which
displayed itself so strongly from your earliest days, your lively imagination,
as well as the earnestness, zeal, and tenacity with which you tirelessly pursue
your goal. . . there can be no doubt that with such a splendid union of
qualities only the finest results can be expected. In you, the world will
number a great artist, and this Artto which you dedicate your lifewill
most certainly bring you fame, honor, and immortality. This, honored
friend, is my firm conviction.47

45

TgbI,p. 291.
46

Letter of 12 August 1830 in Eismann, p. 65.

Letter of 9 December 1830 in Wolfgang Boetticher, ed., Briefe und Gedichte aus dem Album
Robert und Clara Schumanns (Leipzig, 1981), p. 102.

C H A P T E R

Schumann and Literature

The greatest pleasure in life

is that of reading, while we are

young.
Hazlitt, "Whether Genius is Conscious of Its Powers"

OR MUCH OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY,

THE INTEREST

OF

composers not just in music but in all the arts was truly extraordinary. An interrelationship among the arts was commonly recognized.
"The well-educated musician," wrote Schumann, "can study a Madonna by Raphael, the painter a symphony by Mozart, with equal
benefit. Yet more: in sculpture the actor becomes a silent statue while
he brings the sculptor's work to lifethe painter transforms a poem
into an image, the musician sets a painting to music."1 Coupled with
a broad interest in the arts was a preoccupation with the "extramusical"
properties of music itself. It was a literary age, and program music
flourished. That may, to a certain extent, help explain the interest many
composers had in literature. Not a few were distinguished writers themselves: Berlioz as critic, essayist, and autobiographer; Liszt as critic and
essayist; Wagner as dramatist, essayist, and theoretician; and Weber as
critic and author of an unfinished novel.
"Aus Meister Raros, Florestans und Eusebius' Denk-und Dichtbiichlein," (c. 1833) in GS
I, p. 26.

39

40 S C H U M A N N

Yet Schumann's passion for writing and his enthusiasm for literature
set him distinctly apart. Until he was twenty, he was considering writing
as a career. His diary and letters confirm his intentions and reveal a
deliberately cultivated literary style. What makes Schumann's literary
interests particularly intriguing is the close association in his mind of
word with music. While still a student at the Lyceum in Zwickau,
Schumann wrote an essay: "On the Intimate Relationship between Poetry and Music." Although a juvenile effort with little original thought,
it indicates where his sympathies lay. In his diary for 1828, he wrote:
"Tones are words, but on a higher level. . . . Music is the higher power
of poetry; angels must speak in tones, spirits in words of poetry. . . .
Every composer is a poet, only at a higher level."2 It probably appeared
natural to Schumann to associate composers with writers. "When I hear
music by Beethoven," he noted, "it is as if someone were reading to
me a work of Jean Paul. Schubert reminds me of Novalis."3 Distinct
similarities did not serve as the basis of Schumann's reactions; the resemblance between Schubert and Novalis, for example, is hardly striking. It was because of his enthusiasm for particular authors and
composers that he was eager to couple them. This linking of poets and
composers, however, was subject to change: "When I play Schubert,"
he wrote to Wieck on 6 November 1829, "it is as if I were reading a
novel by Jean Paul."
During the 18205, music and poetry (word and tone) were interwoven for Schumann. It was a concept that, to a certain degree, he
retained for years: one of the tides considered for the Fantasie op. 17
(1836) was Dichtungen (Poems). Believing himself gifted both as a writer
and composer, the confusion and frustration he experienced in determining a choice of career could only have been compounded by the
intimate association he perceived between the two arts. "If only my
talents for poetry and music were concentrated in but one point," he
confided to his mother.5 It reveals much about Schumann that, in eventually choosing music as a career, in his own mind he was selecting an
Tgb I, pp. 96, 41.
Ibid., p. 97.
*JgBr, p. 82.
Letter of 15 December 1830 in JS, p. 213.

Schumann and Literature 41

art that he believed to be more elevated"at a higher level"than
poetry.
Schumann's love of the arts, and of literature in particular, owed
much to his father, particularly August Schumann's work as a writer.
Although he was a part-time writer, August Schumann was astonishingly prolific. It is possible to assign to him the authorship of nine
substantial works of fictionwell over four thousand pagesbetween
1793 and 1800. Publications after 1800 are more difficult to trace, but
at least three other novels appeared. His writings are representative of
the popular literature of the day, for which there was a growing demand
in the latter decades of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
Preferred settings were the Middle Ages, or exotic locales such as India;
there were inevitable struggles between good and evil, with often colorful villains and, working behind the scenes, secret societies
reminiscent of freemasonry. With their fantastical settings and fanciful
themes, novels of this type provided inspiration to writers such as Tieck,
Arnim, Hoffmann, and Jean Paul.
There are no references in Schumann's diary and published correspondence to his father's work. Of the leading writers of popular literaturesuch as Christian August Vulpius, Christiane Benedicte
Naubert, Heinrich Zschokke, or Carl Friedrich Grossemention is
made only of Zschokke. But it is inconceivable that Schumann was
unfamiliar with this more popular literature, including the work of his
father. Insatiable reader that he was, he would have encountered popular literature at an early age, probably during adolescence. That may
explain why his diary is silent on the matter: he did not begin keeping
a diary until 1827, at which time his interests were directed toward
more "serious" literature. That he was familiar with the popular literature of the day is best seen both in the style and content of his own
writings, and by his admiration for Jean Paulof all contemporary
German writers perhaps the one most strongly indebted to popular
literary styles.
Schumann's first efforts as a writer were poems. He began creating
them in his early teens, and included examples in the two anthologies
he assembled, Blatter und Bltimchen aus dergoldenen Aue (Leaves and Little
Flowers from the Golden Meadow) (1823) and the Allerley (Miscellany)
(1825-28). Yet another collection, Einzelgedichte (Detached Poems),

42 S C H U M A N N

primarily 1825-30, contained additional poetry, "polymeters" (poetic

aphorisms in the style of Jean Paul), and notes about composers. " 'Melancholy at Evening' was a poem where I first felt myself to be a poet,"
Schumann confided to his diary in 1828, "and tears came from my eyes
as I wrote it." Schumann's poetry from the time, however, is surprisingly stiff and conventional.
Although he continued to write poetry sporadically during his life
including the ballad "The Bell of Ivan Veliky" in 1844 during a visit
to Moscowhe wrote far more prose. His early prose attempts are also
derivative, and owe much to Jean Paul. The diary for August 1828
contains fragments from Juniusabende und Julitage, which he enthusiastically described as "my first work, my truest, and my most beautiful."7
That autumn, excerpts from Selene as well as ideas for its content appear
o
in the diary. Both works are in the style of Jean Paul (who also wrote
a Selena), and they bring to mind The Invisible Lodge, a work that itself
is much indebted to the popular literature of the day. Schumann worked
on Selene in November 1828 and had some unusual ideas for it: both
Jean Paul and Prince Louis Ferdinand were to appear as characters.
Drama interested Schumann as well. He wrote "robber plays" (a
popular genre of the time, owing much to the success of Schiller's Die
Rauber (The Robbers), and he acted in them. There are also references
in Schumann's diary to the creation of two tragedies, one based on the
life of Coriolanus and another on the political struggles of the Montalti
family in fourteenth-century Genoa. As late as June 1831, he completed
the first scene of a projected drama based on the story of Abelard and
Heloise.
In the 18305, much of Schumann's writing was music criticism, especially for his own paper, the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik (New Journal
for Music). But he still managed to find time to write fiction, although
his attempts remained unpublished and incomplete. In 1831, he began
work on a tale, "The Philistine and the Rascal King"; its title brings to
6

May 1828 in Tgb I, p. 76.

29 July 1828 in Ibid., p. 98. Nineteen pages of the work survive.

Only about six pages of this work (much of it strongly autobiographical in nature) are
extant.

Schumann and Literature 43

mind fairy tales by Hoffmann or EichendorfT. Of particular interest is
an eight-page fragment for a novel Schumann began at about the same
time: Die Davidsbund (The League of David). This appears to be the
same work referred to in his diary as "Wunderkinder," whose characters
were to include Paganini, Hummel, Wieck, and Clara, among others.
In many ways, Schumann's writing was a natural outgrowth of what
he read. His passion for readingno doubt encouraged by his father
began early. Over the years his diary, household books, and a special
"reading notebook" attest to the breadth of his reading. It is truly astonishing. His knowledge of European literature was comprehensive and
included not just poetry, drama, and fiction, but history and biography.
Of foreign literature, nearly all was read in German translation. Although in school and on his own he studied Latin, Greek, French,
Italian, and English, Schumann's grasp of foreign languages was limited.
From his study in school, Schumann acquired the expected familiarity with Roman and Greek classics, particularly Aeschylus, Euripides,
and Sophocles; in 1825 he tried his hand at translating Anacreon, Homer, and Horace. Among European writers, Schumann read Calderon,
Dante, Petrarch, Cellini, Pellico, Alfieri, Racine, Rousseau, Ponsard,
Hugo, Sand, and Suealthough contemporary French writing tended
to disturb him with what he perceived as its cheap sensationalism. Like
his father, he was fond of English writers, Byron in particular. Other
English writers with whom he was familiar include Goldsmith, Fielding,
Burns, Shelley, Moore, Macaulay, Scott, and Bulwer-Lytton. American
literature does not seem to have interested him greatly; he read Uncle
Tom's Cabin and Bracebridge Hall, but Cooperan author extremely
popular in Europe at the timeis surprisingly absent.
Contemporary German writers held the greatest attraction for Schumann. References to the works of Immermann, Grillparzer, Goethe,
Humboldt, Friedrich and August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Schiller, Tieck,
Hauff, Arnim, Brentano, Geibel, Morike, Uhland, Novalis, Platen, and
Chamisso, as well as lesser-known writers, such as Holty, DrosteHulshoff, Ernst Schulze, Heinse, Seume, Herwegh, and Gutzkow, are
found in Schumann's diary and household books. Frequently what he
read influenced his musical direction. His fondness for the poetry of
Justinus Kerner inspired his first songs (and in 1840 also served as the

44 S C H U M A N N

basis for the Zwolf Gedichte op. 35). In fact much of Schumann's reading
of German poetry was with an eye toward its suitability for setting to
music.
Friedrich Riickert was an early favorite, reverently described by
Schumann as a "beloved poet, a great musician in words and
thoughts."9 Schumann set more than four dozen of Riickert's poems
to music. His translations from Hariri (Riickert was an orientalist)
served as inspiration for the collection of Schumann's four-hand piano
pieces, Bilder aus dem Osten (Pictures from the East) op. 66; poems from
his Liebesfmhling (The Springtime of Love) were selected and set to
music by Schumann and his wife as a poetic and symbolic statement
shortly after their marriage in 1840 (published as op. 37). A copy of the
songs was sent to Riickert, who responded with a poem that delighted
Schumann.
Of the many poets whose work he set to music, Riickert may have
been Schumann's favorite. But because of the popularity of Schumann's
Liederkreis op. 24 and Dichterliebe (A Poet's Love) op. 48, the poetry of
Heinrich Heine is probably most closely associated with him. When
Schumann and Heine met in Munich in May 1828their only meetingSchumann had not set any of Heine's poetry and had yet to make
music his career. In May 1840the year in which Schumann wrote
most of his liederhe wrote to Heine in Paris (where Heine had
moved), enclosing several of his settings of Heine's poetry. Schumann
was hoping not only for a favorable reaction from Heine but to draw
closer to him. But Heine never responded, and Schumann was offended. Although he continued to read Heine's new works, he was
disgusted by Heine's Romanzeroprobably by what he perceived as the
excessively personal and often depreciative nature of the poetry in the
collection.
Also closely associated with Schumann is the poetry of Josef von
Eichendorff. Schumann's setting of selected poems by Eichendorff in
the Liederkreis op. 39 is one of remarkable sensitivity. Schumann described it as his "most Romantic" song cycle, a reference not to any
love interest within the poetry, but to the emotional and dramatic ing

Review published in 1840 of H. Esser's Lieder op. 6 in GS I, p. 496.

Schumann and Literature 45

tensity of many of the texts. He always seemed eager to meet those
poets whose writings he admired, curious to determine the association
between the artist and his work (the two, Schumann felt, were closely
related). He met EichendorfF on several occasions in January 1847. Eichendorff was twenty-two years older than Schumann, recently retired,
and with musical interests (he played the violin). But although he professed "delight" with Schumann's settings of his poems, no intimacy
resulted.
Schumann's meeting with Hans Christian Andersenanother writer
he greatly admiredwas more engaging, and it was one they both
remembered fondly. Andersen's reputation today is that of a writer of
fairy tales. During the nineteenth century, he was greatly esteemed not
just for his tales but for his novels, travelogues, and poetry. Schumann
seems to have read everything by Andersen he could get his hands on,
invariably with great enjoyment. By nature, Andersen was open and
kindly. He was fond of music, and counted among his friends several
composers. In 1842 Schumann dedicated and sent to Andersen a copy
of his Fiinf Lieder op. 40 (which included in German translation four
settings of Andersen's poetry). Andersen was an inveterate traveler (he
never owned a home of his own), and in 1844, while traveling through
Germany, made a point of visiting Schumann in Leipzig. A memorable
evening resulted with performances of Schumann's Andersen songs as
well as readings by the poet. Schumann later wrote to Andersen describing the experience as "unforgettable" (14 April 1845), a response
shared by Andersen in his autobiography.
Just as Schumann was naturally drawn while reading poetry to
thoughts of a musical setting, his reading of dramas (and fiction in
general) often led to thoughts about the work's suitability as a basis for
opera. He completed but one opera, Genoveva, based on dramas dealing
with the Genoveva legend by Tieck and Friedrich Hebbel. The more
psychological setting of Hebbel particularly appealed to him. At first,
unsure of how to proceed, he wrote to Hebbel anxious for him to
collaborate on the libretto. Hebbel was three years younger than
Letter to Clara Wieck of 22 May 1840 in Wolfgang Boetticher, Robert Schumann in seinen
Schnften und Briefen (Berlin, 1942), p. 340.

4-6 S C H U M A N N

Schumann. Like Schumann, he had studied at the University of Heidelberg and had been befriended by Thibaut. But Hebbel's career had
been one of constant struggle. Genoveva was completed in March 1841,
but not published until 1843 and not performed until six years later.
Schumann's diary reveals his great admiration for him and his work.
Unfortunately, Hebbel did not respond in a similar manner. His knowledge of music was limited, and conservative (Mozart was his favorite
composer). When they met, he found Schumann to be quiet and excessively introverted. There was no collaboration. They kept in touch,
however, and in 1853 when Schumann dedicated and presented to
Hebbel his setting of Hebbel's Nachtlied, he responded with gratitude
and dedicated to Schumann his play Michael Angela, sending him the
manuscript of it.
What appeared to be of particular attraction to Schumann was the distinctive individuality of Hebbel's thought, often pervaded with a dark
pessimism and somber melancholy (a reflection perhaps of the extreme
poverty and depressing circumstances of much of Hebbel's life). Not long
after the completion of Genoveva in 1848, Schumann turned again to
Hebbel's work for the piano pieces, Waldszenen (Forest Scenes) op. 82.
For one of the pieces in the set, "Cursed Place," Schumann set the mood
by prefacing it with a short poem by Hebbel. It is a gruesome text, describing flowers "pale as death," with a single, dark red flower among
them, its color the result of having been nourished on human blood.
Those characteristics that attracted Schumann to the work of Hebbel
were traits that he found intriguing in literature in general. He was
intrigued by works of marked originality, and fascinated by those that
contained elements of the bizarre and unusual. That was particularly
true of Schumann's youthful interests. In 1828, during his first year of
university study at Leipzig, he discovered the controversial plays of
Christian Dietrich Grabbe. Although an admirer of Grabbe's skill as a
writer, Heine dryly noted in his work "a lack of good taste, a cynicism,
and a wildness that surpass the maddest and most abominable things
conceived by the human mind"precisely those traits that Schumann
probably found of interest.
Quoted in Alfred Bergmann, ed., Grabbe in Berichten seiner Zeitgenossen (Stuttgart, 1968),
p. 24.

Schumann and Literature 47

Schumann's curiosity about Grabbe extended both to his life and
work. The diary includes references to Grabbe's Marie und Nannette;
Comedy, Satire, Irony, and Deep Meaning; Marius und Sulla; Herzog Theodor
von Gothland (all read in 1828); and Hannibal (read in 1846). Gothland
made an unusually strong impression on Schumann, so much so that
nearly an entire page in his diary was devoted to thoughts about the
work. He discussed at length the plot, and concluded it was a "tragedy
without parallel, unique. ... It often brings to mind those bizarre traits
of Heine's Lieder, that burning sarcasm, that great despair."12 Schumann's
fascination with Grabbe led him in November 1828 to write to Gisbert
Rosenwho lived in Detmold, where Grabbe was then residingto
ask for information about him. Grabbe's life was in many ways a counterpart to the "wildness" noted by Heine in his writings. After Grabbe's
death in 1836, Schumann read with interest Karl Immermann's recollections of the dramatist.
Similar eccentricityin life, work, or a combination of the two
attracted Schumann to three other writers: Friedrich Holderlin, Heinrich von Kleist, and Nikolaus Lenau. Holderlin's popularity as a poet
was broadened by both the intensity of his writing and the sensationalized circumstances of his mental illness. Schumann knew Holderlin's
work well; as a mark of his esteem, several excerpts from Holderlin's
writings were used as the mottos Schumann placed at the head of each
issue of the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. He knew as well of his madness
and, according to Emil Flechsig, in the 18205 "spoke about it with fear
and awe."13 Although Holderlin had been diagnosed as being incurably
insane in 1807, Schumann's interest in him was no doubt stimulated by
the fact that a collected edition of Holderlin's poems had only recently
appeared in print for the first time (1826).
Kleist, too, was a tragic figure. He belonged to a distinguished Prussian military family, and his suicide in 1811 (at age thirty-four) had
created scandal not just in literary circles but in the upper society of
which he had been a part. His writing is unsettling, with characters
Entry for 31 October 1828 in Tgb 1, p. 129.
Emil Flechsig, "Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann," Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik CXVII
(1956), p. 396. From 1828 to 1835 Schumann kept a book of literary extracts suitable for
mottos (including those by Holderlin); it was nearly 250 pages in length.

48 S C H U M A N N

seeming to be always at the mercy of the whims and caprices of fate.

Schumann described Kleist's stories as "monstrous, but nonetheless very
interesting," and considered one of them ("Michael Kohlhaas," a remarkable tale of justice gone awry) as the basis for a possible opera
libretto.14 For Kleist's play, Katchen von Heilbronn, perhaps his most idyllic and conventional work, Schumann contemplated writing an
overture.
Like Holderlin and Kleist, Nikolaus Lenau suffered from depression
and mental instability. The last six years of his life were spent in an
asylum. Lenau's poetry is often pervaded by profound melancholy, a
trait that seemed to have particular appeal to Schumann. In 1838,
through a mutual friend, Schumann attempted to obtain some verse
from Lenau for the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. No new poetry by Lenau
appeared in the journal, but perhaps he never received Schumann's
invitation. It is unlikely that he would have turned down the opportunity: his interest in musicparticularly that of Beethovenwas
considerable.
Later that year when visiting Vienna (where Lenau resided), Schumann wanted very much to meet him, but was shy about doing so. "I
saw Lenau in a cafe, but did not speak to him," he noted in his diary.15
When Schumann was later presented to Lenau, he seemed pleased to
detect "a melancholy, very gentle and captivating look about his mouth
and eyes." Shortly after Lenau's death in 1850, Schumann offered as
a tribute his op. 90: settings of six of Lenau's poems with a brief requiem
added, all published with an unusually elaborate cover including depictions of a cross and funereal wreath.
Of the many German writers who interested Schumann, it was
E. T. A. Hoffmann and Jean Paul Richter who had the most profound
effect upon his work. Once again, it was the distinctive nature of their
writingboth in style and contentthat appear to have prompted his
initial attraction. The first extended reference to Hoffmann in Schumann's diary occurs in 1831, but at that point he had been familiar with
Hoffmann's writings for a number of years, having previously noted
27 and 30 August 1852 in Tgb II, p. 436.
Entry of October 1838 in Ibid., p. 74.
Entry of December 1838 in Ibid., p. 83.

Schumann and Literature 49

resemblances between Hoffmann's work and Schubert's. His reading of
Hoffmann found him in a strange frame of mind. 5 June 1831: "In the
evening read that damned E. T. A. Hoffmann. Klein Zaches [one of
Hoffmann's tales] and an ugly, loathsome idea as basis. . . . Concept for
a poetical biography of Hoffmann. . . . One can scarcely breathe while
reading Hoffmann. . . . Reading Hoffmann unceasingly. New worlds.
The Mines at Falun [another Hoffmann tale]. Opera text which greatly
inspires me."17
Hoffmann and Schumann had much in common. Both were gifted
in literature and music. Like Schumann, Hoffmann had been obliged
to study law. After completing his law study, attempts to make his living
as a writer, composer, and conductor were unsuccessful, and influential
friends secured for him a position as a judge. Although he never
achieved comparable recognition for his music, Hoffmann was a composer of considerable skill. It is worth noting that Schumann thought
enough of it to examine in manuscript the score for his opera, Aurora
(1812).
As a composer, Hoffmann's indebtedness to the music of others (particularly Mozart) is unmistakable. His short stories and novels, on the
other hand, are strikingly original: highly imaginative, visionary, and
often grotesque (which helps explain Schumann's reference to "an ugly,
loathsome idea" in "Klein Zaches"). In his use of the Marchenthe
cultivated, German version of a fairy tale for adultsHoffmann was
particularly adept, and created a world with a constant and dizzying
shift between fantasy and reality.
Hoffmann's most famous literary creation was the eccentric musician
Johannes Kreislergifted, temperamental, and at odds with the prosaic
life of his time, a personality not unlike that of Hoffmann himself.
Kreisler appears in two major works by Hoffmann: Kreisleriana (a collection of essays and tales), and Kater Murr, a novel left unfinished at
Hoffmann's death in 1822. Schumann, like a number of nineteenthcentury musicians, was particularly fond of Kreisler, in many ways the
Romantic musician par excellence. In an unusual indication of his regard
for the work, excerpts from Kreisleriana were published in the Neue
Zeitschrift fur Musik in 1834 and 1836.
IV

Entries of 5 and 6 June 1831 in Tgb I, pp. 336, 337.

50 S C H U M A N N

Inspired by Hoffmann's work, Schumann published his own Kreisleriana for piano (subtitled Fantasies) in 1838 as op. 16. It is likely as well
that Hoffmann's first published worka collection of tales entitled Fantasiestticke in Callots Mania (Fantasy Pieces in the Manner of Callot)
led to Schumann's title for his op. 12: Fantasiestucke. The Nachtstucke
(Night Pieces) op. 23 may similarly have been inspired by Hoffmann's
collection of stories, Nachtstuckealthough in this instance the word
was not unique to Hoffmann. In the 18303, Hoffmann consistently provided Schumann with a source of inspiration that led him to designate
compositions as musical counterparts to Hoffmann's work. One senses
as well that they were intended as homage to a writer whom he regarded with unusual affection.
Despite the measure of pride Hoffmann derived from the singularity
of his work, he willingly acknowledged the influence of one contemporary author: Jean Paul Richter. "Your works," he wrote to Jean Paul,
"have inspired my innermost being and influenced my development."19
It was a sentiment with which Schumann would have concurred. In
Schumann's eyes, no writer had so great an influence on his own life
and work.
Johann Paul Friedrich RichterJean Paul was his pen namewas
born in 1763, the son of a clergyman (who was, incidentally, a talented
musician). Like August Schumann, from an early age he showed a great
love for literature, becoming a voracious and not always discriminating
reader. At the age of fifteen, he began keeping a series of notebooks
filled with arcane material he had encountered in books, excerpts from
which invariably later found their way into his own writingoften as
amusing, erudite, and generally irrelevant footnotes to the text.
In 1781, Jean Paul entered the University of Leipzig as a student of
theology. But he had little money, did not enjoy his course of study,
and devoted much of his time to reading on his own. He remained for
only one semester. Determined to become a writer, he published anonymously his first book, Greenland Lawsuits, in 1783. It attracted little
The bizarre creations of the artist Jacques Callot (.15921635)particularly those in his
Caprici di diverse figure (1617)enjoyed renewed popularity during the nineteenth century.
Letter of 30 January 1822 in Johanna C. Sahlin, ed. & trans., Selected Letters of E. T. A.
Hoffmann (Chicago, 1977), p. 321.

Schumann and Literature 51

attention, and it wasn't until ten years later with the appearance of The
Invisible Lodge that he began to make a name for himself. Widespread
fame followed with Hesperus (1795), Siebenkas (Flower, Fruit, and Thorn
Pieces) (1797), and Titan (1803). A year after the publication of Titan,
Jean Paul settled in the small town of Bayreuth, where, despite the
rather peculiar nature of his writings, he led by all accounts a solidly
middle-class existence. One of the major attractions Bayreuth held for
him was the superior quality of its local beer. Before his death in 1825,
two additional novels appeared (both unfinished): Flegeljahre (Walt and
Vult) (1805) and The Comet (1822).
Today, Jean Paul is all but forgotten. During his life, and for about
a half century after his death, he was a writer of enormous popularity.
His fame extended well beyond Germany. To a great extent, the extreme sentimentality and emotional excess of his writings were a major
attraction. But his unique prose styletangled, prolix, and discursive
had many admirers. Thomas Carlyle, Jean Paul's most vocal partisan in
England, characterized it as "a perfect Indian jungle . . . nothing on all
sides but darkness, dissonance, confusion worse confounded. Then the
style of the whole corresponds, in perplexity and extravagance, with
that of the parts. . . . That his manner of writing is singular, nay in fact
a wild, complicated Arabesque, no one can deny."
Within Jean Paul's novelseach typically nearly a thousand pages in
lengthscenes of sentiment and emotion of an astonishing extravagance are commonplace. The beauties of nature are a frequent subject,
one in which Jean Paul gives free rein to exuberant, at times incomprehensible, descriptions teeming with fanciful metaphor. Jean Paul had
studied piano as a youth, and was particularly fond of music. It plays
an important role in his novels, frequently as a means of transporting
his characters beyond themselves:
Clotilda without any hesitating vanity consented to sing. But for Sebastian,
in whom all tones came in contact with naked, quivering feelers, and -who
could work himself into sadness at the very songs of the herdsmen in the
fieldsthis, on such an evening, was too much for his heart; under cover
of the general musical attentiveness, he had to steal out of the door. . . .
20

The Works of Thomas Carlyle (New York, 1897), XIV, p. 13. Carlyle s essay on Jean Paul
(from which this quotation is taken) was originally published in the Edinburgh Review in 1827.

52 S C H U M A N N

But here, under the great night-heaven, amidst higher drops, his own
can fall unseen. What a night! Here a splendor overwhelms him, which
links night and sky and earth all together; magic Nature rushes with streams
into his heart, and forcibly enlarges it. Overhead, Luna fills the floating
cloud-fleeces with liquid silver, and the soaked silver-wool quivers downward, and glittering pearls trickle over smooth foliage, and are caught in
blossoms, and the heavenly field pearls and glimmers. [. . . ] He glowed
through his whole being, and night-clouds must cool it. His finger-tips
hung down, lightly folded in one another. Clotilda's tones dropped now
like molten silver-points on his bosom, now they flowed like stray echoes
from distant groves into this still garden [. . . ] But it seemed to him as if
his bosom would burst, as if he should be blest could he at this moment
embrace beloved persons, and crush in the closeness of that embrace in a
blissful frenzy his bosom and his heart. It was to him as if he should be
over-blessed, could he now before some being, before a mere shadow of
the mind, pour out all his blood, his life, his being. It was to him as if he
must scream into the midst of Clotilda's tones, and fold his arms around a
rock, only to stifle the painful yearning.

The passion and sentiment displayed in Jean Paul's novels often appear alongside sinister and foreboding elements, including violence and
extravagant eroticism. In Titan, for example, the villainous Roquairol
assumes the identity of his best friend, Albano, in order to seduce Albano's fiancee. Roquairol then publicly reveals his act during the presentation of a play that he has written, at the conclusion of which he
kills himself on stagethe audience casually dismissing it all as an entertaining part of the drama itself. What contributes to the distinctiveness of Jean Paul's styleCarlyle's "perfect Indian jungle"is the
unpredictable association of macabre, often frightening occurrences
with scenes of overweening sentiment and sublime emotion.
As an additional means of disorienting the reader, there is Jean Paul's
singular sense of humor. He was a great admirer of Laurence Sterne, in
whose whimsy and caprice he discovered a kindred spirit. The first
Jean Paul, Hesperus, 2 vols., trans. Charles T. Brooks (Boston, 1865), I, pp. 118120. I have
used, whenever possible, nineteenth-century translations of Jean Paul, because these capturewith unusual successhis often convoluted imagery and syntax.

Schumann and Literature 53

chapter of Titancalled, incidentally, a "Jubilee" by Richter (chapters

as such rarely exist in his works)is fifty-six pages in length. It is
followed by what should have preceded it: a thirteen-page "Introductory Program to Titan." It is this juxtaposition of humor, sentiment,
and the bizarre, and the abrupt and unpredictable movement between
them that makes his work so disconcerting. Coupled with Jean Paul's
numerous asides and footnotes, a dualistic structure often results: the
plot itself, and the author's digressions, comments, and reaction to it.
Schumann's enthusiasm for Jean Paul first became apparent in the
summer of 1827. (Here again, the influence of his father is evident. Jean
Paul had been one of August Schumann's favorite writers.) In his diary,
his literary attempts, and in his letters, he imitated the style of Jean Paul,
emphasizing the excessive sentimentality and emotional extravagance
characteristic of him. The following example^found in both his diary
and in a letter to Flechsigis a typical tirade a la Jean Paul, and representative of Schumann at his most sentimental:
Oh friend! Were I a smile, I would want to hover about her eyes; were I
joy, I would skip lightly through her pulses; Yes!were I a tear, I would
weep with her; and if she then smiled once again, gladly would I die on
her eyelash, and gladlyyes, gladlybe no more.

Schumann's source of inspiration-in this instance he surpassed his

mentorcan be traced to a passage in one of his favorite novels by
Jean Paul, Flegeljahre:
Were I a star ... I would shine upon thee; were I a rose, I would bloom
for thee; were I a sound, I would press into thy heart; were I love, the
happiest love, I would dwell therein.23

Throughout 1828 and 1829, Schumann avidly read Jean Paul. He

was a sensitive and impressionable reader, and his diary documented
the often potent effect his reading had on him. 18 January 1829: "Bedtime reading: Jean Paul's Gianozzo [Comic Appendix to Titan] and
his life and deathpoor sleep." 25 January 1829: "Bedtime reading:
Tgb I, p. 69 and letter of July 1827 to Flechsig in JS, p. 109.
23

Jean Paul, Walt and Vult, or The Twins, 2 vols. (Boston, 1846), II, p. 32.

54 ' S C H U M A N N

Diocha from Nikolaus Marggraf [The Comet] by Jean Paulvoluptuous

sleep."24 Schumann's reaction to Siebenkds bordered on frenzy: "Siebenkas is frightful, but I would like to read it a thousand times more.
. . . [After reading it] I sat completely enraptured among the trees and
I heard a nightingale. But I didn't cry-and I struck out with my hands
and feet, because I felt so happy. But on the way home I felt as if I had
taken leave of my senses. I was in my right mind, but I still thought I
was not. I was actually crazy."25 "If the entire world were to read Jean
Paul," Schumann concluded, "it would become a better place, but unhappier. He has often nearly driven me mad, but the rainbow of peace
and of the human spirit always hovers gently above all tears, and one's
heart is marvelously exalted and gently transfigured" (5 June 1828).
At times, Schumann felt and acted as if he were living in a novel by
Jean Paul. In his diary he wrote: "[Moritz Semmel] said again how
much he would like to die. He was beside himself, and it was a scene
from Jean Paul."2 When during his visit to the Rhine in 1828, Schumann closed his eyes at the approach of the river in order to enjoy all
at once the magnificent spectacle, he was imitating the character Albano
in Titan who acted similarly when about to behold the beauty of Isola
Bella. And when in 1829 Schumann visited Italy, the sight of Isola Bella
was inextricably interwoven with thoughts of Titan. "Gran albergo al
lagoblissAlbano!," he wrote in his diary.27
Over the years Schumann's devotion to Jean Paul remained strong.
Selections from his writings were published in the Neue Zeitschrift fur
Musik, and excerpts frequently appeared as mottos for individual issues.
His exceptional interest in Jean Paul attracted attention. In 1839, the
composer Stephen Heller, also a devoted admirer of Jean Paul, enthusiastically wrote to Schumann: "Your compositions are Jean Paulish
Fruit, Bloom, and Thorn pieces, and Siebenkas, Schoppe-Leibgerber
(Euseb-Florestan), Lenette, Pelzstiefel, etc. are found note for note in
them. And because I love Jean Paul so deeply, I love you as well."
24

Tgb I, pp. 168, 170.

Entry of 29 May 1828 in Ibid., p. 83.

July 1828 in Ibid., p. 93.

27
7 September 1829 in Ibid., p. 255.
Letter of 18 September 1839 in Stephen Heller, Briefe an Robert Schumann, ed. Ursula

Schumann and Literature 55

To his fiancee, Schumann wrote expressing his delight that she was
reading Flegeljahre. But he warned her that on first reading all might
not be clear to her: "It is in its way like the Bible" (20 March 1838).
Within six weeks of their marriage, Schumann was reading Jean Paul's
Life ofFibel with her so that "for the first time she could better understand" Jean Paul.29 It was as if Schumann felt everyone should be familiar with Jean Paul, and was genuinely astonished when he learned
that was not the case. Emilie Steffen, a friend of the family in the 18405
and a piano student of his wife, recalled that "one day Schumann asked
her if she were studying Shakespeare and Jean Paul diligently, and
whether she knew Coriolanus and Siebenkas. On receiving a negative
answer, he looked at her with such surprise and at the same time so
kindly that she at once began to read, and was grateful to him ever
after."30
Although Schumann's affection for the work of Jean Paul remained
constant, over the years his admiration for another author whom he
had discovered during his youthWilliam Shakespearegrew. By the
18505, as maturity supplanted the enthusiasm of his youth, Shakespeare
became his favorite author. Schumann's admiration for Shakespeare coincided with a rediscovery and reevaluation of Shakespeare's work during the first half of the nineteenth century.
The interest of German Romanticism in Shakespeare did much not
only to broaden his international reputation but to place him on a
pedestal as possibly the greatest of all writers. During the eighteenth
century, Shakespeare had been perceived as at times tasteless and a bit
of a barbarian. But it was precisely his emotional "excess" and profusion
of lively action that appealed to nineteenth-century audiences. In Germany, the criticism and translations of Tieck and August Wilhelm von
Schlegel did much to promote Shakespeare's popularity. For the first
time, his works became available in uncut and truly poetic translations.
Schumann read Shakespeare throughout his life, singling out for
Kersten (Frankfurt, 1988), p. 142. Siebenkas, Schoppe, Leibgeber (not "Leibgerber"), Lenette, and Pelzstiefel are all characters in Flower, Fruit, and Thorn Pieces. Heller later wrote a
work for solo piano inspired by Jean Paul's novel (published as op. 82, and usually referred
to by the French title, Nuits blanches).
Entry for 2531 October 1840 in Tgb II, p. 118.
Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 250.

56 S C H U M A N N

praise his universality. But Shakespeare's skill at character development

probably provided a major source for Schumann's attraction. The first
mention of Shakespeare in Schumann's diary is of Hamlet. On 25 October 1828, Schumann saw the play, prompting a reading of it two days
later. The melancholy figure of Hamlet was one with particular appeal
in the nineteenth century, and in 1831 and 1832 Schumann considered
an opera on the subject, writing sketches for a "Sinfonia per il
Hamlet."31
Schumann's knowledge of Shakespeare's plays was extensive. In 1831,
he compiled (for reasons unknown) a listing of the female characters in
his dramas. Nine years later, while in negotiation to receive an honorary
doctorate from the University of Jena, Schumann, as an indication of
his accomplishments, offered to send to the university a study of Shakespeare and music. He received the degree shortly thereafter, and, except
for a four-page sketch, the study was not written. But it was an idea
that Schumann returned to later in the year, when in October he
marked passages in Shakespeare's works intending to use them as the
basis for an article on Shakespeare and music, probably for the Zeitschrift.
The direct influence of Shakespeare on his own compositions was
not inconsiderable. Schumann intended as a motto for the third Intermezzo (Rasch und wild) of the Novelletten op. 21 (1838) the opening lines
from Macbeth: "When shall we three meet again?/In thunder, lightning,
or in rain?". And he set to music the concluding song of the clown in
Twelfth Night. During his extensive search for a suitable subject for an
opera, Schumann considered The Tempest and Romeo and Juliet (in 1846
and 1850, respectively). Toward the end of his career, inspired by Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, he wrote a concert overture on the subject.
But probably the most intriguing of Shakespeare's influences on
Schumann is for a work never, as far as is known, even begun. On 4
July 1832, Schumann noted in his diary: "Why are there no operas
without texts; that would quite certainly be dramatic. There is much
for you in Shakespeare."32 Later in the month (or possibly in August),
Although the work was never completed, thematic material was later incorporated into
Schumann's Symphony in G minor.
32

TSbJ, p. 411.

Schumann and Literature 57

there is the cryptic entry: "The opera without a text."33 It was an idea
he returned to in December of that year in a letter to the music critic,
Ludwig Rellstab. But what Schumann meant remains unclear. Could
he have had in mind a programmatic, instrumental composition? Or
would singers have been involved? And, most interesting, how had this
idea been developed by Schumann from his reading of Shakespeare?
Beginning in April 1852 Schumann commenced a concentrated and
systematic rereading of Shakespeare's plays. The study took one year, a
time when he composed little and seemed particularly interested in
literary pursuits; during this same period he put together in book form
his music criticism. Schumann's reading of Shakespeare was part of a
larger project that was to occupy him intermittently until his death. It
necessitated rereading many of his favorite books, including a great deal
of Jean Paul in the summer and autumn of 1853. What Schumann had
in mind was an anthology of writings from celebrated authors from
antiquity to the present, an anthology devoted solely to excerpts from
their "work that dealt with music. It was to be called Dichtergarten (A
Poet's Garden). The possibility of finding a publisher for the work was
not great. Schumann had recently experienced considerable difficulty
in finding a publisher for his collected music criticism, for which there
would surely have been a broader market than for a specialized, literary
anthology. Yet, he worked extensively on the project, completing nearly
three hundred pages in manuscript. It was a labor of love, and the final
testament not just of Schumann's passion for literature but of his longabiding interest in the relationship between word and music.

33 . ,

Ibid., p. 412.

C H A P T E R

Commitment to Music

This is ultimately what it is like to be alone: you spin yourself

into the silk of your soul, you become a pupa and await the
metamorphosis, which is certain to come. While waiting, you live
on your past experiences and telepathically you live the lives of
others. Death and resurrection; being reared and trained for something new and strange.
Strindberg, Alone

HERE WAS NO MORE CRUCIAL TIME IN SCHUMANN'S LIFE

than the three-and-a-half years from October 1830 until the

spring of 1834the period of his apprenticeship as a musician. During
that time, he acquired what was to serve as the foundation for his skills
as a pianist and as a composer. But as his mother had noted to Wieck,
these were skills Schumann should have learned much earlier. He was
twenty years old and just beginning seriously to study musican unusually late start. In addition, he had received only grudging consent
to begin his new career. In time, his life became exceptionally stressful,
often because of his determination to accomplish as much as possible
in as short a time as possible. There were frequent personal crises and
setbacks as well. As a result, these years were among the darkest and
most challenging of Schumann's life.
He began his new career in a depressed and morose humor, the
58

Commitment to Music 59
lingering effect of the far from wholehearted support of his family. "My
heart," he wrote to his mother, "is dead and empty, like the future."1
Schumann eventually became a boarder at Wieck's home, where he was
to live for about a year. But the move to Wieck did not improve his
mood. To his mother, he described himself as often bored and feeling
little pleasure in life: "Of the old warmth and enthusiasm, only cinders
remain."
But despite his low spiritssome of which may have been an attempt to gain sympathythere is no indication that Schumann initially
felt pressured by the six-month trial period that had been agreed to.
Heinrich Dorn, who was shortly to become Schumann's theory and
harmony teacher, remembered him at the time as "a very handsome
young man, whose blue eyes squinted a bit [Schumann was nearsighted], but when he laughed, with roguish dimples."3 Unfortunately,
there is no diary to document Schumann's activities for the period from
October 1830 until May 1831. In later years he claimed to have practiced "more than six or seven hours daily."4 But his correspondence
reveals hardly strenuous activities. Piano practice does not appear to
have had a significant role. During his instruction with Dorn, he felt
that Schumann was "neglecting his piano playing."5
There is no reason to doubt, however, that at the commencement
of his study with Wieck, piano practice was a priority. It is unlikely
that Wieck would have tolerated any neglect of the instrument on
Schumann's part. Their relationship at the start appears to have been
cordial. But within weeks Schumann became dissatisfied and decided
to seek a new teacher: Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Kapellmeister in
Weimar. Compared to Hummel'sone of the most distinguished musicians of his dayWieck's credentials admittedly were inferior. But the
intended leap from Wieck to Hummel, although an ambitious move
on Schumann's part, was, given his own inexperience and anonymity, unrealistic. Schumann's dissatisfaction with Wieck could also be
Letter of 27 September 1830 inJS, p. 209.
2

Letter of 15 November 1830 in Ibid., p. 210.

From a letter of 7 September 1856 to Wasielewski, in Eismann, p. 74.

No date given. Ibid., p. 77.

Ibid., p. 74.

60 S C H U M A N N

perceived not as an indication of ambition but of fickleness. Prior to

accepting Schumann as a pupil, one of Wieck's major concerns had
been Schumann's irresponsibility and lack of commitment. By wanting
to leave when the trial period agreed to had hardly begun, Schumann
seemed to be both confirming Wieck's apprehensions and justifying
what Schumann's family had perceived as an immature and scatterbrained decision.
At the time, Hummel was nearing the end of an illustrious career.
He was regarded as the most gifted of Mozart's pupils. In 1804 (at the
age of twenty-six), he had become Kapellmeister to the Esterhazy familya distinguished position formerly held by Haydn. Fifteen years later
he assumed the musical direction at the court of Weimar, a post that
he retained until his death in 1837. Although active as a teacher of
piano, in the last eight years of his life Hummel cut back on the number
of his pupils (a fact of which Schumann was probably unaware).
Despite his age and what was perceived as his old-fashioned style,
Hummel continued to perform in public to acclaim. He was known
for the purity and clarity of his playing, characteristics he tried to instill
in his students. Wieck, on the other hand, preferred the style of John
Field (whom, incidentally, he had never heard). Field's compositions
(especially his nocturnes, which were very popular)) are characterized
by an expressive touch, rich in sonority. Wieck was preoccupied with
a bel canto approach to piano-playing as demonstrated in the title of
his only work on the subject, Klavier und Gesang (Piano and Song,
1853). Wieck's text, however, is a disappointment: chatty, padded, intended to be controversial (but, by 1853, dated). Little of a technical
nature is presented. Given his emphasis on bel canto, his preference for
Field's approachand dislike for what he perceived as Hummel's antiquarian stanceis not surprising.
Compared to Hummel, Field's method was more in sympathy with
the changing musical perceptions of the day; Chopin, for example, was
among the admirers of Field. In selecting Field as a model, Wieck
revealed his progressive tendencies. One would have thought that such
an approach would have found favor with Schumann. But to Schumann, Hummel's greatest attraction was neither his skill as a performerhe never heard him performnor skill as a composer, but his
celebrity.

Commitment to Music 6l
Over time, Schumann's relationship with Wieck continued to deteriorate. There can be little doubt that he felt neglected. Clara, as
Schumann was well aware, was Wieck's primary concern. Perfecting
her technique and establishing a career for her occupied much of his
time and energy. On 25 September 1831, Wieck took Clara on an
extended concert tour that included more than a half dozen German
cities, as well as a two-month stay in Paris. They did not return until
i May 1832, and during those seven months Schumann was on his
own. That may have been the primary reason why, for a year-and-ahalf, Schumann never really abandoned the idea of having Hummel as
his teacher.
From January 1831 until May 1832, in letters to friends and family
Schumann referred to his intention of studying with Hummel. During
that time, he had taken up the study of Hummel's Amveisung zum Pianofortespiel (1828), a practical guide to developing piano technique. It was
a text he had used previously (in February 1829 and later while a student in Heidelberg). In July 1831, he completed his study of it, copying
exercises from it into a sketchbook for more ready reference. While
busy studying them, he finally wrote to Hummel. In his letter (20
August 1831), Schumann sketched his background, mentioned "the passionate love for music" he had had since a child, and related that he
had spent entire days improvising at the piano. Mention was made as
well of August Schumann (and his plans for his son to study with Weber), Schumann's university years, the difficult decision to abandon law,
and present study with Wieck.
At that point Schumann expressed his dissatisfaction with Wieck in
some detail. According to Schumann, Wieck appeared to be uninterested in touch or fingering, and paid little attention to whether Schumann played well or poorly. What mattered to Wieck, Schumann
wrote, was that the performance be "spirited and in the style of Paganini." As a result, what was lacking was a focus on the rudimentary
mechanics of piano playing. Schumann felt that he was being misdirected, was allowed little opportunity to develop, and consequently had
little to show for his study. He concluded by asking Hummel to be his
teacher, and as an example of his work enclosed a solo selection from
a piano concerto in F major that he had been composing.
How valid was Schumann's criticism of Wieck? From -what is known

62 S C H U M A N N

of Wieck's teaching, that he ignored the mechanics of piano technique

appears doubtfulremember that he initially had Schumann practicing
simple finger exercises. But because Schumann was now a more advanced student and because Wieck was an admirer of Field's "singing
tone," perhaps bel canto had assumed priority at the expense of "mechanics." Curiously, what Schumann singled out as being emphasized
by Wieck"spirited" performanceswas more characteristic of the
imagination and lively temperament of Schumann that Wieck was attempting to curb. The reference to Paganini is also somewhat suspicious. Schumann admired Paganini; he was within a few years to base
two of his own compositions on Paganini's Caprices. It is difficult to
believe, then, that in 1830 Schumann would not have been elated to
have been able to perform, "in the manner of Paganini." But Hummel,
as the leading representative of an older school, would have sympathized
with Schumann's complaints. Much of Schumann's letter is best seen in
that light.
One would imagine that Hummel would have been pleased to accept that rare pupil, eager to work on the comparatively dry aspects of
technique, and in no hurry to emulate Paganini. But Schumann received no response from Hummel, and wrote to him again on 25 April
1832, enclosing copies of his first two published compositions, the Abegg
Variations op. i and Papillons op. 2. Hummel finally responded with a
brief critique of the works in a letter dated 24 May 1832. Two days
later Schumann wrote to his mother, and gave her Hummel's reaction
to his compositions: "I have examined your two recent works with
interest," Schumann quoted Hummel as writing, "and am delighted
with your lively talent. Let me point out in particular that at times there
is a too rapid change of harmony, etc. Also you seem somewhat too
often to surrender yourself to your distinctive originality. I would not
like, out of habit, for this to become your style, for it is not compatible
with the beauty, freedom, and clarity of a well-planned composition."
Schumann did not mention to his mother that he had sent the compositions to Hummel, preferring to have her believe that his fame was
growing and that Hummel's comments were unsolicited.
6

Letter to Christiane Schumann of 26 May 1832 in JgBr, p. 179.

Commitment to Music 63
But in his letter Schumann presented to his mother a version of
Hummel's criticism that had been both edited and altered, in the process
creating a far more favorable impression than Hummel had intended.
Added by Schumann was Hummel's supposed reference to "your distinctive" originality, and omitted from it was Hummel's observation that
he had found Schumann's originality to be "somewhat bizarre."7 The
"etc." strategically placed by Schumann replaced a statement by Hummel in which he explained that the rapid harmonic changes in Schumann's compositions would make them less "intelligible." Although to
his mother Schumann presented himself as thoroughly content with
Hummel's response, the alterations to the letter reveal that he did have
misgivings. At this stage of his career, nothing could have been further
from his mind than Hummel's ideal of the "clarity of a well-planned
composition." On the contrary, in works such as Papillons Schumann
seemed to revel in mystification.
No additional mention is found in Schumann's correspondence of
studying with Hummel. But that did not deter him from considering
teachers other than Wieck. In the same letter to his mother in which
he presented to her his expurgated account of Hummel's criticism,
Schumann discussed his preferencewithout giving any reasonof
now going to Vienna to study. In his diary he noted with enthusiasm:
"To Vienna, to Vienna, where my Schubert and Beethoven are at rest:
the decision is made."9 This was an idea that he had had earlier, and
one to which he was to return to as late as December 1832a year of
study in Vienna (supposedly with Ignaz Moscheles) in order to add the
finishing touches to his skills as a pianist. But this was even more farfetched than studying with Hummel. Moscheles had few pupils. Moreover, since 1825 he had been living not in Vienna, but in London.
Despite his preferences, Schumann now attempted to make the best
of his situation with Wieck. On his birthday in June 1832, Schumann
informed Wieck that although he was now entering his twenty-third
Wolfgang Boetticher, ed., Briefe unA Gedichte aus dem Album Robert und Clam Schumanns
(Leipzig, 1981), p. 91.
&

Ibid.
Entry of 27 May in Tgb 7, p. 399.

64 S C H U M A N N

year, in reality it was "only my second"a flattering reference to the

supposed significance of his study with Wieck.10 But despite Schumann's honeyed words, he increasingly was viewing Wieck in a hostile
manner. He came to believe that Wieck's relationship with Clara was
motivated not by either love for Clara or love for music, but rather by
love for money. "Meister Allesgeld [Master Moneyhungry]" is the name
Schumann created for him in his diary.11 At one point after seeing
Wieck lose his temper, throw his son Alwin to the floor and pull his
hair (Alwin had not played well during a lesson with his father), Schumann asked himself: "Am I living among human beings?"12 "Each day,"
Schumann wrote in May 1832, "Wiek [sic] seems to me to be duller,
more insipid, and more arrogant."13 As Schumann became dejected
both by his relationship with Wieck and slow progress, for a time music
itself lost its attractiveness to him. "Music," he wrote in the diary, "how
loathsome you are! I hate the very sight of you!"14
Schumann's study of music theory was not progressing much better
than his study of the piano. This aspect of Schumann's instruction was
required by Wieck; he viewed a background in music theory as essential
to the development of a musician. Schumann chose to study with Heinrich Dorn, only four years older than Schumann, but music director of
the Hoftheater. Study with Dorn began in July 1831 and lasted until
the spring of 1832. In later years, Dorn had nothing but praise for
Schumann's industry: "An indefatigable worker; if I gave him a single
example to work on, he would always do more."15 But Dorn felt that
Schumann had a great deal to learn: "The first four-part chorale
which he had to do for me as an indication of his knowledge of harmonybroke all the rules of part-writing."
Schumann's initial impression of Dorn was not favorable: "I will
Letter of 8 June 1832 inJgBr, p. 181.
Entry of 13 October 1831 in Tgb I, p. 371.
12

Entry of 21 August 1831 in Ibid., p. 364.

Entry of 15 May 1832 in Ibid., p. 389.

14

Entry of 5 June 1831 in Ibid., p. 336.

Letter of 7 September 1856 to Wasielewski in Eismann, p. 74.

I6

lbid.

Commitment to Music 65
never become any closer to Dorn. He has no feelings."17 Schumann
was impatient, and exasperated by all the rules he was obliged to follow
in his exercises. Its. dryness must have brought to mind his earlier reaction to the study of law. "I will never be able to get along with
Dorn," he wrote in January 1832. "Music to him is a fugue, and he
wants me to think the same way. God!" By February, Schumann had
progressed to the study of three-voice fugues (their lessons ended prior
to the study of canon) .
But the relationship between them was not as strained as Schumann
had feared. He and Dorn shared similar tastes in music. To both Wieck
and Christiane Schumann, he acknowledged that study with Dorn had
been helpful and had led to more reflection. It also had led to greater
self-confidence. But despite Dorn's later praise of Schumann's hard
work, it appears that it was he who broke off the lessons with Schumann, probably because of what he perceived as lack of commitment.
If Dorn's later assertions are to be believed known for his dry sarcasm,
he may have been having fun at the expense of Schumann's biographers it is likely that Schumann's "indefatigable" work was primarily
directed toward his compositions. "I think of you nearly every day,
often somewhat sadly," Schumann later wrote to Dorn. "I learned in
too disorderly a fashion. But I am always thankful; in spite of it all, I
learned more than you think" (14 September 1836).
Schumann's primary source of knowledge during this time was what
he taught himself. He perused the works of Chopin with care, studying
as much as eight hours a day. Bach, some of whose preludes and fugues
he had played in Heidelberg, became of increasing importance, and
Schumann examined his work in depth. To Kuntsch, he wrote that
Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier had become his "grammar, and moreover
the best."19 As a continuation of his theory study, after lessons with
Dorn had ended Schumann on his own worked in theoretical treatises
of Gottfried Weber and Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg.
But despite Schumann's efforts, personal problems continued to
17

18

Entry of 30 July in Tgb I, p. 358.

Letter of n January 1832 to Wieck injfgBr, p. 162.

19
Letter of 27 July 1832 in Ibid, p. 187.

66 S C H U M A N N

complicate his life. As had been the case during the university years, he
seemed to be in almost constant need of more money. And his fondness
for wine and beer remained keen. The references in his diary to drinking and hangovers greatly diminish after the college years, but Schumann was concerned enough about his reputation to write to his family
to state that he had nearly given up drinking beer. He began to perceive
some of his past behavior in a different light. No longer was it a question of studying the inspirational effects of inebriation: "I believe that
the greatest happiness exists in the purest sobriety. You can not become
drunk drinking nectar."
Schumann's friends from both the university years and the early 18305
invariably testified to his good character and upright, moral behavior.
To Emil Flechsig, Schumann was "of an altogether noble nature, spotless and pure as a Vestal virgin." But Schumann was not as virtuous
as Flechsig maintained. In Schumann's diary for February 1830not
long after what he described as "the most debauched week of my
life"there is a reference to "the whore and Anderson and Braun."22
On 7 May 1829, the diary reads: "The whoresembraceslustmy
innocence saved by a major coup."23 Such references testify to Schumann's sexual curiosity and interest, and not explicitly to his experience.
But in mid-May 1831 there began to appear in Schumann's diary curt
and sometimes cryptic references to "Chr."(whom Schumann later referred to in the diary as "Charitas"). Her true name was Christel (full
name not known), and for at least a year, but probably longer, she and
Schumann were lovers.
From May until the autumn of 1831, Schumann's diary recounts in
a dry manner, but with surprising detail, their physical relationship and
his guilt and remorse concerning it. From the autumn of 1831 until
November 1838, Schumann did not maintain his diary in the usual
detail. For that reason, it is not possible to follow the continuing relaEntry of II May 1831 in Tgb I, p. 329.
Emil Flechsig, "Erinnerungen an Robert Schumann," Neue Zeitschnft fur Musik CXVII
(1956), p. 394.
22 February 1830 in Tgb I, p. 228.
Ibid., p. 195.

Commitment to Music 67
tionship between Christel and Schumann, nor is it possible to determine
when it ended. There are references to her until July 1832, but with
less frequency. In the summer of 1834 Schumann was attracted to and
in the process of becoming engaged to Ernestine von Fricken, a student
of Friedrich Wieck. For him to have continued his relationship with
Christel at that time would have been unlikely; in fact, the affair probably ended no later than 1833.
Christel is first mentioned in Schumann's diary on 12 May 1831, but
it is clear that their association is not recent. From that time until August
she is mentioned at least once and often several times each week. Allusions to their sexual encounters are plain. Schumann was disturbed
by the relationship, both by its moral implications and by the physical
pleasure he derived from it. There is no mention of Christel's thoughts
or her interests; no indication of her personality or temperament. From
the diary, it appears that the relationship in Schumann's eyes was one
solely of physical attraction. What came to dominate Schumann was a
sense of guilt and disgust "with himself. "Only guilt gives birth to Nemesis," he wrote in the very first diary entry concerning their relationship.24 In having an affair he was defying the social and religious
standards with which he had been raised. But the artistic implications
were perhaps of even greater significance to Schumann. His illicit sexual
relationship was not compatible with his artistic idealism.
The following weeks repeatedly revealed Schumann's remorse as the
affair continued: "I can hardly be pure/holy anymore"; "I am sinking,
sinking back into the old slime. Will no hand come from the clouds to
hold me back? I must become that hand"; "Evil daysmay God and
my heart forgive me!"2S He tried to find distraction in work: it was
during this period that he devoted himself so intently to a study of
Chopin. When he had no contact with Christel, Schumann appeared
relieved and declared the week "beautiful and nearly completely
pure." His despair culminated in an emotional outburst at the end of
October: "God! I want to change myself, I swear it to You. Give me
12 May 1831 in Ibid., p. 330.
Entries of 7 June, 20 June, 30 June in Ibid., pp. 338, 344.
14 August 1831 in Ibid., p. 360.

OO S C H U M A N N

just one persononly oneon whom I can lay my hearta sweetheart, a beloved, give me a feminine hearta feminine heart! I can
then become reconciled to myself, to everything!"27
To complicate matters, at the time of his tormented relationship with
Christel, Schumann developed an irrational fear of contracting cholera.
The outbreak of cholera had started in India in the late 18205 and then
spread to Russia. In 1831, it arrived in Germany. All of Europe appeared
mesmerized by its appearance. Although its devastation was hardly comparable, allusions were made to the Black Death of the Middle Ages.
For a time, Schumann was overwhelmed by his fear. Early in September
he mentioned fleeing to Rome or Paris"I have a distressing, somewhat childlike fear of cholera. . . . The thought of dying now, after
having lived for twenty years and done nothing but spend money, overwhelms me ... in short, I am in such a disagreeable state of uneasiness
and indecision, that I would prefer to put a bullet in my head."28 By
the end of the month Schumann reported to his mother that he was
no longer anxious, but, as late as May 1832, reference was still made to
the disease. By then the epidemic had moved further west, and there
was little cause for concern.
All of the problems facing Schumann contributed to his condition.
He had to contend not just with his fear of cholera, but with his frustrating and, to his mind, mostly profitless study with Wieck. There was
as well the dry and forbidding study of music theory, and his tortuous,
guilt-ridden relationship with Christel. When he had begun his study
with Wieck he could hardly have conceived that so many problems
would beset him and that in his own mind so little progress would have
been made. Within three years, Wieck had promised to make Schumann into another Moscheles. Instead, Schumann must have felt a sense
of desperation as time quickly passed, problems mounted, and a hopeless
feeling of isolation increased. "The artist," wrote Schumann in January
1832, "must maintain a sense of balance with the outside world. Otherwise he will go underlike myself."29
It was in this state of mind that the most devastating blow of all

28

29

Ibid., p. 375Letter to Julius Schumann in JgBr, pp. 14849.

5 January 1832 in Tgb I, p. 378.

Commitment to Music 69
occurred. On 5 April 1833, Schumann wrote to a friend from Heidelberg, Theodor Topken, describing a problem that had developed: "I
have a numb, broken finger on my right hand. ... I can hardly use the
hand at all for playing." Schumann had been aware of the serious nature
of the injury for more than a year. But the problem itself had been
present even prior to study with Wieck. A diary entry for 26 January
1830 made reference to "my numb finger."30 Eight months later, in a
letter to Dr. Carus, Schumann complained that as a result of practicing,
one finger now felt "as if it were broken."31
Throughout the month of May 1832, Schumann's diary documented
the deteriorating condition of the third (middle) finger. On the 22nd,
he pronounced it "incorrigible," and in mid-June, "completely stiff."
A visit was made with Wieck to a doctor in Dresden. Herbal bandages
were applied and, in an archaic attempt at a cure, Schumann's hand was
placed for periods of time into the thoracic or abdominal cavity of a
freshly slaughtered cow. In June 1833, as a last resort, a homeopathic
cure was attempted, and his diet was regulated. Even an electrical treatment of some kind was adopted in an attempt to cure his condition.
There was no improvement. As a result, in August 1832 Schumann
wrote to his mother informing her that there was no longer any reason
for him to contemplate continuing piano study in Vienna. He suggested
that he would return to the university, this time to study theology.
When there was no change in his condition, he wrote in early November to tell her that he was "completely resigned" to his condition,
which he now felt was incurable.33 He announced as well his intention
to rest his hand, and take up the study of the cello, which he felt would
add another dimension to his musicianship and be valuable in the composition of symphonies. The idea he had previously expressed to her
of studying theology he now dismissed as a momentary aberration.
Schumann's hand injury has always been a matter of controversy.
How serious was it? What might have caused it? Schumann later stated
Ibid., p. 222.
Letter of 25 September 1830 to Dr. Ernst August Carus in Siegfried Kross, ed., Briefe und
Notizen Robert und Clara Schumanns, 2nd ed. (Bonn, 1982), p. 28.

Tgb I, pp. 394, 410.

Letter of 6 November 1832 in JS, p. 234.

7O S C H U M A N N

that the problem first became apparent in October 1831; he attributed

it to excessive practicing in the early 18305 when he played the piano
"more than six or seven hours a day. A weakness in my right hand,
which worsened, obliged me to break off these studies."34 In 1839,
writing to his friend Simonin de Sire, Schumann attributed the problem
both to excessive writing and piano playing. Traditionally, however,
Schumann's problem has been attributed not to excessive practice but
to a mechanical device he himself had constructed and used while practicing. Its purpose was to immobilize one or more of his fingers, in the
expectation of creating greater dexterity and strength. Friedrich Wieck
appears to have been the original source for this theory; in Klavier und
Gesang he made reference (Schumann was not mentioned by name) to:
"the finger torturer thought up by a famous pupil of mine to the just
outrage of his third and fourth fingers, which he fashioned against my
wishes and used behind my back."35 When questioned after her husband's death, Clara Schumann had no recollection of a mechanical device but attributed the problem to excessive use of a dumb keyboard.
Recently discovered contemporary documentsas well as Schumann's diary from the periodhave resolved the matter. Schumann's
hand injury was clearly a result of the abuse to which he subjected his
right hand (according to Schumann's own observations, already weaker
than his left) by the use of a mechanical device. It was not an uncommon practice at the time for pianists to use such contraptions. Numerous devices to support the wrists, hands, and fingers were available for
purchase. Schumann evidently made his own. In his diary for May
1832, reference is made to a "Cigarrenmechanik," probably Schumann's
homemade device (which may have been made from a cigar box).36
Apparently Schumann had been using either this device or another for
years, and was well aware of its possible harmful effect. In writing to
Dr. Carus in the autumn of 1830, he traced his nearly "broken" finger
to use of a mechanical apparatus, but he continued to use the device
long after the problem developed.37
Eismann, p. 77. No date is given for these observations by Schumann.
Friedrich Wieck, Klavier und Gesang, trans, and ed. H. Pleasants as Piano and Song (Stuyvesant, NY, 1988), p. 73.
36
7 May 1833 in Tg\> I, p. 386.
Letter of 25 September 1830 in Kross, p. 28.

Commitment to Music 71
In 1841, during a physical examination to determine his suitability
for military service, Dr. Moritz E. Reuter (a good friend of Schumann)
concluded that the middle and index fingers of the right hand were
damaged, and attributed the problempresumably based on information supplied by Schumann himselfto a mechanical device that had
been intended to strengthen them and that "held these fingers strongly
towards the back of the hand."38 As a result Schumann could not use
the middle finger when playing the piano, "the index finger somewhat,
and cannot grasp an object firmly."39 In fact, this condition may help
explain why later in life Schumann had difficulty holding a baton while
conducting.
After November 1832the point at which Schumann claimed to be
"completely resigned" to his injuryno further consideration was
given to becoming a virtuoso. Nor was any mention made, as had been
previously agreed, of returning to the study of law if his piano study
did not work out. By this time his family, too, had become resigned
resigned to whatever course of action Schumann might prefer. Emotionally and physically drained by the vicissitudes of Schumann's career,
at times they reacted with indifference. At one point, Schumann even
asked his mother to write to Wieck, who had expressed surprise at
never receiving from Schumann's family any inquiries concerning his
progress.
Throughout the entire episode, Schumann exhibited unusual coolness and composure. The full implications of his loss only appeared to
strike him later when, little known as a composer, he felt frustrated by
his inability to perform his own compositions in public: "Often I have
cried to heaven and asked, 'My God, why have you done this to
me?' "4 But at the time of his injury, noticeably absent was the sense
of panic or despair thatgiven his previous behaviormight have been
expected. Schumann may very well have felt relieved. The injury to
his hand simplified matters considerably. Now he could focus his attention on writing music. Schumann's hand injury merely provided him
38

39

Report quoted in Arnfried Edler, Robert Schumann und seine Ze.it (Bonn, 1982), p. 297.

Ibid. The injury did not actually prevent Schumann from playing the piano. Reuter no
doubt exaggerated the extent of Schumann's disability in order to present as convincing a
case as possible of Schumann's inability to serve in the military.
40
Letter of 3 December 1838 to Clara Wieck in Cl/Rob I, p. 307.

72 S C H U M A N N

with the excuse to do what he had long desired. In that sense, it was
a blessing. Quiet and introverted by nature, it would have been a challenge for him to promote himself. Dorn even commented that Schumann "lacked the boldness" for public performances.41
Beginning in April 1832, Schumann had been trying with little success to establish independence and promote himself as a composer. In
November 1831, his op. i, the Abegg Variations, appeared in print. The
pride he felt in its appearance he shared with family and college friends.
During the winter of the same year, he started work on what was
intended as the first movement of a sonata for piano to be dedicated
to Moscheles (later published as the Allegro op. 8). During 1832 Schumann devoted his attention to composing as he never had before; he
completed two substantial works: the Paganini Etudes op. 3 and the
Intermezzi op. 4. And he discussed his compositions with those whom
he felt were influential in the musical world, including Ludwig Rellstab,
editor of the music journal Iris im Gebiet der Tonkunst (1830-41), Ignaz
Castelli, editor of the Viennese Allgemeiner Musikalischer Anzeiger (1829
40), and Gottfried Weber, editor of Cacilia (1824-39).
Most significant of all at this time was Schumann's determination to
compose a symphony. With the exception of about a dozen songs composed prior to going to college, all of Schumann's previous works had
focused on the piano. Writing a symphony would accomplish a great
deal, Schumann hoped, in establishing a name for himself as a composer.
He worked on the symphony from October 1832 until May 1833, and
found it to be challenging. Most frustrating was the orchestration, for
Schumann's knowledge of it was limited. Eventually he contacted
Christian Miiller, conductor of the Euterpe concert series, for assistance.
It had become a matter of some urgency: a performance of the first
movement was arranged for 18 November in Zwickau, at which Clara
Wieck was also to play (as part of a small concert tour including visits
to Zwickau, Altenburg, and Schneeberg). Here was an opportunity that
Schumann as a youth had probably dreamed abouthis own symphony
performed before friends and family in the community in which he had
been raised. It was as well an opportunity publicly to exhibit both his
ability and the results of the past two years, in its way a justification of
Eismann, p. 74.

Commitment to Music 73

his abandonment of law. But it did not turn out as Schumann had
hoped. While Clara was a success, the symphony was not; according
to Wieck, the audience simply did not understand it.
Schumann used the experience to make changes in the first movement and work on a second movement, all in preparation for other
performances, first in Schneeberg (probably 18 February) and then in
Leipzig (29 April). But these performances were not successful either.
To his mother, Schumann wrote that discerning critics had praised the
symphonybut in truth there had not been enough praise, and there
was no interest in performing the work again. He laid the symphony
aside, and never completed it. The symphony's failurecoupled with
the many personal and professional complications of the previous two
yearsmight have convinced one less determined to abandon music as
a career. There is no indication that such a thought occurred to Schumann. He continued to write music: not long after the performance of
his symphony he composed the Impromptus op. 5. But there can be little
doubt that these difficulties discouraged him and may have taken their
toll on his health. His diary reveals that for much of July and August
he was disconsolate and ill with an intermittent fever (possibly malaria).
By nature Schumann was soft-spoken, quiet, and reserved. Writing
in 1856 to their mutual friend Emil Flechsig, Eduard Roller (a friend
from Schumann's university years) recalled that it was difficult to say
much about Schumann: "He wasn't open or outspoken enough totally
to reveal himself."42 It was a temperament that lent itself well to solitude. During these years in Leipzig Schumann had few close friends,
and spent much time alone. The idea of solitude as a source of inspiration was deeply ingrained in the public mind during the nineteenth
century, and one with which Schumann was familiar. In an essay from
his last years at the Lyceum, Schumann had proclaimed: "Solitude nurtures all great spirits."43
Christiane Schumann was well aware of her son's fondness for solitude, and more aware than he of its dangers. "I hope you are associating
with people," she wrote in January 1832. "You can not and must not
42

Quoted in Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, Schutnanniana (Bonn, 1883), p. 80.

From the essay, "Einfluss der Einsamkeit auf die Bildung des Geistes und die Veredelung
des Herzens." Excerpt included in Tgb I, p. 77.

74 ' S C H U M A N N

isolate yourself."44 But all too often Schumann disregarded her advice,
resulting in the lack of a "sense of balance with the outside 'world" that
he had noted in his diary that same month. As a result, Schumann's
perception of himself and perspective of the world around him were
prone to distortion. He was inclined as well to worry about the state
of his health, at timesas has been seen with his obsession with cholerato the point of irrationality. His sense of isolation, anxiety over
the future, and increasing frustration with the lack of recognition accorded his work all contributed in the autumn of 1833 to what he
described as "torment from the most frightful melancholy . . . the idea
that I was going mad became an obsession."45
Events came to a head during the night of 17/18 October. Schumann
remembered it as "the most frightful night of my life."4 What actually
happened remains unclear. Schumann's account of the incident lacks
detail, and was written five years after the event. But even with the
lapse of time, his fear and horror of what occurred remain striking. At
the same time, his reaction contains a curious sense of detachment, as
if the horrors of that night had occurred to a character in a work of
fiction by Jean Paul or Hoffmann, where visions of madness are common enough. Schumann's first biographer, Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, reported that in a fit of despair Schumann wanted to hurl
himself out of a window, but others informed him that was not the
case. Whether true or not, after this event Schumann exhibited a fear
of heights. He soon moved from the fourth floor, which he "could no
longer bear," to the first.47
What appeared to have precipitated the incident was the imminent
death of Schumann's brother Julius (from tuberculosis: he died on 18
November at the age of twenty-eight), coupled with the death of Schumann's sister-in-law, Rosalie (Carl's wife). She had been ill for much of
the summer apparently from malaria and died on 17 October. Schumann had been very close to Rosalie, a trusted confidante with whom
44

Letter of 3 January 1832 in Eugenie Schumann, Robert Schumann. Bin Lebensbild meines
Vaters (Leipzig, 1931), p. 143.

45

46

Recollected in November 1838. Tgb I, p. 419.

m.
47
M.

Commitment to Music 75
he often shared his plans for the future. He had also been godfather to
Rosalie and Carl's son, Robert, born in 1831 (and whose death on 4
June 1832 may also have contributed to Schumann's state). He described
Rosalie as "unforgettable . . . we were of the same age [Rosalie was
actually two years older]. She was more to me than a sister, but it was
not a question of us being in love" (n February 1838).
To Clara (to whom he was then engaged), he recounted not what
had happened the night of 17/18 October, but how he had felt during
it: "During the night of October 17 to 18, 1833 the most terrifying
thought that anyone can havethe most frightful punishment of
heaven'losing one's mind.' It took possession of me with such intensity, that all consolation, all prayer were powerless" (n February 1838).
He confessed that he had thought of suicide, and visited a physician
(probably his friend, Reuter).
The effects of the night lingered, and his condition worsened. Now
in a state of severe depression, he informed his mother that he would
be unable to travel to Zwickau. The death of Julius had affected him
so that
I was hardly more than a statue, without coldness, without warmth. Only
by means of hard work did life return again, bit by bit. But I am still so
fearful and upset, that I can not sleep alone ... I don't have the courage to
travel to Zwickau alone out of fear that something could happen to me.
Violent congestion of my blood, unspeakable fear, shortness of breath, and
fainting fits alternate rapidly, although less now than in the preceding days.
If you had any idea of how deeply melancholy has taken hold of me, you
would surely forgive me for not having written to you.4

To his mother, he presented what he felt was the cause of his malady:
"I have never known sorrow [presumably, the deaths of Julius and Rosalie]. Now it has come to me, but I could not bear it, and it has crushed
me a thousandfold."49 But Schumann had "known sorrow" before
the deaths of his father and sister. Although he may not have realized
it at the time, he was later able to describe to Clara the true reason for
his collapse. He attributed it both to the lack of recognition for his
48
49

Letter of 27 November 1833 in JS, pp. 24243.

Letter to his mother of 4 January 1834 in Ibid., p. 243.

76 S C H U M A N N

compositions, and to the injury to his hand. But in addition it was the
loss (in the death of Rosalie) of someone whom he loved deeply and
who had become an essential support. Discouraged and exhausted by
the struggle to achieve success first as a pianist and then as a composer,
Schumann's collapse was a reaction to what had become a despairing
and seemingly hopeless situation.
The one consolation afforded to Schumann was the support of
friends. And by a stroke of good fortune, in December 1833 Schumann
met Ludwig Schuncke, a young musician recently arrived in Leipzig.
The beneficial effect of Schuncke on Schumann cannot be overemphasized. He was to become, in an uncommonly short time, not
only Schumann's closest friend but probably the closest friend he was
ever to have. Schuncke was a pianist and composer, at the time attempting to make a name for himself as a virtuoso. He possessed the
training and background that Schumann lacked, including study in both
Vienna and Paris. Schuncke was extremely gifted and at the outset of
a promising career (his Piano Sonata op. 3dedicated to Schumann
is, in fact, an extraordinary work), and Schumann felt he had discovered
in him a kindred spirit. They lived in the same house and spent much
time together, going for walks, ice-skating, and performing and discussing music.
It was through Schuncke that Schumann soon came to know the
Voigts, Carl and Henriette. They were both music lovers, and their
home became a popular meeting place for musicians in Leipzig. Schumann later wrote: "Merely to step into their house made an artist feel
at home. Hanging above the piano were portraits of the great masters,
and a select musical library was at your disposal. It was as if the musician
were master of the house, and music the supreme goddess of it."50 Carl
Voigt admired Beethoven to such an extent that he made an anonymous
donation to the Gewandhaus Orchestra to assure performances of the
Ninth Symphony. Henriette was a gifted pianist who took lessons from
Schuncke, and in Berlin had studied with Ludwig Berger, who had also
taught Mendelssohn. Her diaryexcerpts from which Schumann published after her deathreveals her to have been a passionate and sensitive musician. Schumann soon came to refer to her as "Eleonore" (a
5

"Erinnerung an eine Freundin" (1839) in GS I, p. 446.

Commitment to Music 77
reference to the heroine of Beethoven's Fidelia) and his "Soul in A flat
Major." In many ways, Henriette Voigt became to Schumann what
Agnes Carus had been earlier. And although there are no references in
his diary to romantic dreams about her, it would be surprising if at
times he did not think of her in a similar fashion. She felt a particular
attraction to Schumann's music, later writing poetry inspired by the
Fantasiestucke op. 12 and the Kinderszenen op. 15.
If friends provided the support and distraction Schumann needed
during this difficult period in his life, none was of greater personal
significance to him than Clara Wieck. At first simple and direct, the
relationship between them developed into one of considerable complexity. From the beginning, Schumann appears to have been enchanted
with her, and fascinated by what he perceived as her dual nature: the
child, and the mature, gifted musician. He would tell her ghost stories
and go on walks with her.
[Clara] is just the samewild and enthusiasticshe runs and jumps and
plays like a child and then all at once says the most thoughtful things. . . .
As we were coming home together from Connewitz the other day (we
take walks for two or three hours nearly every day) I heard her say to
herself: 'Oh, how happy I am! How happy!' Who would not enjoy hearing
that! On the same road there are a great many rocks in the middle of the
footpath. As it often happens that when I am talking with someone I have
a tendency to look up rather than down, she always goes behind me and
tugs gently on my coat at each stone so that I don't fall. Meanwhile she
stumbles over them herself.
It was in music that their relationship first began to take on greater
significance. Schumann was one of the earliest champions of Chopin,
and both he and Clara were particularly fond of Chopin's Variations on
Mozart's 'La ci darem' op. 2. Schumann composed a set of studies based
on it; Chopin's op. 2 was an important piece in Clara's repertory. Schumann made the following suggestion:
Tomorrow precisely at eleven o'clock I will play the adagio from Chopin's
Variations and at the same time I shall think of you very intently, exclusively
Letter to Christiane Schumann of 28 June 1833 in_/S, p. 238.

78 S C H U M A N N

of you. Now my request is that you should do the same, so that we may
see and meet each other in spirit. The place will probably be over the
Thomaspfortchen, where our doubles will encounter one another. (13 July
1833)

The mention of "doubles" ("doppelganger") was a reference to the tales

Schumann used to entertain the Wieck children, some of which had as
a basis the doppelganger stories of Hoffmann and others. But the whimsical humor in Schumann's letterhumor that appears to have been
added as an afterthought in an attempt to diminish the romantic tone
of his suggestionshould not detract from the seriousness of purpose.
Schumann at the time was twenty-three; Clara had not yet turned fourteen. Despite the disparity in their ages, the early nineteenth century
offers a number of celebrated romances of a similar nature (often illfated), in particular Novalis's love for the twelve-year-old Sophie von
Kuhn and Hoffmann's love for the fourteen-year-old Julia Marc.52
Most symbolic of all was Schumann's reaction to one of Clara's compositions, the Romance varie op. 3, a work dedicated to him. Early in
August Clara sent a copy of her newly printed Romance to Schumann.
In acknowledging the dedication, he wrote (rather formally, but with
clear intent): "I would like to speak to you of the hope I have that the
union of our names on the title page, may become a union of our
views and ideas at a later time" (2 August 1833). Schumann further
responded with a composition of his own, the Impromptus sur un theme
de Clara Wieck op. 5, using as its basis the theme from Clara's Romance.
To the theme itself, Schumann added his own bass line, and the result
was a series of variations on both the theme and the bass. It was dedicated to Clara s father and presented to him on his birthday, 18 August
1833. Nine months earlier, during the performance in Zwickau of
Schumann's symphony, Clara had found herself with Christiane Schumann as her son passed by. "Someday you must marry my Robert,"
she reportedly told Clara.53 In Schumann's mind, perhaps unknowingly
In an early biography of Schumann published in 1882, Philipp Spitta wrote that a "special
affection [between Robert and Clara] first was apparent in the spring of 1836." In her copy
of the biography, Clara corrected the statement: "Already in 1833." Nancy B. Reich, Clara
Schumann: The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985), p. 66.
Litzmann I, p. 54.

Commitment to Music 79
at first, it is clear that Clara was becoming the ideal, the "feminine
heart" which he had been desperately seeking. "I often think of you,"
Schumann -wrote to her on ii January 1832, "not as a brother thinks
of a sister, nor as a boyfriend thinks of a girlfriend, but as a pilgrim
before a distant shrine."

C H A P T E R

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834

Let all that is marvelous fly neither as a bird of the day nor as
one of the night, but as a butterfly at twilight.
Jean Paul, Introduction to Aesthetics

CCORDING TO HIS OWN RECOLLECTIONS, SCHUMANN BEGAN

to compose when he was seven or eight (not long after beginning

to study the piano). None of these earliest works, which he described
as dances, is known to have survived. A setting for voices and orchestra
of Psalm 150 followed at the age of twelve. On an elaborate, handmade
title page in childish handwriting, Breitkopf & Hartel is listed as its
publisher. In 1850, Schumann described it as his "oldest, completely
finished work," but dismissed it as a juvenile attempt. Not long after
the psalm, Schumann began work on an opera, but composed only an
overture and a peasant chorus.
Schumann's first work of substance was a collection of about a dozen
songs (two of them incomplete) composed in 1827 and 1828 and not
published during his lifetime. Eleven of them have since appeared in
print. Three have texts by Schumann: "Lied fur ***" (c. 1827), "Sehnsucht" (June 1827), and "Hirtenknabe" (August 1828), the latter two
using the pseudonym Ebert (not "Ekert," as erroneously published). In
Tgb II, p. 402.
80

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 8l

addition, there are individual settings of Byron, J. G. Jacobi, Goethe,
and five of Justinus Kerner.
Several of the Kerner lieder were sent to Gottlob Wiedebein in July
1828 in order to provide him with a basis to evaluate Schumann's ability
as a composer. Wiedebein's tactful response revealed both a kind and
generous spirit, for there are enough inept and cumbersome passages in
the songs for him to have written a fairly uncharitable evaluation. The
melodic line of Kerner s "Kurzes Erwachen" (29 June 1828), for example, is simplistic, and not idiomatic for the voice. Problems also occasionally occur with the piano accompaniment (the ungainly
modulation from D flat major to F major in Kerner's "An Anna"; 31
July 1828).
These are flaws attributable to Schumann's inexperience. More disturbing are indications of his inability, or lack of interest, in tailoring
the music to the sentiments of the text. "Sehnsucht" provides a notable
instance. The work itselfwith a Schubertian melody and simple arpeggios in the piano accompanimentis pleasing. But the introductory
four measures of block chords are crude. Their sole function seems to
be to establish the tonality. There are aspects of the songs that are effective, particularly when Schumann's lack of formal training is taken
into account. His setting of Byron's "Die Weinende" (July 1827; "I Saw
Thee Weep" from the Hebrew Melodies) is perhaps the best of the series.
The introduction, beginning on a V 6/5 of ii and moving to a diminished seventh, is adventurous, admirably setting the scene for Byron's
poignant text.
The songs were composed at the start of Schumann's infatuation with
Jean Paul. Although he did not set any of Jean Paul's texts to music,
he felt no hesitation in admitting the significant effect Jean Paul had on
him as a composer. In the 18405, looking back on his earlier compositions, he wrote to a friend that the two greatest influences on his work
had been Bach and Jean Paul, an influence so obvious in Schumann's
mind that he added: "which you would probably notice without my
pointing it out to you" (5 May 1843). From Jean Paul, Schumann
claimed to "have learned more about counterpoint than from my music
teacher" (15 March 1839)a remark to which Dorn would not have
taken kindly, but one that reveals much about Schumann's view of
musical academicism. In the compositions created prior to 1834, the

82 S C H U M A N N

influence of Bach is not yet a predominant element, but the influence

of Jean Paul is profound.
There are four distinctive traits in the music composed by Schumann
during the 18305, which appear to owe much to his reading of Jean
Paul. Several of these conceptsthe last one in particularare expanded and used with greater frequency in the piano compositions of
the latter 18305:
1. The use of brief, almost aphoristic musical statements. Much of Jean
Paul's work reveals a fondness for short, pithy statements, whether within
the text itself or as asides in footnotes. This was an aspect of Jean Paul's
styleat times he referred to them as polymetersthat particularly appealed to Schumann.
2. A love for mystery and concealed meaning. This is a notable characteristic of Jean Paul, and one frequently encountered in his novels, whether
it be the long-concealed true identity of characters (such as Albano in
Titan) or mysterious machinations within the plot (such as that of the
Death's Head Monk, also in Titan). In Schumann's music, this has its
counterpart in the enigmatic Countess Abegg of op. i, the concealed
programs behind works such as Papillons, the fondness for musical puzzles
(such as spelling words with pitches), and the "borrowings" from Beethoven, Clara Wieck, and other composers, which often served as a
cryptic form of communication.
3. The quotation of musical ideas from previous compositions in new ones.
There are two notable instances: the quotation of a theme from Papillons
in Camaval (its appearance marked by Schumann in the score) and, in a
similar manner, the quotation of the A-B-E-G-G theme from op. i in
the Intermezzi op. 4 (but not noted in the score). Related to these is the
quotation of a folk tune (the "Grossvater Tanz") in opp. 2, 4, and 9
(indicated solely in the score of op. 9 as a "Theme du XVIIeme Siecle").
Schumann seems to be taking his cue from Jean Paul; in totally unrelated
novels, offhanded references to the plots and characters of earlier works
are common. This was an attempt by Jean Paul, as it probably was by
Schumann, on the one hand to bind his oeuvre together, and on the
other hand, by means of romantic irony to shatter the illusion of reality
created by the work.
4. The often abrupt juxtaposition of grotesque humor with elements of

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 83

profound sentiment. Humor fascinated Jean Paul; a substantial part of his
Introduction to Aesthetics (1804; revised edition, 1813) was devoted to it.
Jean Paul explored an "annihilating or infinite idea of humor," describing
"humor as inverse sublimity." And he pointed out that such instances
of humor were present in music. Schumann was familiar with Jean Paul's
text; his diary shows he was reading the Aesthetics in September 1828.
In Schumann's music, humor is often created by contraststarding and
dramatic.

Schumann was able to justify as well his fondness for improvisation

by reference to Jean Paul. "In improvisation music brings together all
that is sublime. ... It is the same in Jean Paul's polymeters. . . . Freedom
is always more original and spirited than constraint."3 Schumann's ability
in improvisation attracted attention. In Heidelberg, this contributed
considerably to his musical reputation. Theodore Topken, a student at
Heidelberg who played occasional duets with Schumann, recalled that
while improvising "ideas would flow out of [Schumann] in an abundance without end."4 At the time, improvisation was essential to Schumann as a composer. Writing to his mother in March 1834, he dismissed
concern for his hand injury, pointing out that it did not prevent him
from composing, nor did "it bother me while improvising."5
Schumann's improvisational skills took more tangible form in the
music he composed in the late 18205 and 18308, especially in dances for
piano. After the completion of the lieder, in August and September of
1828 he composed eight Polonaises for piano four hands (WoO 20).
With the exception of the fourth in the set, there were galant titles for
each: "La douleur," "La belle patrie," "Paix et douleur," "La reconciliation," "L'aimable," "La fantaisie," and "La serenade." Their inspiration can be found in the four-hand polonaises (particularly Seeks
Polonaisen op. 61 D. 824, c. 1825, and Vier Polonaisen op. 75 D. 599, c.
1818) of SchubertSchumann's favorite composer at the time. They
were performed privately on several occasions with Topken while in
Jean Paul Richter, Horn of Oberon. Jean Paul Richter's School for Aesthetics, trans. Margaret R.
Hale (Detroit, 1973), p. 91.
13 August 1828 in Tgb I, p. 113.
A

From a letter of 30 September 1856 by Topken to Wasielewski in Eismann, p. 55.

Letter of 19 March 1834 in JS, p. 248.

84 S C H U M A N N

Heidelberg. At their best, they are successful Hausmusik: light, enjoyable, and unpretentious.
After completion of the Polonaises, in December 1828 Schumann
began work on his most ambitious composition to date: a Piano Quartet
in C minor (WoO 32). It was inspired by the music of Prince Louis
Ferdinand, whose chamber music Schumann's college chamber group
was examining at the time. Before beginning the quartet, Schumann
composed a set of piano variations (four hands) using as a basis a theme
of Louis Ferdinand, a work now lost. Louis Ferdinand's own Piano
Quartet op. 6 served as a model for Schumann's quartet.
He worked on the quartet until 21 March 1829, and as he did so,
movements were performed by the chamber group to a select audience,
including Wieck. It is a modest accomplishment, displaying the limitations of his musical knowledge and a resulting lack of craftsmanship.
The sonata structure of the first movement is as painfully evident as if
it were taken from a textbook. The third movement (Andante) seems
archaic, and is in an almost galant style, decorative and ornamented. In
all, there is a striving for dramatic effectsa grandiose fortissimo opening, tremolos in the development of the first movement, a heroic close
from minor to major in the concluding fourth movement.
Perhaps most successful is the second movement, a scherzo. It was a
movement to which Schumann attached particular significance. Writing
in 1846 he described the trio of the scherzounusually lyricalas "romantic ... a new poetic life appeared to disclose itself to me." But too
much meaning should not be attached to Schumann's words. His diary
reveals that he reacted in a similar manner to his unfinished F major
Piano Concerto.
Beginning in the winter of 1828, Schumann turned from chamber
music to music for solo piano, and sketched and completed several
works: a Fantasie on "An Alexis" (probably the Canon on "An Alexis"
WoO 4) and Variations on Weber's Invitation to the Dance (both December), an early version of what was to become the Toccata op. 7 (December and January 1829), as well as what he later described as "short
pieces" (probably dances) and "etudes" (both i829).7
6
7

Tgb
igv II,
11, p. 402.
From the project book in Eismatm, p. 81.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 85

In 1830, as his adoption of music as a career became firm, he turned
to compositions of greater dimension. While a student at Heidelberg,
he began a Piano Concerto in F major and continued work on it over
the next two years. It was not his first attempt at writing a concerto.
A diary entry for 16 December 1828 makes reference to a piano concerto in E flat major (sketches for this, as well as for one in C minor,
undated, have survived). The F major concerto, however, was of particular significance to Schumann. A sketchbook reveals that he intended
dedicating the work to Hummel, with whom at the time he hoped to
study. The concerto remained unfinished, some work being done on
all three movements, but only the solo part of the first movement was
completed.
A number of other piano works from the early 18305 either remain
as sketches, or, when completed, were regarded by Schumann as unsuitable for publication: Exerdce fantastique (January and July 1832; originally conceived in April 1829), Etude fantastique en double-sons (May
o
1830 and July 1832), Variations on an Original Theme in G Major
(1831), Studies Based on Chopin's op. 2 (1831-2), Fandango (also referred to by Schumann as Fantaisie rhapsodique and Rhapsodic musicale,
August and September 1832; portions were later included in the first
movement of the First Piano Sonata op. II), Variations on the Sehnsuchtswaltz (1833), 9 Etudes on the Allegretto from Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 (WoO 31, 1833), and Variations on Chopin's Nocturne
op. 15 no. 3 (c. 1835). These compositions reveal an increasing concern
both with virtuosity and with the theme-and-variation principleinterests expected in pianists of the day. Schumann's originality is seen in
the reference to the imaginative ("fantastique"), and in the not particularly fashionable composers selected for the variations: Schubert, Beethoven, and Chopin. Of significance in light of the path Schumann was
to adopt later is the reliance on musical rather than literary models.
Stylistic associations can be traced to the work of composers admired
by Schumann (such as Louis Ferdinand, Beethoven, and Schubert), and
Probably the same work listed in Schumann's diary as an Exerdce en doubles sons (Tgb I,
p. 418). This (and the Exerdce fantastique) appears to refer to the work that later became the
Toccata op. 7.
9
As early as March 1829, Schumann's diary notes improvisation on the Sehnsuchtswaltz (Tgb
I, p. 177). The waltz (D. 365) was composed by Schubert in 1816.

86 S C H U M A N N

thematic material is often borrowed to serve as the basis and provide

inspiration for Schumann's own work.
Schumann considered a variety of projects. In 1831, he contemplated
writing separate sets of variations for piano, based on Paganini's "bell"
theme (from the B minor Violin Concerto) and the march from Weber's
Predosa. But it was in 1832, at a time of increased problems with his
right hand, that a large number of ideas for piano works were conceived, including the Fandango, Three Satirical Fugues (probably intended as a comment on his study of music theory), Eight Pictures
Based on Beethoven's Symphonies (Florestaniana; perhaps the Etudes on
Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 were part of this scheme), a Burla (later
revised and published as no. 12 in op. 124), and an Idyll.
Given the many pieces Schumann sketched or contemplated writing
(and taking into consideration the tribulations of his personal life), the
actual number of pieces completed to his satisfaction during the years
1830 to 1833 is impressive: the Abegg Variations op. i, Papillons op. 2,
two sets of Paganini etudes (op. 3 and op. 10), the Intermezzi op. 4,
the Allegro op. 8, the Toccata op. 7, and the Impromptus op. 5.
Schumann's first published work, the Abegg Variations op. I, appeared
in November 1831. Paris was both the musical capital of Europe and
the center of piano virtuosity, so it is appropriate that Schumann's title
was in French: Theme sur le nom "Abegg" vane, pour le pianoforte. Theme
and variations were the standard production of piano virtuosos, whether
technically demanding for their own concert performances, or simplified to satisfy the public's demand for pleasing melody. More than likely,
the theme would be a well-known tune from an opera by Rossini, or
another popular composer of Italian opera or opera-comique. It was in
the choice of theme that from the start Schumann revealed both his
originality and the direction much of his music was to take in the 18305.
Rather than choosing a theme from Italian opera (for which, in
general, Schumann had little regard) or from German opera (one of
Weber's works, which he admired, would have been a possibility),
Schumann went against the grain by selecting a theme of his own composition. Even more curious was the nature of the theme itself (Ex.
5.1), fragmentary, not at all lyrical, and based on the letters of the alphabet, spelling the name A-B-E-G-G (sounding in the German musical system as A-B flat-E-G-G). The idea of using musical pitches to

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 87

Ex. 5.1
Thema
Animate (J = loi)

spell words was not Schumann's invention. The most notable previous
instance was probably Bach's introduction into the Art of Fugue of a
subject using B-A-C-H (H is B natural in the German system). But
the approach greatly appealed to Schumann, probably because it permitted him to combine his love of literature (letters becoming sounds)
with that of music (sounds becoming words). At the same time it allowed him to indulge in his love of mystification.
Schumann took unusual care with the Abegg Variations, requesting
that the work appear before 18 November, the birthdate of the dedicatee, Countess Pauline von Abegg. But there was no countess. As
Schumann confessed to Topken, he had created her: "I had reasons for
this mystification, which I will share with you later" (5 April 1833). To
his mother's inquiry concerning the mysterious countess, he jokingly
ruled out any possibility of a romantic attachment, describing the countess as "an old maid of twenty-six, clever and musical, but sharp and
ugly." Schumann's perception of the whole affair is best seen in an
entry he made in a friend's album prior to leaving Heidelberg. He wrote
the Abegg theme, and underneath it the words: "Je ne suis qu'un
songe"("I am but a dream")a quotation from Jean Paul's Titan in
which Liana obliquely informs Albano that she is but a copy of Idoine,
the woman whom he eventually will love.
While the countess might have been a creation of Schumann, the
name was not. Meta Abegg (181034) was a beautiful and accomplished
pianist whom Schumann had met in Mannheim in 1830 while a student
Letter of 25 November 1831 in JS, p. 224.

88 S C H U M A N N

in Heidelberg. Topken later statedpresumably using as a basis Schumann's explanation to him of the "mystification"that Schumann's interest was not in Meta Abegg but rather in the musical possibilities of
her name. But it would not be surprising if there were more to Schumann's "mystification" than the simple musical play of the name itself
perhaps some symbolic association with the theme or a more elaborate
connection to Jean Paul.
Schumann had begun work on the Abegg Variations while still a student in Heidelberg. After attending a masked ball on the previous evening, the diary for 22 February 1830 records: "Abegg 'waltzes'."
According to his recollections, the work was completed in July and
August of that year. It is significant that, if not originally, then not long
afterwards, a version was contemplated for piano and orchestra (for
which sketches survive), no doubt in the manner of Moscheles's popular
Alexander Variations.
The Abegg Variations is a fairly short work, less than a dozen pages
in length. In addition to the theme (also presented in retrograde), there
are three variations, a one-page cantabile section, and a finale (the improvisatory cantabile section serving as a transition to the finale). The
most original aspect of the piece is the unusual word/theme used as the
basis for the work. The theme itself is presented as a waltz, and a
dancelike character serves as a backdrop for the work. Schumann's indebtedness to other composers is apparent (notably Weber and Moscheles in the figuration of the third variation). There are reminiscences
of Chopin as well, seen in the ornamentation of the cantabile section.
As would be expected, a glittering virtuosity is not neglectedespecially rapid passagework in the upper register, a hallmark of the virtuoso
style of the day.
But the virtuoso element is far from dominant, so that the work
could also have been purchased by talented pianists to play at home.
Overall, the Abegg Variations are considerably more comprehensible than
Schumann's later piano compositions. The music does not disturb or
startle with rapid changes of mood or texture, nor is there much use
of dissonance. It is clear that Schumann intended the work to be comIITgb

I, p. 228.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 89

paratively conventional, entertaining, and pleasinggoals that, as time
passed, increasingly he abandoned.
Despite the fact that Schumann's next published work, Papillons op.
2, contains musical material dating to 1828, it reveals not only more
originality than his first opus, but technical growth as well. With the
Abegg Variations, the conventions and predictability of contemporary
works that served as his models seem frequently to be present; with
Papillons, we enter a strikingly original world of Schumann's own creation. The music in Papillons was composed over a period of several
years. Nos. i, 5, 6, and 7 were written during his residency in Heidelberg (nos. I, 6, 7, and 9 appear as waltzes in a sketchbook). Work
was completed in two primary stages in April 1830 and in January 1831.
But Papillons nos. 5 and n are based on melodic material from three
of Schumann's Polonaises for four hands (nos. 7, and 4 and 3, respectively) from 1828.
As with the Abegg Variations, there is a mystification involved, both
with the title and with the program associated with the work (never
publicly revealed). On the surface, the title Papillons (Butterflies) is an
innocuous one. It was a common practice of the day for musical compositionsparticularly those for pianoto contain associations to the
beauties and charms of nature in the title. Papillons is a completely
undistinguished title in that vein. Yetalthough the musical content of
several of the Papillons (such as the second in the set) could be perceived
as being evocative of the butterflythose were not Schumann's intentions. He sent a review of Papillons to Topken, in which the work was
described as an accurate depiction of the nature of butterflies: "The
Papillons," Schumann informed Topken, "are something else entirely.
In my next letter, you will receive the key to their comprehension" (5
April 1833). Schumann's explanation to Topken, if sent, has not survived, but he gave a good idea of his intentions in a letter to Henriette
Voigt: "a bridge to the Papillons: because we can readily imagine the
psyche floating above the body turned to dust.You could learn a
good deal from me about this, if Jean Paul had not explained it better"
(22 August 1834).
Butterflies occur in virtually every major work of Jean Paul (usually
as symbols of the soul), and frequently associated with transformation

90 S C H U M A N N

and attainment of an ideal. In a musical sense, the butterfly could more

literally be transformed. Perhaps that is why the ascending theme Schumann created for Papillons uses all the possible letters associated with
the musical scale (A, B, C [sharp], D, E, F [sharp], and G). Each succeeding piece can then be seen as a transformation (or rearrangement)
of the pitches of the original theme (Ex. 5.2).
Jean Paul provided the inspiration for the program as well as the title
for Papillons. "Read as soon as possible the last scene from Jean Paul's
Flegeljahre" Schumann wrote to his family. "Papillons is an attempt truly
to set to music this masked ball. Ask them [his sisters-in-law, to whom
the work was dedicated] if perhaps reflected in the Papillons there is
not something of Wina's angelic love, of Walt's poetic soul, and of Vult's
mordant temperament." To Ludwig Rellstab, editor of Iris im Gebiete
der Tonkunst, Schumann wrote: "Bring to mind the last scene in Flegeljahrethe masked ballWaltVultmasksWinaVult's dancingthe exchange of masksavowalsangerrevelationshurrying
offthe final scene, and then the brother going away.Often I turned
over the last page, for the end seemed to me actually to be a new
beginningalmost unaware of what I was doing, I found myself at the
piano, and thus one Papillon after another was created."13

Ex. 5.2

Letter of 17 April 1832 in JS, p. 228.

Letter of 19 April 1832 inJgBr, pp. 1678. In a manuscript of Papillons now in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, Schumann placed at the head of it the final sentence from Flegeljahre: "Noch aus der feme horte Walt entziickt die fliehenden Tone reden: denn er merkte
nicht, dass mit ihnen sein Bruder entfliehe."

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 91

Jean Paul's Flegeljahre deals with twin brothers, Walt and Vult, long
separated, but recently reunited. The two are uncommonly dissimilar.
Walt is poetic, naive, thoughtful, and contemplative. Vult is passionate
and intense, sarcastic and opinionated. The primary plot of the novel
deals with sixteen outlandish stipulations that Walt must fulfill in order
to gain possession of a substantial inheritance. Schumann was concerned
with the conclusion of the novel: the love of Walt and Vult for Wina.
Wina is in love with Walt, but neither brother has confessed his love
for her. The final scene is a masked ball attended by all three. While
dancing with Wina, Vult, disguised as his brother, learns from her that
she is in love with Walt. His hopes dashed, he writes a farewell letter,
and in the early morning hoursas his brother drifts off to sleepVult
leaves, playing his flute as he departs. Walt hears the flute's tones, not
realizing that as the sounds of the flute diminish, Vult is vanishing from
his life.
Masked balls were an extraordinarily popular form of entertainment
during the first half of the nineteenth century. Schumann was fond of
them, and even wrote a poem about one. As his letter to Rellstab
revealed, Papillons was intended as a musical representation of the
masked ball and subsequent events in Flegeljahre. In his own copy of
Flegeljahre, Schumann amplified the general association and indicated in
the text eleven specific passages, assigning them to the first ten of the
twelve pieces comprising Papillons.14 They are brief excerpts, several
only consisting of a sentence.
In creating Papillons, Schumann's initial inspiration was the very end
of Flegeljahre (Wina's avowal of love and Vult's departure), scenes represented in the final two pieces in Papillons. But the composition did
not come into existence in the spontaneous manner Schumann recounted to Rellstab. It seems likely that he next marked in his copy of
the novel additional passages of interest in the last chapter, composing
and adapting music to suit them. The chronological order of the novel
was not retained in the music; musical effect and contrast remained of
primary significance, so the order of several passages was switched.
A comparison of the music with the marked texts reveals a strong
14

For further details, see my article, "Explicating Jean Paul: Robert Schumann's Program
for Papillons Op. 2," lyth-Century Music XXII (199899), pp. 12744.

92 S C H U M A N N

connection. After a brief introduction, the first piece, a short waltz in

D major, introduces the primary theme associated with the work. The
corresponding passage in Flegeljahre refers to Walt in a mock-heroic
manner as he prepares for the ball (and in an insightful reflection of
Walt's temperament by Schumann, his heroism is rendered "dolce").
Schumann intended the next Papillon, only twelve measures in length,
to describe Walt's confusion as he entered the ball. In the music, the
abrupt change to rapid sixteenth notes (Prestissimo), followed by the
ungainly hesitancy created by the numerous sixteenth-note rests, are an
apt musical counterpart. For the third Papillon, Schumann selected a
peculiar image: a costume of a "giant boot, sliding around and dressed
in itself." His wonderful attempt at illustration begins with ponderous
octaves (the "giant boot"), cleverly leading to a brief canon ("dressed
in itself; Ex. 5.3).
Similar discoveries can be made by examining each of the pieces.
The dramatic change in register and tonality in the middle of the eleventh Papillon (m. 32) would appear to be a musical counterpart to
Wina's avowal of love for Walt. In a delightful poetic touch, the Papillon
itself is a Polonaisefor during their dance Vult and Wina speak in

Ex. 5.3

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 18)4 93

Ex. 5.4
Finale

Polish, her native language. The final Papillon describes both Vult's reaction and his departure. The piece begins by quoting the "Grossvater
Tanz," a somewhat banal folk melody, square and predictable, and strikingly different from Schumann's own music (Ex. 5.4).
Although it was several hundred years old at the time Schumann
used it, the "Grossvater Tanz"both text and musicremained well
known. Traditionally, it was performed near the conclusion of wedding
festivities. The text describes a grandmother and grandfather transformed and rejuvenated by dance into a youthful bride and groom
transformed, that is, until the arrival of the next day. Schumann has
quoted the melody as a commentary (much in the sardonic, selfreflective manner of Vult) on Vult's hopeless predicament. Like the
grandfather, Vult's wishful transformation to youthful bridegroom is displaced by his encounter with reality: in this instance, Wina's true feelings. As the clock strikes the early morning hour in the upper register
of the piano, both the "Grossvater Tanz" and the main Papillon theme
become quieter, and during the diminuendo the melody representing
Vult's flute playing becomes fragmented. Silence (one measure of

94 * S C H U M A N N

notated rest, with a fermata) marks the departure of Vult, followed by

a brief, quiet codettaconcluding pianissimo.Is
Schumann's program is complex. But with knowledge of it, Papillons
makes greater sense. Prior to its publication, dances were published in
sets, often of a dozen. Typically they were light, at their best unpretentious, and intended as simple entertainment. No program was associated
with them. Papillons is a mixture of dances and short, character pieces.
Anyone purchasing Papillons at the time could only have been perplexed
by the format created by Schumann. But by knowing the program
associated with the work, Papillons becomes more than a conglomeration of charming and, at times, bizarre dances and character pieces. It
is unfortunate that Schumann never revealed the program in more detail, or drew attention to the pertinent passages from Flegeljahre. On the
one hand, he was always reluctant to admit the presence of programs
in his music, and may have feared the ridicule one as elaborate as this
might have provoked. But he seemed to believe that anyone familiar
with Jean Paula vast number of people, in Schumann's eyeswould
have little problem understanding his intentions. "I have a question,"
Schumann wrote to Henriette Voigt. "Aren't the Papillons self-evident
to you? I am interested in learning if they are" (22 August 1834). Schumann expected a great deal from his friends.
In his diary in May 1832, Schumann expressed interest in creating a
second collection of Papillons, an idea he returned to as late as June
1833 in a letter to the publisher Friedrich Kistner. But he also must
have realized that Papillons was not the kind of composition on which
to establish fame as a piano virtuoso. Its format was too unusual, and,
from a technical point of view, it offered insufficient virtuosity. It was
for that reason that Schumann turned to the Piano Concerto in F major,
and to a challenging work originally intended as the first movement for
a piano sonata to be dedicated to Moscheles. Neither the concerto nor
the sonata was completed. But the first movement of the sonata was
later published separately as the Allegro op. 8.
Schumann was working on it in December 1831 and January 1832,
but composition continued sporadically for some time. It was not pubThe sentences found on the final page of many current editions of Papillons"Das Gera'usch der Faschingsnacht verstummt. Die Turmuhr schlagt sechs"are not Schumann's and
were added after his death.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 95

lished until 1835. Schumann described it to Topken as an "Allegro di
bravura," a reference to the technical difficulties the work possessed and
to its grandeur (the piece begins in B minor and concludes buoyantly
in B major). In addition to its virtuoso characteristics, however, it was
Schumann's longest piece to date for solo piano and his first attempt at
writing a movement in sonata form for solo piano. Its structure is neither dry nor academic (the three fortissimo unison chords in the opening serve as its structural pivots). Although there is an ungainly move
in the exposition to the second theme (in the relative major, so one
would think that the modulation should have presented little difficulty),
there is engaging tonal variety in the recapitulation, where the second
theme reappears in the unexpected key of G major. The Allegro is
definitely a showpiecebut by the time Schumann completed it to his
satisfaction, other compositions had his attention, and the concluding
movements of the projected sonata were never composed.
In April 1832, Schumann began work on a series of six etudes intended as transcriptions for piano from Paganini's 24 Caprices op. i for
solo violin. Because Paganini's Caprices were regarded as the embodiment of transcendent virtuosity, Schumann's project can be perceived
not just as a mark of his admiration for the composer but as an attempt
to make a name for himself as a virtuoso for piano in the manner of
Paganini. The principle problem for Schumann lay in the nature of
Paganini's compositions: being conceived for solo violin, by necessity
they are primarily melodic in nature, often with implied harmony. In
adapting them for piano, Schumann had a difficult time determining
what he felt would be the appropriate harmonic accompaniment. He
described his work on the project to Gottfried Weber as "Herculean"
(n January 1834).
Despite the efforts involved, the Etudes were complete in all essentials in June, and published in December 1832 as his op. 3. Schumann
supplied them with a lengthy introduction, including suggestions for
performance, as well as original finger exercisesfocusing primarily on
flexibility and independenceto improve technique. The six Caprices
he selected for his Etudes reveal much about his perception of virtuosity.
The third Etude (based on Paganini's eleventh Caprice) is a short intermezzo, in many ways a charming character piece. The bravura display
associated with Paganini has been discarded.

96

SCHUMANN

Several of the piecesespecially the continuous, running sixteenthnotes of the agitato section in the first etude and the minore section of
the fifth etudesound, if not Bach-like, then distinctly Baroque (Schumann included a reference to and recommendation of the Well-Tempered
Clavier in the introduction to the set). There is also an interesting
programmatic connection. Schumann had recently seen a grotesque caricature of Paganini by the musician-artist, Johann Peter Lyser, in which
were included skeletons, ghosts, and a representation of Paganini's murdered wife (colorful legends circulated around Paganini, including,
among others, that he had made a pact with the devil to acquire his
skill, and that he had killed his wife). Schumann was haunted by these
images, and while composing the minore section of the fourth etude,
noted in his diary that Lyser's picture "often floated before me. I believe
that the conclusion strongly brings it to mind."1
The Etudes emphasize Schumann's concern to remain as faithful as
possible to the original. Perhaps for that reason, in adapting the Caprices
for the piano he avoided the flamboyant virtuosity of which the piano
was capable. For the second etudebased on Paganini's ninth Caprice
he used straightforward octave doublings (Ex. 5.5). Liszt's 1838 transcription of the same passage in his Paganini Etudes reveals a grandiose
virtuosity and a rhetoric of which Schumann was incapable (Ex. 5.6).
Schumann later observed that in his op. 3 he had "copied the original
nearly note for noteperhaps to its detrimentand only enlarged on
the harmony."17 He undoubtedly felt as well that there were virtuoso

16

4 June 1832 in Tgb I, p. 404.

Review published in 1836 of his op. 10 in GS I, p. 212.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 97

Ex. 5.6

elements in the Caprices that he had not explored. In 1833, he prepared

a second set of six etudes. The title in this instance shows the intended
differences between these etudes and those of op. 3: the new pieces are
entitled Etudes de concert, that is, works suitable for concert performance.
The six new etudes, published as op. 10 in 1835, use Paganini more as
a point of departure. The original is not altered, but occasional additions
are presentedthe arpeggiated chords, for example, to the opening of
the last etude (only octaves in Paganini's third Caprice). Greater technique is demanded, but the glittering virtuosity of Liszt is rarely present.
While working on the Paganini Etudes, Schumann also composed
music more in the style of Papillons: the Intermezzi op. 4, composed
from April to July 1832 and published in 1833. He described them to
Topken, as "longer Papillons" (5 April 1833), an apt description. Both
in spirit and content they bring to mind op. 2, but with the distinction
that each piece is usually two to three times the length of each of the
Papillons. As with the Allegro op. 8, Schumann was clearly making an
effort to write more extended compositions. But he also was determined that the Intermezzi be distinct from the Papillons. "The Intermezzi" he wrote in his diary, "should be somethingeach note shall
be weighed and balanced"this at a time, incidentally, when he was

98 S C H U M A N N

still studying Marpurg on his own.1 In his sketchbook, the fifth intermezzo was entitled "Piece fantastique." The only precise programmatic
connection revealed by Schumann for the set, however, concerns the
second intermezzo. In the slower, middle section, printed above the
melody are the words "Meine Ruh' ist hin . . ." ("My peace of mind
has vanished")a quotation from the well-known song of Gretchen in
Goethe's Faust, Part I.19 Given the turmoil in his personal life, the words
were applicable as well to Schumann's perception of his own situation.
The Intermezzi provide evidence of astounding growth. Of the six,
only one, the fourth, is short. The increased length of the others is
achieved by combining what Schumann would previously have published as several pieces. It was a major challenge to join these sections
together with effective bridges. In the "alternative" transition of the
first intermezzo, he achieves this with great simplicity. Effectively using
silence and dynamic contrast, he moves from A major (forte) to D major
(pianissimo) in only three measures. The rhythmic inventiveness is striking. Syncopation, rhythmic displacement (using dynamic contrast), and
hemiola all serve to startle and jostle the listener with unexpected variety and contrast (Ex. 5.7).
The Intermezzi also provide tantalizing insights into Schumann's
compositional approach. He regularly drew on earlier compositions,
both published and unpublished, for his work. A major source were
five sketchbooks (dating from 1829 to 1833), currently in the Bonn
University library. These are not sketchbooks in the usual sense, for
they did not necessarily serve for the elaboration of musical ideas.
Rather, they often became sourcebooks to preserve musical thoughts
already in a fairly finished state. Many of these, dancelike in character,
probably resulted from his improvisations.
The melody from an unpublished song, Hirtenknabe (August 1828),
appears in the fourth intermezzo in the original key (A minor). But it
now sounds distinctly pianistic (and Papillons-\ike), with the use of octaves in the right and left hands, and sparse accompaniment (Ex. 5.8,

jo

22 May 1832 in Tgb I, p. 394.

Akio Mayeda in Robert Schumanns Weg zur Symphonic (Zurich, 1992) notes as well a
connection to Wiedebein's setting of "Gretchens Klage."

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 99

Ex. 5.7
Animate

5.9). Schumann adapted the remainder of the musical material in the

piece from the sketchbooks, using an idea originally considered for Papillons, but with the meter now changed from 3/8 to 12/8. An unpredictable juxtaposition of musical ideas has resulted, creating precisely
the sense of humorous discontinuity (in the Jean Paul sense) that Schumann often strove to create in his music at this time. The Intermezzi
are also rich with musical allusions to Schumann's previously published
workyet another indication of his indebtedness to Jean Paul. A

IOO S C H U M A N N

Ex. 5.8
Kindlich und innig
poco rit.

Bin

nur_ ein ar - mer Hir - ten-knab, das Hift - horn ist mein gan - zes Hab,

Ex. 5.9
Allegretto semplice (J. = 50)

fragment from the "Grossvater Tanz" is found in the fifth intermezzo.

And near the end of the final piece, the ABEGG theme from op. i
makes a surprising appearance.
Schumann placed greater reliance on his skill as a composer than on
his skill as a performer. After the hand injury, he decided to attempt to
make a name for himself not just as a composer of works for piano
of which there were manybut as a composer on a grander scale, more
in the tradition of Beethoven. It was for that reason that he began work
in earnest on a symphony. The idea of writing a symphony was not a
new one for him, but in the past he had done little more than think
about it. In January 1830, his diary contained references to turning the
Piano Quartet into a symphony (sketches survive). And, in a sketchbook from 18312, there are orchestral sketches for an Allegro in E flat,
marked "Sinfonia per il Hamlet"; in fact, two themes from these
sketches were later incorporated into what was to become his Symphony in G minor (WoO 29).
What may be interpreted as the first indication of Schumann's symphonic intentions is found in a letter of 27 July 1832 to Kuntsch, where
he stated that he was about to study orchestral scores and instrumen-

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 IOI

tation. Schumann had attempted composing for orchestra before, notably with the Piano Concerto in F major, and the orchestral versions
of the Piano Quartet and Abegg Variations. But probably the primary
reason why these projects had not been completed was his inexperience
in writing for the orchestra. According to Schumann, he worked on
the G minor Symphony from October 1832 until May 1833, but it
appears likely that some work was done earlier in the late summer and
autumn of 1832.
Only the first two movements were finished, with sketches existing
for the third and fourth. There were performances, only of the first
movement, in Zwickau on 18 November, in Schneeberg four months
later, and, most important of all, on 29 April 1833 at the Gewandhaus
in Leipzig. None of the performances met with the wholehearted endorsement for which Schumann hoped. Wieck commented that the
audience in Zwickau had not "understood" the work; his own evaluation was that the Symphony was well written, but "too meagerly orchestrated."20 There is no doubt that the orchestration created
difficulties for Schumann. He admitted as much to the publisher Hofmeister in a letter of 17 December 1832, asked several more experienced
musicians to examine his score, and continued to tinker with the orchestration after each performance.
But, in addition to the instrumentation, Schumann experienced
problems with the structure of the work. The piece begins with a dramatic statement of forte dominant and tonic chords, probably intended
as an oblique reference to the opening of the "Eroica." The remainder
of the first movement (in sonata form) resembles a mosaic, each section
clearly delineated. It is perhaps here that Schumann's inexperience is
most clearly evident. Despite some typical Schumann touches (abrupt
dynamic contrast in the second theme of the first movement, rhythmic
inventiveness in the surprisingly lengthy development), the work appears labored, with few resemblances to his distinctive piano compositions, such as the Intermezzi.
Despite the symphony's failure, within a short time Schumann was
again writing music, completing at the end of May the Impromptus sur
une Romance de Clara Wieck op. 5. Impetus was probably provided by
20

Eismann, p. 78.

102 S C H U M A N N

the associations the work had with Clara, whom he was increasingly
regarding in a more romantic manner. The Impromptus are a response
to Clara's Romance varie op. 3, dedicated to Schumann. The melodic
motive of the Romance was composed by Schumann in 1830 (unacknowledged in the publicationClara may actually have been unaware
of the connection, but, more likely, it served as a secret bond between
them). The Impromptus use that same theme (now solely attributed to
Clara) with a new bass line (first conceived by Schumann in May 1832)
for a series of variations.
In later years Schumann associated the Impromptus with his study of
Bach, and expressed the belief that "a new form of variation" was
evident in them.21 What he may have been referring to was the use of
both the bass and the theme itself, separately and together, as the basis
of the variations. In addition to variations in pitch, attention is focused
on variation of rhythm, particularly in the second, sixth, and seventh
of the twelve pieces comprising the set. But the connection to Bach is
not as apparent as in Schumann's later piano compositions. The last
piece contains a fugue on the bass themecertainly not a common
approach for the timebut it appears academic and contrived (and
Schumann seems ill at ease with it).
In the variations, for the most part the themes are kept readily recognizable; that is, the variations do not depart radically from the melodic or harmonic basis of the theme to create what might be perceived
as markedly new musical material. In that sense, the approach is contrary to that employed by Schumann in another piano work, the Etudes
on the Allegretto from Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 (actually a series
of free variations), completed in 1833. Perhaps the inspiration for this
work stemmed from Schumann's score-study preparatory to the writing
of his own symphony. Two of his sketchbooks contain studies of the
Leonore Overture No. 3 and the second movement of the Fourth Symphony. But Schumann did not think highly of the Etudes, later describing the motive that serves as its basis as "very unpleasant"; it may not
Ibid., p. 77.

From the sketchbooks, it appears that a fugal finale using the same theme was considered
for the finale for the Symphony in G minor.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 103

be as unpleasant as he believed, but its regular recurrence is exceedingly
monotonous.23
The final work completed in 1833 "was the Toccata op. 7, a piece
first started three years earlier. This early version was monothematic
and only about half the length of the work as published; to Topken,
who had heard the earlier version, Schumann characterized the completed work as being "not as wild, and much more polite" (18 August
1834). The title itself was unusual; toccatas were a rarity in 1830. While
it may have been intended in part as a tribute to Bach, the only significant element it shares with the Baroque toccata is a concern with
virtuosity, a characteristic also found to a lesser degree in two toccatas
by contemporary composers (Charles Mayer and Carl Czerny) studied
by Schumann. In fact, there are several incongruities: it is in sonata
form, and resembles more an etude than a toccata. It was Schumann's
most virtuoso work to date, and in many ways the most demanding
technically that he was to write for piano. Ludwig Schuncke was the
dedicatee, at least in part because of his magnificent rendering of it.
Schumann worked diligently to promote his compositions, sending
copies of them, (and, when appropriate as with Papillons, providing
insights into their creation) to the editors of leading German-language
musical journals. The most flattering notice appeared in a review of
opp. i and 2 in the 28 June 1832 issue of the Allgemeine Musikalischer
Anzeiger, in which Schumann's originality was commended: "he belongs
to no school. . . [and] has created a new world of the ideal."24 In a
similar manner, Gottfried Weber in Cdcilie and Ernst Ortlepp in Der
Komet praised the new and original in Schumann's music. But those
same distinctive characteristics were often what repelled others. While
creating Papillons, Schumann had felt that a "certain independence" had
become manifest, but, he noted, that same independence "mostly confused the critics."25
He seemed particularly interested in winning over Ludwig Rellstab,
Entry of 28 November 1838 in Tgb I, p. 421. One of the etudes later appeared as the
second piece ("Leides Ahnung") in the Albumbliitter op. 124.
24
Eismann, p. 82.
Letter to his mother of 3 May 1832 inJS, p. 230.

IO4 S C H U M A N N

the editor of Iris; conservative in taste, Rellstab had a reputation for

integrity, independence, and modest discernment. Yet despite (or perhaps because of) his correspondence with Schumann, Rellstab found
little to praise in his music. He made fun of the letters/pitches basis of
the Abegg Variations (finding the theme monotonous), thought the program for Papillons unnecessary, and completely misunderstood the nature of op. 3 by describing Schumann as simply "the arranger."2 By
the time of the Intermezzi, he had had enough: "We believe and in all
frankness tell [the composer] that he is following the completely wrong
path . . . This type of modulation, these chopped-up rhythms... all do
violence to the authority of Nature. ... It is our wish that the composer
not take offense at what we have written, but rather become resolved
to strike out on another path."27 Schumann's concern led him to write
to his mother whom he suspected would learn of the review: "Op28
position makes one stronger. Everyone should follow their own path."
Gottfried Wilhelm Fink (1783-1846), editor of the influential Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung from 1828 to 1841, also became in time an
inveterate opponent of Schumann (similar to the opposition of
Francois-Joseph Fetis to Berlioz). It was not until September 1833, after
Schumann had written asking why nothing of his had been reviewed
in the journal, that a review of Schumann's compositions appeareda
fairly lengthy critique of opp. 1, 2, 3, and 5. It showed neither understanding nor sympathy for his music. After that, his works were ignored.
In order to gain recognition, the support of influential journals such
as Iris and the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung was essential. In addition,
because of Schumann's hand injury, other pianists were needed to
champion his work. Clara Wieck began gradually to perform them, but
even among friends his music could be viewed with incomprehension.
After a private performance of Papillons (with Wieck, Dorn, and the
Caruses present) Schumann noted in his diary that "[they] looked at
one other shocked, and were unable to grasp the rapid changes."29
Their reaction might have been more favorable had they been aware
Tgb I, p. 428.
28
29

GS II, p. 451.
Letter of 19 March 1834 in JS, p. 248.

28 May 1832 in Tgb I, p. 399.

Schumann's Compositions Prior to 1834 105

of the program associated with it. Schumann's reticence concerning it
makes clear that Papillons as he conceived it was not intended for the
masses, but rather for a select audiencethose who, like Stephen Heller, could discover Jean Paul "note for note" in Schumann's music.
Perhaps there were others who Schumann felt might grasp at least his
general intentions or who would search for the music's meaning,
prompted by the correspondence between title and music, or by the
distinctive nature of the music itself. What seems particularly revealing
about Schumann's approach was his enjoyment of it. The mystification,
and the game and playfulness associated with it, were one measure of
the originality he so actively sought as a composer. The bewildered
reaction to Papillons that he noted among friends and associates contained, for him, a certain mark of distinction.
As time passed Schumann came to acknowledge that his early compositions were truly unconventional. In 1840, he described them as "too
short and rhapsodic"probably he had Papillons particularly in mind.3
But, in 1834, he was unable to adopt such an objective stance. There
were at the time too few people able to recognize the originality and
beauty in much of his music. Acknowledgement of his predicament
must only have served to heighten his sense of isolation.

30

Quoted in Wolfgang Boetticher, Robert Schumann in seinen Schriften und Briefen (Berlin,
1942), p. 23.

C H A P T E R

Tie League of David

It was my good fortune to be part of a great event: to be a member

of the League, and to be permitted to participate in that unique
journey with them. What wonder it had at the time, like a meteor
flashing through the heavens!
Hermann Hesse, The journey to The East

"ODAY," SCHUMANN WROTE ON i JULY 1831, "COMpletely new characters make their appearance in the diary.
Two of my best friendsalthough I have never seen them: Florestan
and Eusebius."1 Schumann's whimsical announcement concealed his intentions. His new friends were to become the two most famous characters in a larger creation of Schumann: the Davidsbund ("League of
David"). During the 18305, the League seemed to take on a life of its
own, presenting his ideas about the musical life of his day and the
direction he wanted it to pursue.
The idea for the Davidsbund was born on Schumann's birthday in
1831: "From today on, I want to give my friends more beautiful and
appropriate names."2 Wieck became "Master Raro," Clara became
"Cilia," Dorn became "the Music Director," and Christel became
Tgb I, p. 344.

Entry of 8 June in Ibid., p. 339.

106

The League of David 107

"Charitas," among others. It seems that Schumann's original intention
was to use these characters as the basis for a novel, tentatively entitled
Die Wunderkinder, a work that would have included Paganini and Hummel, as well as Florestan, "the Improvisatore."3 From these poetic effusions, the association of a group of people, real and imaginary, formed
in Schumann's mind. They were united in their determination to raise
the musical standards of their day, and adamantly opposed to mediocrity.
But rather than using them in a novel, Schumann introduced those he
considered most important into his music criticism. To the group, he
eventually gave the name Davidsbund, a reference to the biblical King
David and his musical ability, as well as to the war the Davidsbund
intended to wage on the Philistines of the 18305the narrow-minded
arbiters of public taste.
The Davidsbund attracted considerable attention. Who were the mysterious Florestan and Eusebius? Schumann added to the mystery by
publishing his Davidsbundlertdnze op. 6 and First Piano Sonata op. n
not under his own name, but under those of Florestan and Eusebius.
Friends added to the confusion. Stephen Heller dedicated his RondoScherzo op. 8 to Florestan and Eusebius. Franz Otto's Phalenes op. 15
was dedicated to them as well. In 1840, a chapter in Julius Becker's
novel The New Romanticists was entitled "Florestan and Eusebius." The
mystification delighted Schumann. But privately he explained that the
League was only a "spiritual, romantic" creation (14 September 1836)
for which he alone was responsible, and that for the most part its memberssome living (such as Berlioz), some dead (such as Mozart)were
unaware of their membership in it.
The name of the League and its musical function was Schumann's
creation; the idea for it was not. Drawing upon the growth of secret
societies such as freemasonry, German popular literature of the late
eighteenth and early nineteenth century reveled in mysterious, secret
organizations, whether political or cultural in basis. These leagues routinely battled evil barons or political reactionaries, at the same time often
striving for the improvement of mankind. From popular literature it
became a part of the more "serious" literature of the day, in works such
Entry of 15 June in Ibid., p. 342. This led to the six-page fragment of a novel, entitled Die
Davidsbiindler.

108 S C H U M A N N

as Goethe's Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship (1796) and Arnim's The

Guardians of the Crown (1817).
As his letters and diaries reveal, from his youth Schumann was fond
of perceiving the musical world of his day as a kind of League (or Bund),
one with mysterious religious and occult overtones. In writing to Gottlob Wiedebein in 1828, Schumann had addressed him in the style of
an initiate, referring to Wiedebein as a "holy priest, standing amidst the
mysteries of the World of Tone" (5 August 1828). Writing to Wieck
from Heidelberg, Leipzig became the "Olympus of Music . . . [and
Wieck] the priest who softly and powerfully removed the veil from the
eyes of the dazzled disciple."4 In 1830, Schumann decided to present
an analysis of himself in his diary; he did so as if it were the report of
an unknown, mysterious third person. "S.," the report began, "is the
young man whom I long have loved and observed"5all of which
brings to mind the secret societies found in the literature of the day,
whose primary purpose, it seems, was to observe and guide the destiny
of gifted, young men who had proven themselves worthy of the society's interest.
Schumann discovered the idea for the Bund readily enough in contemporary literature. He borrowed the idea for Florestan and Eusebius
from Jean Paul. Florestan and Eusebius resemble two brothers, each
with strongly contrasting temperaments: Florestan, wild and impetuous;
Eusebius, quiet, introverted, and more reflective. Pairs of contrasting
characters (such as Walt and Vult in Flegeljahre) are frequently encountered in Jean Paul's work. The selection of the names Florestan and
Eusebius was a curious one, and emphasizes yet again Schumann's love
of mystification. Both names are unusual. Florestan, however, was associated with two well-known works of the time: he appears as a memorable and rootless character in Ludwig Tieck's novel Franz Sternbald's
Travels (1798), and he is also the hero of Beethoven's opera Fidelia
(1805).
There may have been a literary association for Eusebius as well. Eusebio is the name of a fascinating character in Clemens Brentano's novel
Godwi (1801). But it seems more likely that Schumann selected the
Letter of 6 November 1829 inJgBr, p. 79.

Tgb I, p. 242.

The League of David 109

name from the church calendar of saints' feast-days. That for 12 August
is Clara; the I4th is Eusebius. It was yet another way for Schumann to
emphasize a connection to Clara, and one to which he was later to
draw attention. The other most important fictional character he created
for the DavidsbundMaster Raropossesses an equally distinctive
name. His role is one of a knowledgeable and mature artist who often
helps to resolve the contrary opinions of Florestan and Eusebius, and
in that sense he brings to mind Hoffmann's creation, the good friend
of Kreisler, Master Abraham. Given his love for puzzles and word play,
Schumann may have created the name Raro from an amalgamation of
his own name and that of Clara: CLARAROBERT.
The first public appearance of Florestan, Eusebius, and Master Raro
was, oddly enough, in the AHgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, the staunchly
conservative music journal. Schumann's great admiration for Chopin's
music led in the summer of 1831 to his writing a review of Chopin's
Variations on 'La d darem' op. 2. But his review (which appeared in the
7 December 1831 issue) was unlike any other, giving the appearance
not of a work of criticism but of an excerpt from a novel or short story.
It begins:
Eusebius quietly entered the room the other day. You are familiar with his
pale features, and the ironical smile which arouses curiosity. I sat with Florestan at the piano. Florestan is, as you know, one of those rare musicians
who seems to sense in advance all that is new and extraordinary. Today he
was in for a surprise. With the words, "Hats off, gentlemena genius!",
Eusebius put down a piece of music.

The review (which appeared erroneously as the work of "K. Schumann") was enthusiastic in its praise. But in an attempt to counteract
its extravagant tone, it was not published in full, and a more critical
and conventional review of Chopin was included in the issue as well.
Schumann's excitement over the appearance of the review was
equaled only by the excitement he had experienced a month earlier
with the publication of his first composition. Although no further writing of his was published in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, with selfassurance Schumann continued to -write, finding an outlet elsewhere.
6

GS I, p. 5.

110 S C H U M A N N

He knew that he wrote well, and was convinced of the significance of

the ideas he wanted to communicate. At a time when his piano study
was progressing poorly, writing provided him with an opportunity to
gain recognition.
The Davidsbund reappeared in another journal, Der Komet (in three
issues in December 1833 and January 1834). Schumann informed his
mother that it had created "some sensation," and that he hoped to
write a book with the Davidsbund in it, possibly to be published by
his brothers.7 His criticism for Der Komet led its editor, K. G. R. Herlosssohn, to request contributions by Schumann for the DamenKonversationslexikon in 1834. Sixty-eight items by Schumann were
published in the lexicon, including short biographies of composers and
definitions of musical terms.
By the summer of 1834, a project that had long interested Schumann
had finally come to fruition: the creation of a music journal devoted
to new music, the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. To understand the need
for such an enterprise, it is necessary to recognize the impoverished
state of music criticism at that time. Nearly all of the leading music
journals of the day were produced by music publishers. Works that they
published were given priority and invariably received favorable reviews.
The musical taste exhibited in the journals generally ranged from the
innocuous to the deplorable. Vapid, salon music was assured of praise,
there being a consistent market for it. The reviewers displayed a markedly conservative taste, and found little to recommend in the compositions of Chopin, Schumann, and others. From the reviews of his own
works, Schumann had experienced firsthand the obstacles facing a composer who departed from convention. But he was fortunate in having
friends who not only shared his perceptions but were willing to work
for them. The time was ripe for change.
On 28 June 1833, Schumann wrote to his mother that plans were
underway to create a new music journal to be published by Hofrneister
and that a prospectus for it would shortly appear: "Its tone and color
will be more lively and diverse than others." Later in the summer he
confirmed to his friend Franz Otto that a new music journal was in
8

Letter of 4 January 1834 inJS, p. 244.

Ibid., p. 237.

The League of David III

the making, scheduled to be published in October, but in his enthusiasm for the project Schumann failed to take into consideration both
the financial costs and the need to deal effectively -with a number of
diverse temperaments. From the outset, work on the journal was to be
a team effort.
In addition to Schumann, those most closely associated with the
project at this stage included Friedrich Wieck and Ernst Ortlepp (a
writer and music critic, ten years Schumann's senior). But progress on
the journal must have come to a halt as a result of Schumann's depression and breakdown in October. When the project was next mentioned
to Schumann's mother on 19 March 1834 the inner circle now
comprised, in addition to himself and Wieck, Ludwig Schuncke, Ferdinand Stegmayer, and Julius Knorr. Stegmayer was a composer, Knorr
a pianist and music teacher (and friend of Schumann since 1828). Stegmayer, notoriously unreliable, ended up leaving the venture, leaving
Wieck, Schumann, Schuncke, and Knorr as editors.
There was no shortage of energy for the project, but problems soon
developed in locating a publisher (in addition to Hofrneister, the firm
of Schumann's father, now managed by Eduard, was considered). Eventually, C. H. F. Hartmann became the publisher. Knorr became editorin-chief, but he soon fell ill, and Schumann assumed many of the duties.
The first issue, four pages in length, appeared on 3 April 1834, the
journal being published biweekly. The title at that time was the Neue
Leipziger Zeitschrift fur Musik, but Leipziger was dropped with the 2 January 1835 issue (at which time Schumann became sole editor).
Schumann's role in the publication was extremely active. He wrote
to his mother on 2 July that with Wieck away, Knorr ill, and Schuncke 's
lack of skill with a pen, he needed to devote his full energy to the
journal. But he was unable to spend all of his time in Leipzig guiding
the journal and, as a result, a major crisis developed in December 1834.
Schumann's absence, coupled with Wieck's lack of interest and Knorr s
increasing unreliability, provided the basis for dissatisfaction on Hartmann s part, leading to an attempt to take over the journal. "We could
not have selected a greater rascal as our publisher," Schumann
concluded.9
g

Letter to Joseph Fischhof of 14 December 1834 inJgBr, p. 264.

112 S C H U M A N N

Hartmann's coup attempt came at a disastrous time. Ludwig Schuncke had died on 7 December from tuberculosis. Ill for months, in the
final stages he had been cared for by Henriette Voigt. "May Heaven
give me the strength to bear his loss!," Schumann had written to her
on 25 August 1834 on hearing that it was not expected for Schuncke
to survive the winter. Four days after Schuncke's death, an emotional
tribute by Schumann appeared in the Zeitschrift.
Despite the loss of his closest friend, in his dealings with Hartmann
Schumann acted promptly and with resolution. To settle the dispute at
the journal, he bought the rights to the Zeitschrift outright for 350 talers,
and selected}. A. Barth as the new publisher. Schumann was now both
editor and proprietor. But there was trouble with Knorr, who, as previous editor-in-chief (and one of the signatories to the original contract), felt slighted by Schumann's action and sought restitution for his
duties. It was not until July that a payment by Schumann to Knorr
resolved the matter.
Content of the journal varied. In addition to music criticism (including reviews of both published works and concerts), there were reports of the musical life in European cities (with an emphasis on
Germany), discussions on both the theoretical and historical aspects of
music, and occasional biographical sketches of composers and performers, as well as short stories and poetry. An important adjunct was occasional musical supplements. Under Schumann's guidance, the editorial
content and musical mission of the Zeitschrift became strengthened. In
time the list of contributors grew considerably, with Heller, Lyser,
Dorn, and Topken, among others. In keeping with the idea of the
Davidsbund, many of them at first used pseudonyms or numbers in signing their work (Schumann used the numbers 2, 12, 22, 32, 13, and 39).
The Davidsbund had a significant recurring role. Their first appearance
was on 10 April 1834 (signed "FN"), with another four days later
(signed "Euseb"). Over the next three years, members of the Bund
appeared fairly frequently; but from 1838 their presence is less noticeable. They did not appear in 1840 or 1841; Florestan made the last
appearance in the journal for the group on 3 May 1842. By that time,
not only had the Bund served its purpose, but with marriage and a
growing family, for the time being Schumann had lost interest in the
more Bohemian days of which the Bund was a reminder.

The League of David 113

The reputation of the Zeitschrift was made by the controversial nature
of its criticism. Its thrust was keen and candid but at the same time
idealistic and poetic. While there were those who considered the entire
approach both arrogant and extravagant, to others it became its major
attraction.
The editors of this journal have been reproached with cultivating the poetical side of music at the expense of its scholarly and practical side. They
have been accused of being young visionaries who know nothing of Greek
or other music [that is, the dry and academic], etc. This reproach contains
precisely those points that are intended to distinguish this paper from others.
We do not care to inquire into whether this or that approach will more
quickly benefit art. But to speak frankly, the finest criticism is that which
itself creates an impression similar to that awakened by its subject.

The idea of creating "an impression similar to that awakened by its

subject" was a concept dear to Schumann. In his eyes, an objective
stance served little purpose. To create in its way a work of art inspired
by the work of art under consideration appealed to his literary sense.
His criticism for the journal was invariably the most distinctive, frequently employing members of the Davidsbund. Florestan would often
expose the weaknesses of the composition under discussion; Eusebius
would discuss its attractions. Occasionally, Master Raro would be present to prepare a more balanced summation. It was an ideal approach,
useful in avoiding platitudes and at the same time a unique way to
express differing points of view. Both a more comprehensive, more
entertaining, and more insightful critique of the work was offered. Perhaps Schumann received the idea for this distinctive type of criticism
from Jean Paul, who, in his Introduction to Aesthetics wrote: "Ultimately,
I should like two completely different journals for the works of genius.
The first would need only to censure a masterpiece . . . [and] a second
. . . whose holy soul would contemplate in the work of a r t . . . nothing
but the beauty or the god whom it resembles.""
Over the years, Schumann reviewed the works of hundreds of
Review published in 1835 of Ferdinand Hiller's Etudes op. 15 in GS /, p. 44.
Jean Paul Richter, Horn of Oberon. Jean Paul Richter's School for Aesthetics, trans. Margaret
R. Hale (Detroit, 1973), pp. 243-44.

114 ' S C H U M A N N

composers. Some, such as Schubert and Mendelssohn, were already

fairly well established. For others, including Chopin, Berlioz, and Norbert Burgmuller, Schumann was among the first to champion their
work. His ability to discern merit was extraordinary. In time, a surprising number of young composers at the outset of their careers would
write to Schumann, seeking his advicea clear indication of his reputation for being fair, forthright, and encouraging.
Just as he was quick to praise music of uncommon value, he did not
hesitate to castigate music of little worth. There was no shortage of it,
frequently music for piano by budding or established virtuosos. Much
of it sold well, and other music journals regularly singled it out for
praise. What resulted was a war against much of the "popular" music
of the day. Composers such as Henri Her/, Franz Hiinten, and Alexander Dreyschock came to exemplify to Schumann the low musical
standards of the time.
It was not merely wretched piano works that provoked his wrath.
Schumann also displayed a profound contempt for the music of Giacomo Meyerbeer, probably the most popular composer of the day.
Starting with the extravagant success of his grand opera, Robert k diable,
in 1831, Meyerbeer's works were performed with regularity throughout
Europe. Schumann saw him as both a musical charlatan and a traitor.
In his eyes, Meyerbeer, who had received a thorough musical training
from Abbe Vogler (Weber had been a friend and fellow student), had
sacrificed his musical talents by creating music in a style intended solely
to please the public. There was some substance to Schumann's criticism,
but greater quality to Meyerbeer's music than he acknowledged.
Schumann was distrustful of the standards preferred by the masses,
and he seemed to believe that their tastes were frequently directed by
the press towards music simplistic, light, and ephemeral in nature. Such
a view could easily have led to pretentious criticism with a strongly
didactic and moralistic tone. But that did not occur. His caustic reviewsthere was usually no need to bring in the Davidsbund for
thesehave lost none of their bite:
Alexander Dreyschock, Grosse Phantasie op. 12
This is the first substantial work by the young hero of the piano whom
the papers speak so much of. Unfortunately, we are obliged to confess that

The League of David 115

it has been a long time since we have encountered a work so insipid. What
poverty of imagination and melody, what expenditure in attempting to impose lack of talent upon us, what affectation over hackneyed platitudes! Did
the young virtuoso have no friend near to tell him the truth, no one who,
overlooking his facility at the keyboard, could draw his attention to the
barren emptiness of the music? . . . the Phantasie discloses not so much the
work of a pupil, as a truly innate incapacity to create. This might be expressed more mildly; but when impotence steps forth so pretentiously, it is
impossible to stand by quietly.

Schumann expressed indignation over pretension of any kind, even if

associated with a composer whom he greatly admired. He did not hesitate to ridicule the beatific ecstasy of those who had begun to deify
Beethoven: "waxing lyrical and rolling your eyes in rapture, you rave
about Beethoven's freedom from earthliness, his transcendental flight
from star to star."13
Despite the success of the journal and its growing influence, by today's standards the number of sales seems surprisingly small. In 1837,
Schumann referred to a readership of about five hundred. Three years
later, he remarked that he felt the paper to be stable enough so that
even the loss of one hundred subscribers would not harm it. But the
success of the journal cannot be measured in sales. It set a new standard
for music criticism of the day, a standardgradually adopted by many
other music journals in Europethat was receptive to different musical
styles and more candid in its criticism. Schumann's association with the
Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik brought him the fame and recognition that
had eluded him as a composer. On the one hand, this fame worked
against him, for by many he was perceived not as a composer, but as a
music critic who occasionally wrote music. But to his advantage, his
work on the journal brought him into contact with a number of musicians who became both his supporters and his friends.
In the autumn of 1835, Mendelssohn settled in Leipzig to assume
Review published in 1841 of Alexander Dreyschock's Grosse Phantasie op. 12 in GS II,
pp. 24-25.
Review published in 1835, "Die Mut iiber den verlornen Groschen: Rondo von Beethoven [op. 129]," in GS /, p. 101. Adapted from the translation of Fanny Raymond Ritter
in Robert Schumann, Music and Musicians: First Series (New York, 1895), p. 13.

Il6

SCHUMANN

duties as conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra. Schumann had met

Mendelssohn in August, the introduction having been provided by the
Voigts. Because of the Zeitschrift, he was able to meet him not as a
struggling composer who had recently abandoned plans for a career as
a virtuoso, but as the editor and owner of a distinctive music journal
whose popularity was growing. Unfortunately, in Mendelssohn's eyes,
this was not necessarily to Schumann's advantage. Mendelssohn was
suspicious of critics, many of whom he regarded as inept dilettantes.
The perception of Schumann as a dilettante was one that, to a certain
extent, Mendelssohn probably always retained. But to Schumann, Mendelssohn soon became the contemporary musician whom he most
highly regarded. He delighted in Mendelssohn's skill as a performer,
\vhether as pianist or conductor. The Zeitschrift regularly praised Mendelssohn's compositions, extolling both their craftsmanship and the inspiration animating them. Yet, Schumann was not unstinting in his
praise. While commending Mendelssohn, he could still be criticalas
if always expecting more from him.
Although only one year older then Schumann, Mendelssohn in 1835
had in the musical world attained an eminence that during his lifetime
Schumann would never achieve. It is characteristic of Schumann that
there was no evidence of envy. "Mendelssohn is the one," Schumann
wrote, "on whom I gaze upward as if to a high mountain. He is a true
god" (i April 1836). In the 18305, Mendelssohn and Schumann spent
a good deal of time together, and established a friendship that, with
some strain, lasted until Mendelssohn's death in 1847.
Mendelssohn's move to Leipzig helped to raise the musical standards
of the city, and led as well to an increase in prestige. Distinguished
musicians, many of them his friends and associates, were attracted to
Leipzig, and it became an ideal opportunity for Schumann to become
better acquainted with them. In October 1835, Ignaz Moscheles, Mendelssohn's teacher and good friend, visited the city. At Mendelssohn's
instigation, Ferdinand David, a gifted violinist Schumann's age, became
in February 1836 the new leader of the Gewandhaus Orchestra. And
that autumn, the young English composer William Sterndale Bennett
arrived in Leipzig, attracted by Mendelssohn's fame. During the time
of his visit, which lasted about eight months, he and Schumann became
good friends. Bennett was six years younger than Schumann and at the

The League of David 117

beginning of his career. The Neue Zeitschriftftir Musik did much to help
establish his reputation. In Schumann's estimation, Bennett was "English
through and through, a splendid artist, a beautiful, poetic soul" (15
November 1836). Not long after his return to England, Bennett pressed
Schumann to pay him a visit. The idea of visiting England was one that
Schumann cherished, but it remained unfulfilled.
Chopin also visited Leipzig briefly in September 1835 and for a more
extended stay a year later. To Dorn, Schumann related his "great joy"
at meeting Chopin. Deeply moved at the opportunity to hear a number
of Chopin's most recent compositions, Schumann described them as
"all incomparable" (14 September 1836). Unlike those who seemed
merely charmed by Chopin's compositions, Schumann recognized the
audacity in the midst of their elegance: "Chopin's works are cannons,"
he wrote in a review of Chopin's two piano concertos, "concealed in
flowers."14
During this same time, friendships developed with two other pianist
composers: Stephen Heller and Adolph Henselt. Heller and Schumann
never met, but through their correspondence they discovered their similarities. The impetus for their friendship was provided by their mutual
affection for the writings of Jean Paul; Heller went so far as to dedicate
his Trois Impromptus op. 7 to Liane de Froulay, a character in Titan. Both
Heller and Henselt were, like Schumann, introverted. Henselt wrote
little and, plagued by stage fright, performed infrequently. He and Schumann first met in January 1838. "We were like two brothers," Schumann wrote of the occasion.15 It was not long before he and Henselt
addressed one another using the less formal "du"an intimacy rarely
extended by Schumann.
The growing number of friendships, the work on the Zeitschriftall
seemed to provide a new sense of direction to Schumann. On 18 August 1834, he wrote to Topken that he was "now living a novel such
as perhaps never existed in any book." At times, it must have seemed
to Schumann as if his fortune had finally changed for the better. But
Review published in 1836 of Chopin's Second Piano Concerto op. 21 in Ibid., p. 167.
Chopin, incidentally, was far from enthusiastic about Schumann's compositions.
Letter to Clara Wieck of 2 January 1838 in Cl/Rob I, p. 65. Schumann dedicated the
Novelletten op. 21 to Henselt in 1839.

Il8

SCHUMANN

what made his situation even more extraordinary was his romance with
a pupil of Friedrich Wieck, Ernestine von Fricken.
The Wiecks had met Ernestine and her father early in April 1834 at
a concert in Plauen. Arrangements were made for her to study and
board with Wieck, and she arrived in Leipzig on 21 April. Three years
older than Clara, Ernestine was a talented pianist who, like Schumann,
had considered studying with Hummel. She and Schumann got along
well with one another, and matters progressed quickly. He wrote
breathlessly to his mother in July: "Ernestine, daughter of a rich BohemianBaron von Fricken, her mother is a Countess Zettwitz, a
splendid, pure, child-like nature, delicate and thoughtful, attached with
the most heartfelt love to myself and to all that is artistic, extraordinarily
musicalin short exactly what I wish for in a wifeand I whisper in
your ear, my dear mother: if the question were put to mewhom
would you chooseI would firmly answer: this one." It was as if the
mysterious Countess Abegg had come to lifenoble, beautiful, rich,
and musical.
Henriette Voigt became the confidante of the two lovers, and in late
August was told of their engagement. Schumann gave Ernestine a ring
and his portrait. All that was lacking was the consent of her family.
Wieck, aware of the relationship, wrote to Ernestine's father: "Between
Ernestine and Schumann there isI do not say an intimatebut a
great attraction . . . they have not exchanged a kiss, nor held one another's hand, but rather have taken a great interest in each another. That
reflects Schumann's nature. How much I would need to write in order
to describe Schumann to yousomewhat droll and headstrong, but
noble, excellent, fanciful, highly gifteda composer and writer of deep
feeling and exceptional talent."17 Ernestine's father wrote to her on 23
August, concerned about the propriety of the relationship, and advised
her to avoid any actions that could be interpreted by others to her
disparagement. He himself went to Leipzig later in the month to learn
firsthand of the situation, met Schumann (whom he liked), but left with
his daughter on 6 September, for their home in Asch.
Although approval for their engagement was not received, neither
Letter of 2 July 1834 inJgBr, p. 243.
Quoted in W, p. 141.

The League of David 119

was it denied, and Ernestine and Schumann exchanged letters regularly.
Schumann also began work on a piano composition, the Etudes symphoniques op. 13, a set of variations that use a theme by Ernestine's father
(who was an amateur musician) as the basis. In addition, after noting
the letter/pitches possibilities of her home, AS (the pronunciation of
E flat in German)CH (B natural in the German system), Schumann
received the idea for the musical mottos that serve as the basis for
Carnaval op. 9. In both October and December he visited Ernestine
in Asch. In November he joyfully informed Henriette Voigt that Ernestine's father had given his consent. Four months later the Allegro
op. 8 appeared, dedicated to "Mademoiselle la Baronne Ernestine de
Fricken."
It is at that point that details of Schumann's relationship with Ernestine become sketchy. A letter in early June 1835 to his mother gives
the impression that the association between Schumann and Ernestine
had not altered. But at some time, possibly during a visit to Asch that
next month, Schumann learned that Ernestine was not who she had
claimed. She had been christened Christiana Ernestine Franziska, and
was the illegitimate daughter of a sister (Countess Caroline Ernestine
Louise von Zedtlitz) of Fricken's wife. The Frickens were childless, and
Ernestine had been raised in their house as their daughter, but not
formally adopted until 13 December 1834after permission had been
granted for the marriage to Schumann. With this knowledge, what
Schumann the previous September had described as a "summer novel
. . . the most remarkable of my life" abruptly came to an end. In
January 1836, by mutual agreement, the engagement was broken off.19
Our primary source for Schumann's reaction to the affair is found in
a letter he wrote to Clara on n February 1838, the same letter in which
he described his depression and the frightful night of 17/18 October
1833. During that episode he had visited a physician and told him he
feared he might take his own life, but

Letter to his mother of 5 September 1834 inJgBr, p. 256.

XQ

Schumann met her for the last time in August 1837 and returned her letters to her.
He later told Clara that the engagement had not been "definite" (letter of 13 July 1838).
This statement does not ring true and is contradicted by Schumann's assertion to Henriette
Voigt.

I2O S C H U M A N N

The doctor comforted me kindly, and finally said with a smile: 'Medicine
is of no help here. Find a wife for yourself; she will soon cure you.' . . .
Then came Ernestineas good a girl as ever there wasShe, I thought, is
the one who will save you. I wanted to cling with all my power to some
woman. I felt bettershe loved me, that was clearYou know allthe
separation, that we wrote to each other. . . . But now that she was away,
and I began to think of how it might end, when I learned of her poverty,
that I myself, no matter how industrious I might be, earned little, I felt
enchainedI saw no end, no reliefthen in addition I heard of unfortunate family complications which involved Ernestine, and for which I
naturally blamed her, because she had long concealed it from me. All this
taken togethercursed meI must confess that I grew colder.

The two reasons given by Schumann as the basis for breaking off the
engagementher poverty and the "unfortunate family complications"
(presumably her illegitimacy)should have provided no obstacle had
he actually loved her. At that time, Schumann saw no great earning
potential for himself, evidently not enough to support a wife and family
in the style he desired. Ernestine's supposed wealth had been intended
by Schumann to serve as the basis for their household. He was not
prepared to abandon music and adopt another profession in order to
gain a more stable income. If it were necessary to choose between
Ernestine and his career in music, Schumann's choice was clear. He was
troubled as well by her illegitimacy, but seemed particularly concerned
that she had not told him about it earlier. In fact, the hurried adoption
in December 1834 could have been interpreted as a means of concealing
it. This lack of openness and trust disturbed him.
But it was the realization of his love for Claranot Ernestine's illegitimacy and her comparative povertythat had been the deciding
factor for him. During much of 1834, Clara had been on tour. When
she returned, she seemed different. "You were no longer a child with
whom I could laugh and play," he wrote to her. "You spoke so intelligently, and in your eyes I saw a secret love" (n February 1838).
During the summer and autumn of 1835, they spent much time together. The diary records: "Clara's eyes and her love . . . the first kiss
in November."20 Clara, too, remembered the first kiss. It occurred one
2O

Recollected in 1838. Tgb I, p. 421.

The League of David 121

evening while leaving the Wieck house, as Clara guided him with a
light down the stairs. "When you first kissed me," she recalled, "I
thought I was going to faint. Everything turned black before my eyes.
I could scarcely hold the lamp to show the way" (16 December 1838).
Although it was not until 1835 that they professed and acknowledged
their love for one another, the special relationship uniting them had
been apparent to othersnot least to Ernestine. "I have always
thought," she wrote when she learned of their engagement, "that you
could only love Clara."21

Letter from Schumann to Clara of 26 October 1838 in Cl/Rob I, p. 276.

C H A P T E R

Courtship and Marriage

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Shakespeare, The Twenty-ninth Sonnet

ITH THEIR LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER NOW ACKNOWLEDGED,

and his association with Ernestine formally broken off, Schumann undoubtedly felt it would be a simple matter to gain the consent
of Clara's father, and that their marriage would take place within a
reasonable period of time. But Schumann was to find in Friedrich
Wieck a stubborn, persistent, cunning, and often unethical opponent
who would stop at nothing to prevent his daughter's marriage to Schumann. Why did Wieck react in such a manner? Writing to Baron von
Fricken, he had described Schumann as "noble, excellent, fanciful,
highly gifteda composer and writer of deep feeling and exceptional
talent"admirable characteristics for a prospective son-in-law. Yet,
within a few years, Wieck was publicly vilifying both his daughter and
Schumann. Probably the deciding factor for Wieck was his conviction

122

Courtship and Marriage 123

that all of the efforts he had made on his daughter's behalf would
ultimately be wasted. There was not a single, notable instance of a
female pianistno matter how giftedcontinuing her career with any
regularity after marriage.
Wieck, who had noticed the attraction between Schumann and Ernestine, did not fail to perceive the growing relationship between his
daughter and Schumann. He decided on a course of action that he was
to use with some regularity: to separate them. Wieck and Clara left for
Dresden in January 1836, but on 7 February Wieck returned to Leipzig
on business. Schumann heard of his return and, accompanied by a
friend, went to Dresden where he met secretly with Clara over a threeday period. He later described them as "holy, unforgettable" days.
Wieck learned of the meetings and was furious. Schumann's secretive
visits had been improper, and he must have appeared shamefaced. Clara
was only sixteen at the time; Schumann was twenty-five. Still, Wieck's
reaction was extreme. He supposedly threatened to shoot Schumann
and banned him from his home. Wieck and Clara soon left on a concert
tour, and did not return until April.
There had been a sense of urgency to Schumann's visit to Dresden
in February. His mother had died on the 4th. Distraught, Schumann
did not attend the funeral. He had most recently spoken with her in
December, and discussed with her the end of his relationship with Ernestine. Clara must have been discussed as well, and it is likely that
Christiane Schumann, who was fond of Clara, gave her blessing to their
love and encouraged their marriage. It must have been a source of
profound distress for Schumann at the time of his bereavement to encounter Wieck's unexpected resistance.
Schumann and Clara were not to meet again for nearly eighteen
months. During that time, Clara was frequently on tour. There was no
communication between them. When Schumann sent to Clara a copy
of his First Piano Sonata op. npublished on Schumann's birthday in
1836 and "Dedicated to Clara by Florestan and Eusebius"Wieck
Gerd Nauhaus, " 'Schwere Abschiede'Neuentdeckte autobiographische Dokumente
Schumanns aus den Jahren 1836 und 1838," in Schumann-Studien 5, ed. Gerd Nauhaus,
(Cologne, 1996), p. 21.

124 S C H U M A N N

refused to allow her to acknowledge receipt of it. Shortly afterwards,

he demanded that Clara return to Schumann all of the letters he had
written to her.
At the same time, despite the growing success of the Zeitschrift, Schumann was meeting increasing difficulty and frustration in his professional life. There were few reviews of his music. He confided to
Moscheles (whom he had befriended): "Music publishers want to know
nothing of me" (8 March 1836). Additional proof of the instability of
his career was provided later in the year when he felt it necessary to
borrow money from his brothers, Carl and Eduard. Looking back on
this period of his life, Schumann described it to Clara as
The darkest time when I knew absolutely nothing about you and wanted
forcibly to forget you. ... I became resigned. But then the old pain broke
out once againthen I wrung my handsin the night I often said to
God"mercifully, only let this pass without me going mad." I thought at
one time that I found your engagement announced in the newspapers. . . .
I was a poor, beaten man unable for eighteen months either to pray or
weep. (3 January and 6 February 1838)

In his despair, Schumann confessed: "[I] wanted to cure myself by

making myself fall in love with a woman who nearly had me entrapped." Her identity remains unknown. But in his diary (in a synopsis
of these years written in November 1838) there are the cryptic remarks:
"Gloomy year 1836 . . . looked for Charitas and following thereof in
January 1837." Did Schumann reestablish his relationship with Christel? There has been speculation that in January 1837 a child was born
to Christel; Schumann's diary for January 1837 contains the entry: "A
little girl (on the fifth, I believe)."3 With the lack of conclusive evidence, only conjecture is possible. But, given Schumann's despair and
his fear that his engagement with Clara was over, resumption of his
affair with Christel might have occurred. During this time, he appears
not to have led the most virtuous life. In a letter of n October 1837,
Clara expressed outrage over what she had heard of Schumann's recent
conduct, and threatened to leave him if he did not control his
"passions."
Tgb I, p. 422.
3

Tgb II, p. 31.

Courtship and Marriage 125

As Schumann's sense of discouragement and anxiety about the future

increased, so did his need for female companionship. In the early 18305,
he had turned to his sister-in-law Rosalie for solace and comfort. He
now turned to another sister-in-law, Therese (Eduard's wife), and she
became a valued confidante. "In this deadly anxiety which sometimes
comes over me, I have no one but you," he wrote to her on 31 December i836.4
The initiative to reestablish his relationship with Clara was undertaken by Clara herself. On 13 August 1837, she performed three of
Schumann's Etudes symphoniques at a concert in Leipzig. It was, she later
wrote to him, the only way she could reveal her feelings to him. At
about the same time, through their mutual friend, Ernst Becker, Clara
asked Schumann to give back to her the letters he had previously written to her and that her father had demanded that she return. Schumann
refusedand asked if she would like new ones in their place. He wrote
to her on the I3th. On the I4th (Eusebius's saint's day), they became
engaged. "An eternal union," Schumann wrote in his diary.5 A year
and a half had passed since they had first determined on an engagement,
and both Clara and Schumann seemed to believe that now her father
would relent.
Schumann had never written to Wieck formally asking for his
daughter's hand. On Clara's birthday (13 September), he did so, telling
Wieck of their mutual love and of his commitment to her. The exact
nature of Wieck's response is not known. What is clear is that he did
not forbid the marriage outright, but demanded they wait for two years
and that Schumann amass sufficient funds to provide for them both.
Further correspondence was not permitted, and all meetings between
them would need to be public. In despair, Schumann wrote to Clara
of Wieck's "coldness, this ill-will, this confusion, these contradictions
he has a new way to kill: he thrusts both blade and hilt into the heart"
(18 September 1837).
The primary obstacle Wieck placed before Schumann was his
A

After the death of Eduard, Schumann contemplated having Therese move in with himself
and Clara; Clara for a time believed that Therese was in love with Schumann (Cl/Rob II,
pp. 452, 462).
Recollected in November 1838 in Tgb I, p. 422.

126 S C H U M A N N

comparative poverty. But Schumann was convinced that Wieck was

preoccupied with the financial aspects of marriage, and only interested
in finding a rich husband for Clara. Despite Wieck's injunction, Clara
and Schumann continued to correspond, secretly using her maid as an
intermediary. On 26 September, he received Clara's response to her
father's stipulations: "My spirit is strong, my heart constant and
unchanged."
Some of the letters that they sent to one another during the next
two years are among the most beautiful ever written. Schumann was
eloquent and eager to display his love. Clara was inspired by his passion.
During this first year of correspondence they were captivated by the
sheer romance of their situation. For Schumann in particular it was as
if he were once again living a novel: two lovers of extraordinary gifts
destined for one another but thwarted by a reprehensible father. Many
of his letters appear to be knowingly directed not just to Clara but to
future readers.
Their constancy would be put to the test with regularity. In October
1837, Clara and her father left for a concert tour to Vienna, where they
remained until May 1838. Her success was extraordinary. As a mark of
honor, the position of Royal and Imperial Chamber Virtuoso was conferred on her. The post was without salary, but it was a distinction that
had previously been conferred on two other great virtuosos of the day,
Paganini and Thalberg. For Schumann, however, there were no triumphs. Early in November, he received a cold letter from Wieck, the
contents of which are known only from Schumann's reference to it. To
Clara, he contemptuously described Wieck as "a good businessman,"
and paraphrased Wieck as writing: "Hearts? what do I care about
hearts?" (8 November 1837).
Schumann thought longingly and frequently of her, but somber considerations seemed to obsess him. On New Year's Eve as the clock
struck twelve he wrote: "Alone and sober with thoughts of Clara . . .
but I can not pray with as full a heart as I used towhy? Am I then
so great a sinner?
Their separation proved a great trial for Clara as well. Through it
all, she showed much strength and independence, but it was difficult
6

Tgb II, p. 49.

Courtship and Marriage 127

for her to balance her duty as a daughter with her love for Schumann.
Wieck spared no effort to undermine her resolve. He intimated that
Schumann did nothing to support her artistry. Why, she asked Schumann in December, was there not more frequent mention of her in
the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik? Schumann replied that he felt it was necessary to exercise restraint in referring to Clara in the journal lest Wieck
believe Schumann was attempting to curry his favor.
There were additional misunderstandings. In her first letter from Vienna, Clara told Schumann that she had been thinking about their
future "very seriously" (24 November). Marriage would not be possible,
she informed him, unless their situation changed dramatically. Her musical career could not flourish if burdened by financial concerns. Schumann was filled with dismay. All he could offer was his determination
to improve their lot, and a dry assertion that in several years he would
be able to support "one or even two wives" (28 November).
Schumann laid great value on the symbolic meaning of rings. In
1828, he had received one from his mother: "I venerate in the ring not
the ring itself, but you, dear mother, and the sentiment which led you
to give it to me. May it be a magic ring, and a talisman against all sin,
and may it lead me like a magic wand to good fortune."7 The ring he
had given to Clara was special to him, but when he wrote to her of it,
she responded incredulously: "You put your trust in the ring? My God,
that is only an external bond. Did not Ernestine also receive a ring from
you? . . . And yet you broke the bond with her. So the ring is no help
at all" (24 November 1837). Schumann was deeply offended: "You say
somewhat harshly that I broke the bond with Ernestine. That is not true.
It was approved and dissolved by both parties in suitable form. . . . And
now that you care so little for my ring, I no longer care for yours and
stopped wearing it yesterday. I dreamed I was walking by some deep
water and it suddenly struck me to throw the ring into itthen I had
an immense longing to plunge in after it" (28 and 29 November 1837).
Now realizing the extent of his belief in the ring, Clara in later letters
made a point of referring to it as a cherished symbol of their union.
It was a time of great loneliness for Schumannseparated from
Clara, denied her hand, and denied as well recognition for his cornLetter of 29 June 1828 inJijBr, p. 27.

128 S C H U M A N N

positions. "It sometimes pains me," he wrote, "that I hear so little said
about them" (22 April 1838). He felt that Clara was the only one to
whom he could speak about his art. But there were a few others with
whom he could speak, if not as confidingly as with her. In January he
received a letter from a devoted admirer, Simonin de Sire, and responded gloomily. "My path," he replied, "is, I know, a fairly lonely
onewith no hurrahs from the crowds to stimulate my work" (8
February 1838). Four months later, Schumann received a letter from
Franz Liszt, filled with praise. "Of those compositions that greatly interest me, there are only Chopin's and yours," Liszt wrote. Unlike that
of de Sire, the support of Liszt had a practical advantage: he could
perform Schumann's music, and it was only by public performance that
it could gain a wider audience.
Liszt's letter could not have come at a better time. Despite the turmoil in his personal life (or, as he seemed at times to believe, because
of it), Schumann had been writing a great deal of music, all of it for
solo piano: the First Piano Sonata op. II (completed in 1835), the
Fantasie op. 17 (1836), the Concert sans orchestre op. 14 (1836), the Fantasiestilcke op. 12 (1837), and the Davidsbundlertanze op. 6 (1837). In
1838, he completed the Novelletten op. 21, the Kinderszenen op. Is, the
Second Piano Sonata op. 22, and Kreisleriana op. 16: in all, more than
250 pages of music. Liszt, in an insightful review (published in November 1837 in Paris in the Revue et gazette musicale) had singled out for
praise the Impromptus, the Sonata op. n, and Concert sans orchestre op.
14Despite Liszt's support, they did not meet until mid-March 1840,
when Schumann traveled to Dresden to hear Liszt perform. A short
time later, he came to Leipzig. "[Liszt] said to me yesterday, 'It is as if
I had known you for twenty years'and I feel the same way"but
despite being awed by Liszt's phenomenal musical ability, Schumann
was put off by what he described as the "tinsel"Liszt's showmanship.9
He was to be disappointed as well in his hope of broader recognition
as a result of Liszt's support. Unfortunately, on those occasions when
Quoted in Wolfgang Boetticher, ed. Briefe und Gedichte aus dem Album Robert und Clam
Schumanns (Leipzig, 1981), p. 109.
9
Letter to Clara of 18 March 1840 in Litzmann I, p. 413.

Courtship and Marriage 129

Liszt did perform Schumann's music in public, audiences did not comprehend it and vastly preferred more conventional, virtuoso showpieces.
With the return of Clara from Vienna in May 1838, she and Schumann met frequently in secret. But Wieck kept a watchful eye on her,
even conducting occasional searches for letters from Schumann. Two
years earlier at the outset of their struggles, Schumann had described
Wieck as "an honorable man, but a hothead" (i March 1836). Now
he saw him as a Philistinematerialistic, unfeeling, and concerned only
with finding a rich husband for his daughter. It was at this point that
Wieck's conduct became clearly malicious. In July, Clara reported that
he had contacted Ernestine von Fricken in an attempt to stir up trouble.
Matters were not helped by the presence of the composer Louis Rakemann who, six years younger than Schumann, was in love with Clara
and doted on her. Clara found his presence annoying, but Wieck encouraged his visits.
The uncertainty and seemingly unending struggle took its toll. In his
diary that August, Schumann described one episodean anxiety attack
of fearful proportionsthat brings to mind the dreadful night of i y/18
October five years earlier. "Tuesday the entire day and night, the most
frightful of my life. I thought I must burn up with anxiety and fear. In
the afternoon a good letter from Clara arrived, the first in two weeks
but it did not helpall came togetherthat we must soon part, the
fear, whether I would be able to succeed, alone in a large cityfor a
moment in the night I thought I could bear it no longer ... an unending, painful, tormenting musicGod preserve me from dying in such
a manner."10
Schumann's anxiety stemmed from his recent decision to travel to
Vienna and publish the Zeitschrift there. Wieck had never wavered in
his insistence that the primary obstacle to their marriage was Schumann's limited income. "It is settled," Wieck wrote in Clara's diary,
"that Clara can never live in poverty and obscuritybut must have
over 2,000 talers a year to spend." Leipzig, Wieck asserted, would
never be able to supply Schumann with the requisite income. Clara
IO

7 August 1838 in Tgb II, p. 61.

Quoted in Nancy B. Reich, Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985),
p. 83. 2,000 guilders (according to Clara, 1,600-1,800 talers) seems to be meant here.

130 S C H U M A N N

interpreted his remarks to mean that if Schumann were to settle in a

larger city and succeed there, Wieck would support their marriage. The
idea of moving to Vienna strongly appealed to her. She had been
charmed by her stay there, and described the city to Schumann as possessing a stimulating and elevated musical life.
When he received word from Clara that a successful move to Vienna
would resolve the concerns of her father, Schumann reacted with enthusiasm. But he had some reservations. "I am a Saxon through and
through," he noted, and he felt it would be difficult to leave his family
and be far from his homeland (19 March 1838). Schumann also wondered if the move had been devised by Wieck as an ideal means of
getting Schumann out of Leipzig and away from Clara. But because of
Clara's influence, Schumann began seriously to consider moving to Vienna as early as March 1838. He tentatively set the date for their marriageEaster 1840and left Leipzig on 27 September. It was, his diary
noted, "my first step as a man"
Schumann's primary concern in Vienna was convincing the Austrian
censors to permit publication of his journal. Censorship in Austria was
severe, a result of the policy of repression initiated by Metternich after
the fall of Napoleon in 1815even Schumann's copies of Jean Paul
and Byron were retained at the border. Schumann, whose Zeitschrift had
no political tendencies, hoped to encounter few difficulties. In addition,
Count Joseph Sedlnitzsky, the powerful director of censorship, had been
a supporter of Clara during her earlier visit to Vienna and, it was hoped,
would prove receptive.
Schumann arrived in Vienna on 3 October, and six days later met
with Sedlnitzsky (whom he described as friendly toward him). He was
told that, because he was a foreigner, it was first of all necessary to
find an Austrian publisher willing to publish the journal. Initially,
Tobias Haslinger-who, in addition to publishing the Allgemeine musikalischer Anzeiger, had published Schumann's opp. 13, 14, and 16
was approached, but he made excessive demands. Schumann then
turned to the publisher, Carl Gerold. Formal government application
for publication was initiated.
"You will regret ever having come here," Haslinger had told Schu12

Tgb II, p. 68.

Courtship and Marriage 131

mann not long after his arrival (25 October 1838). It is not clear
whether his statement was meant as a threat or as a comment on Schumann's naivete. But Schumann soon became frustrated with the situation. As time passed, it became apparent that he was dealing with a
large and omnipotent bureaucracy. All of Schumann's effortsincluding
asking Clara to write to a lady-in-waiting of the Empress whom she
knew from her earlier visitwere without effect. As the process
dragged on, it began to resemble a nightmarish episode by Kafka. By
mid-October, Schumann was considering other cities (Paris and London) as possible sites for the Zeitschrift. "Believe me, Therese," he wrote
to his sister-in-law in December, "if it depended on me alone, I would
return to Leipzig tomorrow. Leipzig is not as small a place as I thought.
Here there is as much gossip and provincialism as in Zwickau" (18
December 1838). What Schumann was gradually discovering was that
small-mindedness and pettiness could present obstacles even more formidable than censorship.
Disheartening news was received from Clara not long after his arrival. Wieck told her that he would "never give [his] consent" to their
marriage, even if Schumann were to meet with success in Vienna (i
October 1838). That month he wrote directly to Schumann (the contents are not known). Clara was astounded by the letter; Schumann
felt insulted. His diary and correspondence reflected his profound
depression.
For months, Schumann persisted in his attempt to gain official sanction from the authorities. He still remained hopeful. To Oswald Lorenz,
managing the Zeitschrift in his absence, Schumann wrote that publication
of the journal in Vienna might now be delayed until July 1839. But
even Clara became disgusted with the delays and obstacles, and advocated returning to Leipzig, where she now felt they would be better
off. Finally, early in March, Schumann received word that permission
to publish the Zeitschrift in Vienna had been denied. The reason for the
decision is not known, but there are several possibilities. Most plausible
is that the censor received malicious reports about Schumann, possibly
from the editors of rival journals. Schumann speculated that Wieck
had written directly to Sedlnitzsky in an attempt to undermine his position; there is no evidence for this assertion, but at one point Clara did
inform Schumann that Wieck had written to Haslinger, among others.

132 S C H U M A N N

Schumann strongly suspected that, fearful of the competition the Zeitschrift would provide, Haslinger may have had a hand in the decision13
But even if no damaging reports had been received, it is quite possible
that the Austrian censors would have been disturbed by what they perceived as the revolutionary tendencies of the Zeitschrift. At a time when
secret and prohibited political societies such as the Carbonari were
flourishing, the Davidsbund itself might have been suspect.
In mid-March, Schumann wrote to Clara, announcing that he would
leave early in April. But he was reluctant to accept defeat and hesitant
to abandon plans for moving to Vienna. He suggested that before their
marriage Clara return to Vienna to perform and that they settle there
if possible publishing the Zeitschrift in Vienna starting in 1841. A few
days before his departure, an additional complication arose. Schumann
informed Clara that Haslinger had now expressed his willingness to
publish the Zeitschrift, if Schumann served as editor in Germany. But
Schumann was suspicious of the offer, and then, when he appeared to
believe that Haslinger was sincere, failed to follow up on it before
leaving Vienna.
Despite his assertions to Clara, Schumann had had his fill of Vienna.
His struggle with censorship had been exasperating, but even more
disturbing had been the musical life in the city. He had not found the
musical Arcadia that Clara had described. Instead, in his eyes the general
musical perception of Vienna, with its fondness for light, entertaining
music, had been confirmed. Schumann had been surprised both by the
number of musical cliques and their pettiness. Vienna is a city, he wrote
in the Zeitschrift in 1838, where "they are afraid of everything new, of
everything that strays from the beaten track. Even in music they want
nothing revolutionary"a comment that in itself must have endeared
him to the censors.14 "The Viennese," he confided to Carl Kossmaly
on i September 1842, "are an ignorant people, and actually know little
of what occurs outside their city."
Schumann left Vienna on 5 April (his departure hastened by news
he had received that his brother Eduard was seriously ill). But despite
See the letter to Clara of 4 February 1839 in Cl/Rob II, p. 381. After Schumann's departure
from Vienna, Haslinger disappears as a significant publisher of Schumann's works.
Review of Berlioz's compositions in 1838 in GS I, p. 31.

Courtship and Marriage 133

his disappointment, the six months spent in Vienna had not been
wasted. By attending regularly concerts and performances of opera,
Schumann had come into contact with a good deal of music (some of
it, such as Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore, not at all to his liking). He also
had been active as a composer, completing in all essentials four works
(the Arabesque op. 18, Blumenstuck op. 19, Nachtstucke op. 23, and Humoreske op. 20), and beginning work on three others (the Faschingsschwank cms Wien op. 26, Four Pieces for Piano op. 32, and a Piano
Concerto in D minor). Because of his admiration for Schubert, he had
made a point of looking up Schubert's brother, Ferdinand. Ferdinand
possessed a number of his brother's manuscripts, both musical and literary. As a result, Schumann arranged to have several of Schubert's
letters and the autobiographical "My Dream" published in the Zeitschrift. Schumann also examined a group of unpublished compositions
by Schubert, writing to Breitkopf & Hartel to aid their publication.
Most significant of all had been Schumann's discovery of Schubert's
last symphony (No. 9. "The Great," in C major). Schumann took an
active role in arranging its publication by Breitkopf, leading to its successful premiere by Mendelssohn and the Gewandhaus Orchestra on 21
March. He was enthusiastic about his find"a magnificent work,
somewhat long, but extraordinarily full of life, and completely new in
character"15and wrote a lengthy and laudatory review of the work
for the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. To write it, he used what he felt was
a precious relic discovered in Vienna. Not long after his arrival, Schumann had visited Beethoven's grave and found a pen-nib near it. His
diary took note of the "strength and happy thoughts" it imparted.16
Schumann used it in writing the review of Schubert's symphony, concluding: "I only use it on festive occasions, such as today."17 Two years
later, he used the pen-nib to write the Symphony in B flat major op.
38, his first major orchestral composition.
During Schumann's residence in Vienna, Clara had been preparing
a concert tour to Paris, with the possibility of following it with a trip
to London. The journey was to be made without Wieck, who did not
Letter to Kossmaly of 8 January 1842 in Br, p. 212.
October 1838 in Tgb II, p. 73.
Review of Schubert's C major Symphony published in 1840 in GS I, p. 464.

134 ' S C H U M A N N

disguise his hope of its failure in order to emphasize her continued

dependence on him. From the beginning, he had made a point of
telling Clara that he would do nothing to help her earn any money
that could be used as a basis for achieving the financial security he had
stipulated as a requirement for her marriage to Schumann.
Despite her father's refusal to accompany her, Clara remained determined to make the trip. Her independence was extraordinary. Not just
her concert tours but much of the day-to-day existence of her life had
been controlled by her father. Now she would to a great extent be on
her own, and would be responsible not just for performing brilliantly
but for arranging all aspects of the tourincluding mundane but essential matters such as accommodations, rental of the concert hall, locating a suitable instrument to perform on, having it tuned, tickets,
reimbursement for any assisting musicians, and so on. At the time, it
would have been expected for a manhusband, father, or manager
to handle those aspects of the journey. Clara's tour to the musical capital
of Europe was an emphatic confirmation of her determination, courage,
and ambition.
She left on 8 January 1839, accompanied by a salaried companion (a
Frenchwoman by the name of Claudine Dufourd selected by Wieck)
whom she disliked and distrusted, and whom she was relieved to dismiss
in March. The itinerary included several concerts in Germany, and, in
the midst of her performances, she received some welcome news: in
November Ernestine von Fricken had been married to Count Wilhelm
von Zedtwitz. No time was lost in writing to Schumann about it, who
also appeared relieved. He had felt some guilt for his conduct toward
her. Now that Ernestine was married (and, as she reported to Clara,
extremely happy), his guilt lessened, as did his concern that Ernestine
would supply Wieck with malicious information to be used against him.
There had actually been no cause for Schumann's concern. Both before
and after her marriage, Ernestine was steadfast in her support of them.
On 6 February, Clara arrived in Paris, where she was to remain for
more than six months. In her father's absence, she felt increasingly isoThe remainder of her life was unfortunate: after less than eight months of marriage, her
husband died intestate in 1839. Ernestine received no financial support, and later wrote to
both Clara and Schumann despairingly. She died of typhus in 1843.

Courtship and Marriage 135

lated and low in spirits. Schumann responded with his unwavering support. But it was late in the concert season, and despite playing well,
Clara was not satisfied. She had hoped for a triumph similar to what
she had experienced in Vienna, but that had not been the case. Although she met many of the notables in Paris, including Meyerbeer
and Heine, she was sensitive and quick to take offense, seeming to
believe at times that nearly everyone was working against her. Schumann's friends and associates in Paris had been counted on for their
support. But Clara became highly critical of the two from whom the
most had been expected: Hector Berliozwhose Symphonic fantastique
Schumann had praised with remarkable discernment in the Zeitschrtft
and Stephen Heller. Both, Clara mistakenly believed, were hostile to
her. Schumann offered constant praise, and enthusiastically encouraged
her to continue her tour by traveling to London. But she thought it
best to remain in Paris for the year, and to play again in the next concert
season.
Not long after her arrival, Clara had renewed contact with a good
friend now living in Paris, Emilie List. Emilie (whom Schumann also
knew) was the daughter of Friedrich List, who had fled Germany as a
result of political repression. After emigrating to the United States, he
had returned in 1833 as American consul in Leipzig. Emilie and Clara
had been particularly close (they had been in the same confirmation
class), and Clara, taking advantage of their presence in Paris, decided
to live with the List family.
While Clara attempted to focus her attention on gaining entry into
Parisian musical circles, her father once again began to show interest in
her. Late in February he wrote to Clara, suggesting that she perform
in Amsterdam where he would meet her, and then follow that with a
brief tour in Germany. Clara declined, but she seemed brightened by
the possibility of renewed contact with her father. When Schumann
learned of Wieck's overtures, he bluntly advised her to renounce all
hope of gaining consent for their marriage from Wieck. Now convinced that it might become necessary to go to court in order to gain
approval for their marriage, Schumann contacted an attorney for advice.
Early in April, Wieck wrote to Emilie Listwith the obvious intention of having the information passed on to his daughterand expressed his continued dissatisfaction with the relationship between Clara

136 S C H U M A N N

and Schumann. He threatened to disown her, deprive her of her inheritance, and bring a lawsuit against the pair should they continue in
their folly. It was Wieck's most threatening stance thus far, and Clara
must have been both frightened and perplexed by it. Then, on i May,
Emilie List received a second letter from Wieck, but this time a letter
that spoke of his love for Clara and her misunderstanding of him, a
letter that was intended to appeal to Clara's heart and her sense of
responsibility as a daughter. In her desire to appease what she felt were
his wounded feelings, Clara anxiously replied to her father on the same
day. Although she remained firm in her support of Schumann"if only
I could convince you of his kindheartedness!"she promised not to
marry until they were assured of a more secure financial future19 At
the same time she mentioned the possibility of a concert tour to Belgium, Holland, and England, and suggested that Wieck come to her in
Paris.
The next day she wrote to Schumann presenting her father's concerns in the best possible light. She emphasized the need for "a worryfree future," maintained that the marriage must be postponed, and
expressed her concern that by her actions she might very well be guilty
of driving her father to an early grave. With a secure financial basis,
she assured Schumann, her father's consent for their marriage would be
readily given. Mention was also made of Wieck coming to Paris and
the possibility of the extended concert tour. At the same time, Emilie
List wrote to Schumann. She told him of the most recent letter she had
received from Wiecknot the hotheaded one that had threatened to
disown Clara if she and Schumann married. Every attempt was made
to calm Schumann and to convince him of Wieck's good intentions.
"On the contrary," she wrote, "[Wieck] would like to see Clara married
to you"but simply desired "a more secure, worry-free future" for his
daughter. She added that for some months Clara had not been well.
Schumann's reaction to the letters was one of shock and anger. It
must have seemed to him that after years of struggle, Clara's resolve was
weakening and that Wieck, now with the assistance of her best friend,

20

Letter of i May 1839 in Utzmann I, p. 316.

Letter of [2 May 1839] in Clara Schumann, "Das Band der ewigen Hebe": Briefwechsel mit
Emile und Elise List, ed. Eugen Wendler (Stuttgart, 1996), p. 62.

Courtship and Marriage 137

was putting forth the same old excuses, continuing to delay the marriage, while still giving no indication when, if ever, he would support
it. This latest crisis came at a time of turmoil. Schumann's brother,
Eduard, had died on 6 April. Coupled with his disappointment concerning the trip to Vienna, Schumann's spirits were unusually low.
With Eduard's death, the firm created by August Schumann became
available for purchase, and Schumann seriously considered buying it.
He felt that the firm could expand by publishing music. As it turned
out, the cost of the firm was, in Schumann's eyes, excessive, so nothing
came of the plan. At the same time, he was considering another shortlived project: a collaboration to produce a Klavierschule. In the preface
to his op. 3 etudes, Schumann had already taken steps toward writing
a piano school of sorts. In this new venture, he was to provide the text,
Henselt the exercises, and Ernst Ferdinand Wenzel (a collaborator on
the Zeitschrift) the pedagogical material. Schumann later offered to let
Clara contribute as well, but she was not enthusiastic about the venture.
Both projects were hastily conceived, no doubt as a result of the failure
to move the Zeitschrift to Vienna.
Schumann's response to Clara's and Emilie List's letters (as well as a
second letter from Clara) were later destroyed, so the precise nature of
his reaction is not known. Schumann himself described his letter to
Clara as a "spirited protest," while Clara later characterized his letter
to Emilie as "too harsh, too rude" (23 May 1839). It seems clear that
he expressed forcefully his anger and exasperation. On 13 May, Clara
wrote to Schumann, eager to restore their relationship to what it had
been. From now on, both appear to be united in their distrust and
suspicion of Friedrich Wieck. Their wedding, they agreed, would take
place on Easter Sunday 1840 (19 April).
Now once again reconciled with Schumann and in harmony with
their plans for the future, Clara wrote to her father, painting a rosy
picture of their financial state and asking for his permission for the
marriage. Wieck responded with a ten-page letter in June, and offered
his consent, but made his support contingent on the acceptance of a
number of outrageous stipulations: neither Clara nor Robert could live
in Saxony during Wieck's lifetime; Schumann's statement for his income
Tgb II, p. 496.

138 S C H U M A N N

would be audited and examined by an attorney of Wieck's choice; Clara

would receive no inheritance; Wieck would retain Clara's previous concert earnings for five more years before turning them over to her. Clara
was horrified by Wieck's insistence that she sign a statement agreeing
to his terms.
At Clara's request on 24 June Schumann wrote to Wieck in a final
attempt to come to terms with him. But Wieck, using his wife as
intermediary, responded curtly, and severed all connections with Schumann. Six days later, Schumann contacted Wilhelm Einert, an attorney
in Leipzig, in order to take legal means to gain approval for the marriage. Einert was instructed to negotiate with Wieck, if possible. If
unsuccessful, the matter was to be brought before the Court of Appeal.
On 16 July, Schumann and Clara began court proceedings to invalidate
Wieck's opposition.
On 27 July, the court ruled that an attempt should first be made to
come to a friendly understanding between the two parties. Clara reluctantly left Paris during the second week of August in order to attend
this meeting, fearful of confronting her father face-to-face. She was no
longer welcome in Wieck's home. In July, Schumann traveled to Berlin
to meet Clara's mother, Marianne Bargiel (now re-married), in order
to gain her consent to the marriage. It was quickly given, and Clara
now moved in with her mother. She did so with hesitancy, however,
feeling uncomfortable with a mother with whom she had had only
limited contact.
The stress of the court proceedings exacted a severe toll. From the
start, Schumann felt oppressed by his role in the proceedings, and confessed to Clara that he was deeply disturbed that he was separating her
from her father. As time passed and delays were encountered, his spirits
sank. The death of Henriette Voigt on 15 October (like Schuncke, from
tuberculosis) was an additional source of anguish. During this time of
crisis, Schumann found solace in the music of Bach. "I save myself again
and again with Bach," Schumann wrote, "and derive joy and strength
to work and love" (II August 1839). Bach had become, he told Dorn
on 5 September, his "daily Bible."
At first, Wieck appeared anxious to avoid bringing the matter to
court, and on Clara's birthday she received a letter from him asking her

Courtship and Marriage 139

to meet him in Dresden. Einert, however, suspected a trap and advised

Clara to meet in the more friendly and familiar environment of Leipzig,
where they met on 25 September. But once again Wieck was willing
to give his consent only if certain conditions were met. As before, the
stipulations were outlandish, including requiring her to pay 1,000 talers
for her belongings and piano, giving her previous earnings as a concert
artist to her brothers, and the settlement of 8,000 talers on her by Schumann in the event of a separation. Wieck's demands knew no bounds.
He later attempted to charge her for the lessons he had given her.
On 2 October, the first meeting of the Court of Appeal (Appellationsgericht) was held. Wieck did not appear, and petitioned for postponement. A new hearing date was scheduled for 18 December. At that
time, he presented a lengthy list of charges against Schumann. He attacked Schumann's skill as critic and composer, claimed that he was
unable to support Clara and wanted to live off her earnings, asserted
that he could not speak or write clearly (Schumann's handwriting was
notoriously poor), that he lied about his income, and that he was a
drunkard. It was a ludicrous and in many ways a pathetic attempt to
discredit Schumann. Each of Wieck's charges could be refuted, and
Schumann and Clara remained confident, hoping to be married before
May.
On 4 January 1840, the court announced the dismissal of all of
Wieck's accusations except for the one accusing Schumann of being a
drunkard. It was a serious charge, and Wieck was given additional time
to validate his assertion. Schumann was somewhat vulnerable to Wieck's
allegationhis fondness for beer and wine was no secretbut to depict
him as a drunkard was spiteful, and Schumann prepared to line up a
series of witnesses, including Mendelssohn, to testify to his sobriety. On
i June, Schumann brought a suit against Wieck for defamation of
character.22
During this period, Wieck behaved abominably. He was the author
or instigator of several malicious "anonymous" letters sent to Clara.
When Clara gave a series of concerts in Berlin and northern Germany,
22

The case was not decided until 1841; Wieck lost and was sentenced to eighteen days in
jail.

I4O S C H U M A N N

he attempted to undermine them, writing to associates describing her

as "a fallen, abominable, wicked girl."23 Friends of Wieck were used
to distribute copies of his charges against Schumann in cities in which
Clara performed. The strain on Clara was overwhelming. Prior to a
concert on 25 January 1840, she fainted.
The court proceedings dragged on through the spring and summer
of 1840 (a result of extensions granted to Wieck), producing a time of
continued stress. For Schumann, a private and reserved man, the increasingly public nature of the spectacle could only have appeared humiliating and demeaning. But Clara, despite her father's malicious
conduct, remained torn by her love for him. In March 1840, she was
distressed to learn that Liszt, when performing in Leipzig, had neither
visited her father nor sent him complimentary ticketsactions she attributed to Liszt's friendship with Schumann.
On 6 July, unable to offer support for his charge, Wieck withdrew
his assertion of Schumann's drunkenness. On I August 1840, the court
ruled in Schumann's and Clara's favor. Wieck still had ten days to appeal
the decision, but no further attempt was made to delay the settlement.
Wieck, however, continued to retain money from Clara's earlier concert
appearances, a matter that was only settled later by an intermediary. On
12 August, the final decision of the court was announced, and on the
16th the banns were published. Schumann wrote to Ernst Becker
whose mutual friendship had led three years earlier to their engagementannouncing the date of the marriage, but asked him to tell no
one about it. Schumann still feared the possibility of some malicious
action. On Saturday, 12 Septemberthe day before Clara's twenty-first
birthdayin a ceremony limited to only the closest friends and family,
she and Schumann were married in Schonefeld, a small town near Leipzig. In her diaryon a date that she described as the "most beautiful
and most important" of her lifeClara observed that after days of oppressively cloudy weather, the sun appeared, as if to bless their union.24

24

Litzmann I, p. 409.
Entry of 12 September 1840 quoted in Clara Schumann, "Band," p. 20.

C H A P T E R

The Piano Compositions; 183439

To a pure mind, especially, the carnival appears like the return

of man to primitive innocence and joy, like the realization of the
loveliest legends from the time of the minnesingers and troubadours, or even like a new Paradise, vouchsafed to us for one week
in every year. Then are laid aside all strict social forms, because
the evil they are meant to restrain seems to have been banished
from the earth.
M. Goldschmidt, Homeless; or, A Poet's Inner Lye

HE PIANO COMPOSITIONS

CREATED BY SCHUMANN

DURING

the 18305 remain among his most popular works. Many of them
are of unparalleled exuberance, impetuosity, and intensityall characteristics that have assured a devoted following, but that initially proved
an obstacle to their comprehension. Schumann himself was aware of
the distinctive nature of this work, an aspect that he later attributed to
his youth and to the "turbulent and agitated" life he was leading. "The
man and the musician always attempted to express themselves at the
same time," he wrote (5 May 1843). But it is also evident that Schumann made a conscious effort to create music unlike that of any of his
contemporaries.
His compositions, Schumann felt, were a reflection of his life. His
love for Clara, pain at their forced separation, anger, despair, and dismay
141

142 S C H U M A N N

over their struggle to marry, as well as hope for their future together
all could be found in his work. "Everything in the world has an effect
upon me," he wrote to Clara on 13 April 1838. "Politics, literature,
people: I think about it all in my fashion, and my feelings find their
expression in music." The hardship and anguish Schumann experienced
as a result of Wieck's implacable resistance at times led him to despair,
but, as he revealed to Clara, they could also serve as inspiration: "I have
discovered that there is no more powerful stimulus to imagination than
tension and longing for something" (19 March 1838). At times during
these difficult years the ease with which musical ideas presented themselves seemed miraculous. But during the summer and autumn of 1839,
burdened by concern over the trial, Schumann found himself unable
to compose at all, and lamented over his condition both to Clara and
in his diary.
Schumann perceived much of the music he composed during these
years as in its way a musical record of his life, and as one strongly
emotional in content. These were not views, incidentally, which he
retained later in life. He explained to Moscheles in 1837 that the program associated with Carnaval was of less significance than the soulstates created by the music, that is, the distinct emotions or moods
(reflective of the soul) that could be portrayed in sound. Schumann
even went so far as to find programs and specific emotions in purely
instrumental compositions of other composers. "Most" of Bach's fugues,
he once wrote, were "character pieces."
But Schumann remained skeptical of music's ability to transmit with
accuracy a comprehensive and detailed program (such as that for Berlioz's Symphonic fantastique). He was dubious as well of the ability of
music aloneabsolute musicto transmit with precision the emotional
state intended by the composer. It was for that reason that the use of
titles in his compositions invariably took on special significance to Schumann. In selecting a title, he attempted to direct the listener with greater
precision to the program (if present) or the soul-state intended for the
piece. To those who maintained that titles were unnecessary, he replied
that a composition was not harmed by having one, and gained the
Review in 1838 of Czerny's Schule des Fugenspiels op. 400 in GS /, p. 354.

The Piano Compositions, 1834-39 ' I43

distinction of preventing "obvious and gross misunderstanding of the
character [of the piece]."2 "A tide selected with care," he concluded,
"increases the impression produced by a piece of music."
Yet, he always remained sensitive to criticism of his use of titles, and
made a point on several occasions of emphasizing that, in his compositions, titles were supplied only after the music had been created (which
in truth was not always the case). In numerous instances Schumann
never revealed his programs. He did not want to be perceived as excessively literary, that is, more concerned with the program than with
the music itself. And he also was hesitant to disclose his personal feelings, not just because of his private nature but because in some instances
he feared he was leaving himself open to possible ridicule.
Schumann was convinced that the two most significant influences
on his compositions during the 18305 were Jean Paul and Johann Sebastian Bach. But he never thought of himself as an imitator, and took
great pride in his originality. When Clara attempted to flatter him by
referring to him as a second Beethoven, he responded irritably: "Never
refer to me again as Jean Paul II or Beethoven II. For the length of a
second I could truly hate you. I am willing to be ten times less than
these others, and only something to myself (25 January 1839). That his
compositions were distinctive and originaleven if it hindered their
comprehensionwas of great importance to him. During the latter half
of the 18303, the specific influence of Jean Paul is less striking. That of
Bach, however, increased in prominence.
It is often thought that Bach was "rediscovered" as a result of Mendelssohn's performance of the St. Matthew Passion in 1829. If by use of
the term "rediscovery" the exposure of Bach's music to a wider audience is meant, then there is some justification for its use. Mendelssohn's
performance (and others that followed) introduced Bach's music to far
more people than had known it during his lifetime. But "rediscovery"
implies "forgotten," and that had not at all been the case with Bach.
"You will find that a great many organists, cantors, etc., etc., in Germany possess one or more pieces by S. Bach," wrote Johann Nicolaus
Review in 1838 of Moscheless Charakteristische Etuden op. 95 in Ibid., p. 361.
Review in 1839 of Henselt's Etudes de salon op. 5 in Ibid., p. 390.

144 * S C H U M A N N

Forkel (Bach's first biographer) in 1801, "which these gentlemen consider a musical treasure solely because of reputation."4 Bach's music
increasingly became available during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, and the keyboard worksespecially The Well-Tempered
Clavier and the Goldberg Variationswere held in great esteem.
It would not be surprising if Schumann's initial contact with Bach's
music was a result of his study with Kuntsch. Kuntsch's musical tastes
were expansive and progressive enough to include the music of Prince
Louis Ferdinand. In addition, as an organist, he would probably have
been familiar with Bach. When, in the 18305, Schumann wrote to
Kuntsch of his increasing study of Bach, the inference seems clear that
Kuntsch was familiar with it. It is likely, then, that Schumann came
into contact with Bach's music well before 1827. But it is misleading
to interpret Schumann's reference to Bach's influence on him solely as
a reference to Bach's polyphony, and to trace Bach's presence in predominantly contrapuntal compositions such as the Studies for Pedal Piano op. 56, or the Six Fugues on the Name "Bach" op. 60.
In the works of the 18305, passages of fugue, canon, or elaborate
counterpoint are not common. There is the fugal conclusion to the
Impromptus op. 5 a conspicuous and not particularly successful Bach
influence. But after the completion of op. 5, Schumann benefited from
a more detailed and exhaustive study of Bach's music. From February
1837 until the autumn of that year, he examined the Art of Fugue,
somewhat critically, for he was disdainful at times of what he felt to be
its excessively cerebral nature. Over the next two years, he described
Bach as his "daily bread" and "daily Bible," and from the diaries it
seems these doses of Bach consisted of repeated study of the WellTempered Clavier.5 Pieces such as the Fughette from Schumann's op. 32,
although light in nature, bear witness to the contrapuntal influence of
Bach, as do the Scherzo and Gigue from the same opus.
To understand the extent of Bach's influence on Schumann, it is
essential to recognize that he meant far more to Schumann than conLetter of 4 December 1801 in The Forkel-Hoffmeister and Kiihnel Correspondence: A Document
of the Early igth-Century Bach Revival, ed. George B. Stauffer (New York, 1990), p. 13.
Letters to Clara of 19 March 1838 and to Dorn of 5 September 1839 (Cl/Rob I, p. 126;
Br, p. 171).

The Piano Compositions, 183439 ' J45

trapuntal mastery. "What art owes to Bach," Schumann wrote in 1840,

"is to the musical world hardly less than what a religion owes to its
founder." It was Bach's chromaticism, rhythmic drive, and melodic
structure that particularly appealed to Schumann.
Schumann's use of chromaticism (particularly the extensive use of
secondary dominants) owes much to Bach. It often leads not just to
striking dissonance, but to tonal distortion. Also present are a drive and
intensity (derived from well-defined, repetitive, rhythmic cells) resulting
in distinctly Bach-like configurations (Ex. 8.1).
Rather than relying on a lyrical, "singing" melodic linea type of
tunefulness preferred during much of the first half of the nineteenth
centuryin the 18305 Schumann often used a more motivic melodic
basis recalling that of Bach. By doing so, and by supplementing it with
occasional use of imitation, the melodic structure became more complex. Schumann noted with pride this change in his compositional approach, commenting that he was no longer satisfied with the "lyric

Ex. 8.1
Etudes Symphoniques
Etude VIII

Review in 1840 of Mendelssohn's "Organ Concert" in GS /, p. 492.

146 S C H U M A N N

Ex. 8.2
Kreisleriana
Sehrlebhaft (J-ieo)
Vivace assai

simplicity" of his earlier works, and attributing the change to his study
of Bach and Beethoven (14 June 1839; Ex. 8.2).
Schumann's reverence of Bach made his own compositions more
complex and distinctive, and at the same time served to make them
appear less intelligible to audiences of his day. Clara felt that by creating
such original and at times abstruse compositions, he was severely limiting both his audience and his potential income. She advised him to
compose something "brilliant, easy to understand," without a program
and titles"not too long and not too short. . . perhaps some variations
or a rondo" (2 April 1839). It was well-intended advice, and in his way
Schumann complied with the Arabesque op. 18 and the Blumenstitck op.
19, but it was a token effort.
Although the specific influence of Jean Paul was not as strong during
these years, the general effect of Schumann's admiration for his work
continued to express itself in his compositions. The love for mystery
and concealed meaning remains, and, more than ever, the juxtaposition
of humor and sentiment. This continued interest gives many of Schumann's works a marked literary basis, that is, literary models (rather

The Piano Compositions, 183439 ' J47

than musical) often predominate, and frequently influence compositional design.

The piano compositions of the 18305 fall into two broad categories:
(i) large-scale works, three to five movements in length, traditional in
genre (such as the sonatas and fantasie), and (2) multiniovement compositions similar in approach to the Intermezzi op. 4, frequently with
programmatic implications (such as Carnaval op. 9). In both categories,
there is much variety of structure. Traditional musical forms are encountered, such as sonata form (the first movements of the Second
Piano Sonata op. 22 and Third Piano Sonata op. 14) and sonata-rondo
(the finale of the Second Piano Sonata), but always with individual
touches. In the multiniovement works, ternary form is the norm. But
there are numerous instances of truly unique musical structures (the
finale of the First Piano Sonata op. u is a notable instance)an indication of Schumann's inventiveness and a matter of pride to him.
Substantial variety is found as well in Schumann's thematic material
(and his use of it). The most conventional melodic structures are found
in slow movements, movements that he often intended to be songlike
and tuneful. In general, however, his melodies are not vocally oriented,
but idiomatic for the piano. Much about them is unpredictable. Their
movement can be disconcerting, with surprising leaps and rapid runs,
often creating a soaring effect. Schumann displays much ingenuity in
their construction. Symmetrical four-bar phrases are encountered less
frequently than in his work of the 18405. In compositions such as the
sonatas (which he regarded as more grandiose), he displayed considerable interest in melodies motivic in basisnot necessarily with an eye
for their development within the movement itself, but, for their restatement (and transformation) in other movements, as a means of unifying the composition.
For its time, Schumann's harmony is quite adventurous. Hackneyed
chords such as the diminished seventh (often used by other composers
for dramatic effect) are used sparingly. Most effective is his distinctive
juxtaposition of chords, resulting in harmonic progressions that frequently go against textbook models and even today can be abrasive in
their effect. He became increasingly adept at avoiding statements of the
tonic key, increasing tension in the process (the first movement of the
Fantasie op. 17 does not make a full statement of the tonic until the

148 S C H U M A N N

final measure). But prolonged chromaticism, such as that found in the

music of Liszt, appears infrequently.
Schumann's inventive use of rhythm is frequently overlooked, yet it
is one of the hallmarks of his style. In addition to driving, impetuous
motor rhythms, there is extensive use of syncopation, hemiola, and
cross-rhythms. In an era when little interest was displayed in rhythmic
complexity, Schumann's resourcefulness is truly astonishing.
Of Schumann's compositions of the 18305, an admirer recalled that
"the circle that comprehended them was at first confined to the limits
of a club."7 Not just the general public but experienced musicians as
well were confused by them. In the summer of 1838, Schumann played
several of his compositions for the theorist Moritz Hauptmann (exactly
what he played is not known). Hauptmann later described them as
"pretty, curious, little things . . . there was no real central point in them,
but they were better in other respects." Dorn frankly admitted to
Schumann his inability to comprehend some of his works. Both Dorn
and Hauptmann were somewhat conservative in taste, and what they
probably missed in Schumann's compositions was the thread that connected his works to the classical tradition with which they were familiar.
What the public found wanting was the simplistic brilliance and tunefulness that provided light entertainment. To enjoy and understand
Schumann's music, a mind open to innovation and new, often startling
ideas was essential.
The Etudes symphoniques op. 13 and Carnaval op. 9
Both works stem directly from the fanciful life Schumann was leading
in 1834what he described as his "summer novel"and both are
closely related to his attachment to Ernestine von Fricken. Schumann
originally intended them to appear not under his own name, but as the
work of fictional members of the Davidsbund: Carnaval as the work of
Florestan, and the Etudes symphoniques as the joint work of Florestan
and Eusebius.
The Etudes consist of a theme and twelve variations (Schumann pri7

Louis Ehlert, From the Tone World (New York, 1885), p. 219.

Letter of 13 February 1839 in Moritz Hauptmann, Letters of a Leipzig Cantor, 2 vols. (New
York, 1972), I, p. 198.

The Piano Compositions, 183439 149

vately described them as "Variations symphoniques," 12 December

1835). On separate manuscripts, he also referred to them as "Variations
pathetiques" and "Fantaisies et Finale." When a new edition was issued
in 1852, they were titled Etudes en forme de Variations, and notable
changes were made in the music (including the omission of the second
and ninth variations).
Despite the rapid arpeggios (vivace, thirty-second notes) in the third
etude and the frequent octave chords in the tenth, etude-like qualities
seem overshadowed by concern with the variation principle. The original title is misleading. Except for variety of texture, there is not much
evidence of a "symphonic" quality to the music or an attempt to experiment with timbre. In fact, the Etudes are distinctly pianistic. It is
likely that the title was suggested by the publisher, Haslinger (it appears
that he was responsible for the tide of the Concert op. 14, also a misnomer), in the expectation that calling them "Etudes symphoniques"
would attract more attention to them.
Schumann's Etudes are free variations, often of strongly contrasting
character. There is a march for the first, a bel canto aria for the second,
and, for the finale, a lively rondo (the longest of the set, ending triumphantly in D flat major, but seeming excessively grandiose). For the
opening of the finale, Schumann used an excerpt from the Act 3 romance "Wer ist der Ritter hochgeehrt" in Heinrich Marschner's Der
Templar und die Judin (1829). Marschner's opera was based on Ivanhoe,
the "Ritter" being Richard-the-Lionheart. Schumann intended the
quotation as a tribute to the dedicatee of the Etudes: his good friend
the English composer William Sterndale Bennett. The theme itself (in
C sharp minor) is somber in mood, and, as was often the case with
themes selected by Schumann as the basis for a set of variations, it is
prosaic, somewhat stiff, and conventional. What made the theme of
particular interest to him was that it was the work of Ernestine's father,
an amateur flutist.
Schumann's other major composition from this time, Carnaval, is
linked to Ernestine in a more direct manner. He began work on it in
December 1834, after permission had been received for their engagement. He wrote to Henriette Voigt (the confidante of both Ernestine
and Schumann during their relationship), noting that Ernestine's place
of residence, Asch, was a "very musical" name (13 September 1834).

150 S C H U M A N N

Schumann had discovered that the letters of the town had equivalent
musical pitches. He ingeniously arranged them in three patterns, spelling the town as well as the musical letter possibilities in his own name:
(Ex. 8.3). All but two of the twenty-one pieces in Carnaval use either
the second or third motto (the first does not appear). The mottos themselves appear between the eighth and ninth pieces of the set and are
designated "Sphinxes" by Schumann. But although he chose to reveal
the motivic basis of Carnaval, he made no reference in the score to its
autobiographical association.

Ex. 8.3
S - C - H - A

A S - C - H

A - S - C - H

That Schumann decided to call the mottos "Sphinxes" is puzzling.

The Sphinx proposed riddles, not the solution to them. The key to
Schumann's choice of wording seems once again to point to his reading
of Jean Paul. In 1812 Jean Paul published an essay, "Twilight Butterflies
or Sphinxes." In it he makes reference to three species of butterflies:
"Day (Papilio), Evening (Sphinx), and Nightbird (Phalaena)."9 The
butterfly, as has been seen, was used frequently by Jean Paul, often
appearing as a symbol of the soul and of transfiguration. Schumann now
discovered an ideal counterpart to the papillons in op. 2the evening
papillon, Sphinx. Like the papillon in op. 2, the Sphinxes can be seen
as providing the musical basis for most of the pieces in op. 9.
Each of the pieces comprising Carnaval has a title, the whole being
a musical representation of an elaborate and imaginative masked ball
during carnival season (Schumann at one point referred to the pieces
as "masked dances," 23 August 1837). The association with Jean Paul
and Flegeljahre lingers. To Moscheles, whom he was anxious to gain as
a supporter, Schumann affirmed on two occasions that the titles and
overall organization of the piece occurred only after the music had been
created. He may have been concerned that Moscheles, of an older generation that in general was suspicious of program music, should not
9

Jean Paul, Sdmtliche Werke. Vol. XIV, Politische Schriften, ed. Wilhelm von Schramin (Weimar,
1939), p. 252.

The Piano Compositions, 183439 151

misunderstand his intentions and perceive Camaval as more program

than music. But to understand the piece, it is essential to understand at
least in a general manner the significance of the titles. For that reason,
it would be surprising if, despite his assertion to Moscheles, a general
program had not been in Schumann's mind before the music was composedas had been the case with Papillons. Prior to selecting "Carnaval" as a title, Schumann rejected "Fasching" (a German word for
carnival with slang connotations) and "Fasching. Schwanke auf vier
Noten" ("Pranks on Four Notes"), the latter even appearing as a prepublication advertisement in the Zeitschrift.
Both the music and program for Camaval recall Papillons, notable
differences being the length (Camaval is more than twice as long) and
the addition of tides for each piece. A number of the pieces refer to
dances during the masked ball, such as No. 4, "Valse noble", and No.
16, "Valse allemande." Others allude to events within the ball, and it is
not difficult to associate them directly with Schumann. No. 14, "Reconnaissance" ("Recognition"), refers to the identification during the
ball of, presumably, Schumann and Ernestine (who appeared in the
previous piece, entitled "Estrella"). No. 18, "Aveu" ("Avowal"), would
be his confession of loveboth instances seem to be indebted to the
masked ball in Flegeljahre.
But the majority of pieces in Camaval are musical portraits, often of
a fantastical nature. In that sense, there seems to be a direct association
with the novel planned by Schumann in 1831, Die Davidsbundler. There
are characters from the commedia dell'arte whose costumes were frequently represented at masked balls (No. 2, "Pierrot"; No. 3, "Arlequin"; No. 15, "Pantalon et Columbine"), composers whom Schumann
admired but had not met (No. 12, "Chopin"; No. 17, "Paganini"), and
friends of Schumann (No. n, "Chiarina" [Clara]; No. 13, "Estrella"
[Ernestine]), No. 5, "Eusebius"; No. 6, "Florestan"). The Davidsbund
appears en masse in the final piece ("March of the 'Davidsbiindler'
against the Philistines"), in this instance the Philistines being represented
by yet another appearance of the "Grossvater Tanz" (identified by Schumann in the score as a "Theme from the iyth Century," and intended
as representative of old-fashioned and outdated ideas).
Schumann cut and pruned Camaval. There is less reliance on repeated, rhythmic dance figurations, no need for slight introductions to

152 S C H U M A N N

set the scene for each piece, a more extensive use of dissonance, and a
conscious effort to bind the pieces with a related key structure (focusing
on A flat major). To Kistner (whom he was attempting to interest in publishing the piece), Schumann mentioned that he had enough material for
a second set, but no sequel appeared. No doubt the public found one
set of Carnaval confusing enough. To those unfamiliar with Schumann's
Davidsbund, the titles must have appeared incomprehensible. Even those
who knew Schumann reasonably well appeared baffled. "If only I had
a commentary to it!" noted his friend Carl Kragen. "P.S.," wrote an
admirer to Schumann, "Would you be so kind as to explain to me the
four notes which constitute the enigma or sphinxes for Camavalt"12
It says much about Schumann's naivete that he was convinced the
sphinxes in themselves would create something of a sensation and help
sales of the workas if there were widespread interest in such musical
games. But for much of his life Schumann was fascinated by puzzles
and ciphers, particularly if they could be applied to music, and he
seemed to believe that, as in the case of Jean Paul, many people shared
his enthusiasm. His interest in ciphers was one that was common to
not a few writers and artists associated with German Romanticism;
Friedrich Schlegel, for example, described art itself as "an inner hieroglyphic writing."13 Schumann would probably not have disagreed with
the sentiment expressed by Blaise de Vigenere in his sixteenth-century
treatise on ciphers: "All the things in the world constitute a cipher. All
nature is merely a cipher and a secret writing."'4 "The Sphinxes," Schumann had written to Kistner on 3 July 1836, "are the cipher."
Schumann's interest in cipher, number symbolism, and musical/word
puzzles is frequently encountered in his writings. There are a number
A number of the remaining pieces later found their way into Schumann's piano miscellanies, the Bunte Blatter op. 99 (as the sixth) and the Albumblatter op. 124 (the fourth, eleventh,
and seventeenth).
Letter of March 1838 in Wolfgang Boetticher, ed., Briefe und Gedkhte aus dem Album Robert
und Clara Schumanns (Leipzig, 1981), p. 278.
Letter of April 1848 of Jean-Joseph-Bonaventura Laurens in Ibid., p. 107.
Liselotte Dieckmann, "The Metaphor of Hieroglyphics in German Romanticism," Comparative Literature VII (1955), p. 311.
From his Traicte des chiffres (1586) quoted in David Kahn, The Codebreakers: The Story of
Secret Writing (New York, 1967), p. 146.

The Piano Compositions, 1834-39 ' J53

of instances of it: the probable creation of Raro from an amalgamation
of his and Clara's names; a curiosity for palindromes (such as, AmorRoma). While in Paris, Schumann advised Clara to make the acquaintance of the actress Rachel. "Her name," he wrote, "has always smiled
at me. I see that your name is contained in hers" (15 January 1839).
During their trip to Russia, he took obvious delight in the creation of
an acrostic sonnet, using as a basis the words ROBERT UND CLARA.
Evidence of his interest in the playfulness and symbolism of number
can be found in his diary (including an intriguing arrangement and
sequence of the digits one to four), and, from later in life, a sketch of
a letter to Brahms whose margins contain a series of four numbers, all
beginning with 12, and placed for the most part in columns of five.
Both seem to indicate an arrangement of numerical patterns, though of
unknown meaning. At times Schumann seemed intuitively to think in
number, as when, after the creation of pseudonyms for his acquaintances
(the beginning of the Davidsbund), he noted with delight that he now
had six friends with names one syllable in length and five with names
of two syllables.
It is not surprising, then, that Schumann took pleasure in creating
compositions based on words such as ABEGG or ASCH. Such an approach permitted him to add both mystery and an extramusical significance to his worksan aspect, incidentally, that would have had strong
appeal to Jean Paul. An entire section of his Aesthetics is devoted to the
creation of secrets and hidden identities, all for the delight of the "unraveling of little knots" for the reader15 It seems only natural that at
one point Schumann revealed to Clara that the German word for marriage, "Ehe," created a perfect fifth (E to B [H]), or that he never
seemed to tire of the musicality of the last name of his friend the Danish
composer, Niels Gade.
Among musicians, Schumann's interests were not unique, and he
probably examined with attention the curiosity published in the AHgemeine musikalische Zeitung in 1833 (Ex. 8.4). What set him apart was
the intensity of his interest. For that reason, there has been speculation
that Schumann actually devised a series of ciphers for use in his music
Jean Paul Richter, Horn of Oberon: Jean Paul Richter's School for Aesthetics, trans. Margaret
R. Hale (Detroit, 1973), p. 195.

154 ' S C H U M A N N

Cross Canon
by
C.A.P. Braun

that is, specific pitches were substituted for letters. Words and messages
were supposedly created, often about or intended for Clara. Music is
not an uncommon medium for encipherment. The standard practice
had been to create a musical alphabet, using as a basis an ascending and
descending diatonic scale (with the inclusion of B flat). No doubt such
an approach would have had some appeal to Schumann. But was he
aware of it? During the more than thirty years since the theory of
Schumann's use of cipher was first presented, no substantial evidence

The Piano Compositions, 183439 155

has been presented to support its appearance. What seemed to interest

him far more than an intricate (and possibly unmusical sounding) cipher
was the use of brief musical/letter motives, such as those in Camaval.
Yet another way in which Schumann added mystery to his music
(and a code of sorts) was by the unacknowledged quotation within his
own compositions of another composer's music. Frequently, this was
intended to have special meaning. In the Fantasie op. 17, Schumann
quoted from Beethoven's song-cycle, An die feme Geliebte (To the Distant Beloved), a means of expressing his own love for Clara by alluding
to that expressed by Beethoven in his songs. But of even greater significance during the 18305 was Schumann's secret reference in his own
music to the compositions of Clara. Nearly every major composition
created by Schumann during his courtship of Clara contains references
to her work. He was thus able musically to join himself and Clara in a
marriage of sorts. In Camaval, the "Valse Allemande" is indebted to
Clara's Valses romantiques op. 4.
The Piano Sonatas
While working on Camaval and the Etudes Symphoniques, Schumann
had already begun the composition of a piano sonata, published in 1836
as the First Piano Sonata op. II and dedicated to Clara. It indicated a
marked change of direction for him. His previous attempt at a piano
sonata, originally intended to impress Moscheles, remained incomplete.
Schumann's lack of experience in creating movements of the length
necessary for a sonata must have been a challenge. He must also have
been apprehensive of contributing to a genre with such a distinguished
past. There had been no true precedent for compositions such as the
Intermezzi or Camaval, and no basis for a direct comparison to the work
of other composers. By composing a sonata, Schumann was entering
an arena in which comparison and criticism would be expected.
Because of its eloquent tradition, Schumann's perception of the piano
sonata was an exalted one (he characterized it as belonging to a "higher
genre").1 He was eager to become part of that tradition, but in writing
sonatas he occasionally seemed preoccupied with the grand gesture, as
if his usual style and approach would be inadequate. During the 18305,
16

Review in 1838 of "Etuden fur das Pianoforte" in GS I, p. 389.

156 S C H U M A N N

the sonata itself no longer had a broad base of popularitySchumann

noted that few were being composed and that the genre was in a period
of stagnation. Composing sonatas could only have been perceived by
him as a means of rejuvenating the genre, in the process gaining recognition among his colleagues as a "serious" composer.
During the 18305, Schumann composed, if not in name then in format, four piano sonatas: the First op. II, the Second op. 22, the Third
op. 14 (so called in the second edition, 1853, but originally entitled
Concert sans orchestre), and the Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Carnival
Jest From Vienna) op. 26. Two others, a Sonata in F minor (worked
on in late 1836) and what Schumann described as a "sonata or fantasie or etude or nothing" in C minor (December 1838), remained
unfinished.17
The sonatas share several stylistic traits, most notably a concern with
motivic structure, particularly for those movements in sonata form, such
as the first and third movements in op. 14 and the first in op. 22, and
virtuoso display (the first movement of op. 14 is a notable instance).
With the exception of op. II, there appears to be less reliance on the
improvisatory elements that Schumann had introduced so successfully
in his earlier compositions. The sonatas are clearly works that he strove
to differentiate from those he had previously composed. But animated
by what he seemed to perceive as their grandiose nature, he was at
times unable to avoid creating an impression of undue ostentation and
pretension.
Privately, Schumann referred to the Faschingsschwank as a "grand, Romantic sonata" (15 March 1839), an apt description. One notable feature
distinguishing it from the usual sonata is the number of movements:
five. But the second movement (a brief Romanze) and the fourth (entitled Intermezzo) can be perceived as providing balance and contrast
to the other three movements, particularly since the first (Allegro) resembles a scherzo-rondo. The Faschingsschwank was composed during
the spring and summer of 1839, a final testament to his stay in Vienna.
It contains a brief quotation from the "Marseillaise," a tune banned by
the reactionary Austrian regime and no doubt placed by Schumann in
his work as a sardonic reflection on Austrian censorship.
I7

T g b I I , p. 85.

The Piano Compositions, 183439

157

The Concert sans orchestre, dedicated to Moscheles, was composed in

1836. Like the Faschingsschwank, it was originally intended to have five
movements (two of them scherzos). But the scherzos were deleted
when the title Concert was decided on (probably at the suggestion of
his publisher), and another finale was then created. As originally published, the work contained three movements, as would a concerto. But
there is little concertolike about the piece no attempt to reproduce
the interplay between piano and orchestra nor to imitate orchestral timbres on the instrument. The title appears to have been adopted more
as a publishing ploy. The second movement is a theme and variations,
the theme being provided by an unpublished "Andantino" by Clara. A
motive from this theme also begins the first movement, an instance of
Schumann's growing concern with creating a sense of thematic unity
within his compositions.
Schumann's first two piano sonatas were the work of several years.
Both were started in 1833, but the first (completed in 1835) can be
seen as having an even earlier beginning: its opening movement is based
on the Fandango he composed in August and September 1832. The
second occupied his attention well beyond the completion of the first.
He continued to tinker with it for some time, intermittently working
on it in 1835 and 1837, finally completing a new finale in 1838. Clara
had expressed dissatisfaction with the original finale in the spring of that
year, pronouncing it too demanding technically. Schumann agreed, and
created a movement that he described to her as "very simple" (29 December 1838). The sonata appeared in print the following year, dedicated to Henriette Voigt.
Of Schumann's four piano sonatas, the first is the most unconventional and the most intriguing. Its title page gives some indication of
its unusual nature (see illustration no. 9). Schumann took a strong interest in the visual impression created by the publication of his works.
Because of the additional expense involved in the production of elaborate title pages, he was usually obliged to rely on standard title pages
of the day elegant and graceful, employing the numerous, contrasting
fonts beloved in the nineteenth century. But for op. 1 1 Schumann used
a title page created by Bonaventura Genelli (1798-1868), a gifted and
eccentric artist known as a master of the imaginative and the erotic. He
had been living in Leipzig since 1832 (returning to Germany after a

158 S C H U M A N N

ten-year stay in Rome), and was at work on frescoes for Dr. Hermann
Hartel's extensive villa, an association that might have led to his meeting
Schumann and the commission for the title page. To Kistner, who published the work, Schumann wrote of his desire for "something unusual"
with "several emblems" (19 March 1836). Genelli's creation followed
Schumann's general guidelines, but it is not known, unfortunately, to
what extent Schumann may have influenced the final design.
The title page is striking, and bears witness to Genelli's fascination
with antiquity and the occult. Two winged gryphons peer upwards at
a somber angel who bears on a plaque the title of the piece. Genelli
created an arabesque laden with symbolism and intended ambiguity.
Gryphons can represent the sun or the dawn, as well as vigilance. The
significance of the three disembodied heads in the engraving is equally
perplexing. Schumann wanted "something unusual" for the title page,
and in that Genelli succeeded admirably.
The sonata was also intended as a musical counterpart to Schumann's
Davidsbund. The title page lists the composers as "Florestan and Eusebius"; the work is dedicated to "Clara." Clara's presence is further
emphasized by the use of material from her Quatre Pieces caracteristiques
op. 5. The descending fifth bass motive of the introduction to the first
movement, as well as the repeated rhythm of an eighth-note followed
by two sixteenths, is derived from the fourth of Clara's pieces (entitled
"Scene fantastique").
Schumann took considerable efforts to gain publicity for the sonata.
Because it had not appeared under his own name, he felt no hesitation
in publicizing it in the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. A poetic effusion by
Schumann's friend J. F. E. Sobolewski ("Reflections and Dreams Inspired by the F sharp Minor Sonata by Florestan and Eusebius") appeared in the 4 October 1836 issue. Later that month, a detailed review
by Moscheles of the sonata appeared as a lead article. Despite Moscheles's age (he was forty-two at the time, and his most notable successes
were behind him), Schumann viewed him as the progressive representative of an older school and, eager for his support, had requested the
18

A new edition with a conventional title page, listing Schumann as the composer, appeared
in 1844.

The Piano Compositions, 1834-39 ' T59

review. But had Schumann known of Moscheles's initial reaction to the
sonata, it is unlikely he would have approached him.
In the fall of 1835, Moscheles had heard Clara play the sonata at
Wieck's. Privately, he had found it to be "interesting," but had also
described it as "very affected, difficult, and somewhat muddled."19 After
being asked by Schumann to write the review, Moscheles must have
found himself in an unpleasant situation. He could hardly decline without offending Schumann, whom he sincerely liked. Yet, the novelty of
some of the work both disturbed and perplexed him. He resolved his
predicament wisely. Nearly one-half of the review does not discuss the
sonata at all but focuses on the work of Beethoven and members of
Schumann's generation (including Liszt and Chopin) with whom Moscheles found similarities. In his analysis of the sonata Moscheles was
supportive but overall was unable to avoid pointing out several aspects
that bothered him, such as an abrupt modulation from C major to E
flat major in the finale (probably the passage thirty-four measures before
the end).
The Sonata op. n consists of four movements: Introduzione/Allegro
vivace, Aria, Scherzo ed Intermezzo, and Finale. The Introduzione sets
out the thematic material that serves as the basis of the movement
(recalled in the third and fourth movements). The most conventional
movement, the second, is based on a song composed in 1828 "An
Anna" (in a similar manner, the Andantino of op. 22 is based on the
early song "Im Herbste"). The Scherzo, with lively, disjunct rhythm, is
contrasted with the brief Intermezzo which serves as a trio and brings
to mind the lyrical dances in Camaval.
Of all of his compositions, Schumann could not have selected a more
challenging one for Moscheles to analyze. In his piano sonatas, Schumann's handling of sonata structure is unquestionably distinctive (op. 22
is perhaps the most conventional). Sonata form relies greatly on balance
and gradual contrast, in basis melodic, tonal, or both. In general, one
or two melodies provide the thematic material for a movement of perhaps ten to twelve pages in length. Schumann was more used to composing short movements several pages in length. And he was often

19

Quoted in W, p. 156.

l60 S C H U M A N N

profuse in his use of melodic material. Contrast was an essential aspect

of his music, but contrast created suddenly, abruptly, and unexpectedly.
His musical style was not compatible with traditional sonata structures,
and his recognition of that necessitated the creation of distinctive musical forms.
It is the structure of the final movement of op. n, much of which
at first glance appears strongly improvisatory, which has generated the
most controversy. Moritz Hauptmann's shallow criticism of musical Romanticismthat its "main characteristic" is a supposed "absence of
form"could well be applied here. (Similar criticism, incidentally,
was directed toward German literary Romanticism, particularly the
novels of Jean Paul.) Hauptmann lamented the unwillingness (and what
he felt was the ignorance) of young composers to follow traditional,
late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century modelsa lapse that he
felt resulted in formlessness. It seems odd to criticize Schumann for not
using as a model the sonata structures of Mozart or early Beethoven.
Yet that is precisely what Hauptmann intended, and his narrow stance
prevailed well into the twentieth century. Schumann's "gifts were not
those of a clear-sighted architect," wrote Kathleen Dale in 1952, "and
his sonatas consequently convey little sensation of being compact structures whose ground-plan was determined from the very beginning."
In a similar manner, Schumann was criticized for his supposed inability
to create "themes capable of development and further growth"that
is, themes in the manner of Beethoven.
Schumann believed that one of the most significant characteristics of
his music was its innovative approach to form. To his friend Hermann
Hirschbach, he recommended an examination of his larger works such
as the Sonata, where he would find "new forms" (7 September 1838).
In an 1839 review, he noted the emptiness of simply "repeating" old
structures, and advised devising "new ones" instead.23 In the finale to
the First Piano Sonata, Schumann put his theories to the test, and
20

Letter of 13 August 1844 in Hauptmann, Letters, II, p. 16.

Kathleen Dale, "The Piano Music," in Schumann: A Symposium, ed. Gerald Abraham
(Oxford, 1952), p. 46.
Mosco Garner, "The Orchestral Music," in Ibid,, p. 178.
"Sonaten fur Klavier" in GS I, p. 395.

The Piano Compositions, 183439 161

adopted a new structural approach that bewildered and frustrated critics

intent on perceiving it as a continuation of the classical style. The structure is bipartite. The first section (mm. 1189) includes three major
theme groups, with tonal centers of F sharp minor/A major, E flat
major, and A major. The second section (mm. 190-396) is a reflection
of the first, with the same thematic material, but with different tonal
centers (C major, C minor, E flat major, and F sharp major). A coda
in F sharp major (mm. 397462) concludes the work. Its structure is
distinctive but may disclose Schumann's adaptation of Bach, a transformation perhaps of the binary form often used by Bach in the preludes
of the Well-Tempered Clavier?4
The Fantasie op. 17
A similar approach was followed with the Fantasie op. 17, begun not
long after completion of the First Piano Sonata. It contains three movements, the second being a grandiose march (in lieu of a scherzo and
trio). Instead of the exuberant finale to the work that many would have
expected, the last movement is slow and lyrical, providing a conclusion
of serenity and radiance. But it is the opening movement that is perhaps
the most unusual. About two-thirds of the way into it, a new section
entersidentified by Schumann as "Im Legenden Ton"("In the Manner of a Legend"). Its lyrical nature is emphasized by his original title
for it: "Romanza."
The effect of Schumann's digression is to disrupt the flow of what
had been perceived as a sonata form, in the process disorienting the
listener. It can be perceived in a number of ways: as a development
section of sorts, as a digression, or as an interlude. The inspiration for
it Schumann probably found in literatureparticularly the novels of
Jean Paul, Brentano, and Eichendorff, which are composite in structure
with frequent digressions, presenting a mixture of prose and poetry.
Like op. n, the Fantasie was a work closely connected in Schumann's mind with Clara. He later described the first movement as "excessively melancholy" and wrote to Clara that it was his "most
This movement is an example of what has been described as Schumann's use of "parallel
form." See Linda Correll Roesner, "Schumann's 'Parallel' Forms," igth-Century Music XIV
(1990-91), pp. 265-78.

162 S C H U M A N N

passionatea deep lament for you" (25 January 1839 and 19 March
1838). This first movement was sketched in June 1836. It was intended
at that time to publish it as a single-movement work, entitled "Ruines.
Fantasie"a reflection of his despair at what he perceived as quite
possibly the end of his relationship with Clara.
That autumn, Schumann decided to enlarge the work, and also to
associate it with a memorial to Beethoven in Bonn. One hundred copies of the completed work were to be given to the Bonn committee,
and the proceeds from their sale were to help defray the cost of the
monument. By the beginning of December, all three movements were
done. As was often the case, Schumann considered a number of possible
titles, including "Dichtungen" ("Poetry"), as well as individual titles of
"Ruins, Triumphal Arch, Constellation," and "Ruins, Trophies,
Palms." The entire work was to be published as a "Grand Sonata" by
Florestan and Eusebius in a grandiose edition with a black cover and
prominent gold lettering. But no publisher expressed interest in the
project.
When retitled "Fantasie" and published in 1839, the work was dedicated to Lisztappropriately both because of the virtuoso nature of
much of the piece and because of the prominent role Liszt had taken
in raising funds for the Beethoven monument. Associations with Beethoven still remain, such as the persistent use of trills in the first and
second movements: a hallmark of Beethoven's late style. But, more
pointedly, in the first movement (and in an earlier version of the Fantasie, at the conclusion of the third movement as well) Schumann
quoted from the opening of the sixth song of Beethoven's song-cycle
An die feme Geliebte op. 98 (1816) (Ex. 8.5, 8.6). It was not a quotation
that he acknowledged in the score. Rather, it was intended as a private

Ex. 8.5
Andante con moto, cantabile

Nimm

ste bin

Accept, then, these.wngs

denn,

die - se Lie - der,

The Piano Compositions, 183439 '

163

Ex. 8.6

and secret statement, and as a reference to Clara, Schumann's own "Distant Beloved."
The association of the Fantasie with Clara was strong in Schumann's
mind. Its key, C major, was an unusual choice for Schumann, and
probably intended as a connection to Clara's name. The work is prefaced by a quotation from a poem by Friedrich Schlegel, "Abendrote"
("Sunset"), published in 1801 in his novel, Lutinde:
Durch all Tone tonet
Im bunten Erdentraum
Ein leiser Ton gezogen
Fur den, der heimlich lauschet.

("Through all the sounds in Earth's many-colored dream, sounds one

soft, long-drawn tone for whomever listens in secret.")
Clara was particularly taken with the second movement in which
she heard "an entire orchestra" (23 May 1839). But Schumann directed
her elsewhere. Quoting the first phrase of the initial theme from the
first movement, he asked: "Does it also suggest many ideas to you? The
'tone' in the motto is you? I nearly believe it" (9 June 1839). Clara
replied a week later, now noting that this passage also was her favorite
in the movement. Perhaps her change was in recognition of the resemblance between this theme and that of the "Notturno" in her Soirees
musicales op. 6, a work of which Schumann confessed he was particularly
fond (Ex.8.7, 8.8).

Ex. 8.7
Andante con moto

Ex. 8.8
Durchaus fantastisch und leidenschaftlich vorzutragen (J = 80)
Sempre fantasticamente ed appassionatamente

The Piano Compositions, 183439 ' ^65

The Compositions from 1837 and 1838: Davidsbundlertanze op. 6;

Fantasiestiicke op. 12; Novelletten op. 21; Kinderszenen op. 15;
Kreisleriana op. 16
After completing work on the Fantasie, Schumann returned to works
of shorter length, similar both in structure and mood to the Intermezzi.
In 1837, the Fantasiestiicke op. 12 and the Davidsbundlertanze op. 6 were
composed. Once again, in Schumann's mind both were tied to Clara.
The Davidsbundlertanze, he wrote to her, were filled with "thoughts of
marriage" and resembled a "Polterabend" (a wedding-eve party) (5 January and 6 February 1838). Their connection to Clara was emphasized
by the quotation (indicated in the score as "Motto by C. W.") of a
motive from a mazurka in Clara's Soirees musicales op. 6a way of
binding both their opus sixes. The brooding melancholy of the Fantasie
is absent, perhaps a reflection of the optimism Schumann felt at the
renewal of his relationship with Clara. To a friend he emphasized their
whimsical nature, describing them as "dances of death, St. Vitus's
dances, graceful dances, and goblins' dances" (20 October 1837).
As with op. n, the Davidsbundlertanze appeared as the work of Florestan and Eusebius (and, consequently, was reviewed by Sobolewski
in the 13 July 1838 issue of the Zeitschrifi). The title page, too, was
distinctive, heavily ornamented in the pseudo-Gothic style popular at
the time (see illustration no. 8). All was intended to create an aura of
mystery about the work. There are eighteen pieces in the set, many
in the first half being simple, unpretentious dances. From No. 10 on,
however, they become longer and more complex in structure. The
work concludes in a mood of poignant simplicity with a Schubertian
waltz. There are no titles, but each dance is attributed to either Florestan, Eusebius, or both (and signed "F" and/or "E"). Immediately
preceding the ninth and eighteenth pieces, text is introduced (emphasizing the emotional reactions of Florestan and Eusebius, respectively)an unexpected, extramusical element that Schumann deleted
(along with the signatives "F" and "E") when the set was reissued in
1850 under his own name.
Schumann composed the last of the Davidsbundlertanze in August. As
was often the case, at the same time he was working on several compositions: the previous month he had started the Fantasiestiicke. There
are eight pieces in the set, most in ternary form and linked by tonality

l66 S C H U M A N N

(D flat major, F major/minor, C major). Each has a title reflective of

the fantastical and visionary implications of the general title for the set,
a title that Schumann probably borrowed from E. T. A. Hoffmann. But
there are programmatic elements in the work beyond the tides supplied
for the pieces. For the fifth piece in the set, "In der Nacht," Schumann
discovered after its completion that it contained in detail the story of
Hero and Leander; he wrote to Clara sharing his excitement with her
and asked if she too detected its presence. For the last piece, "Ende
vom Lied," Schumann informed Clara of the thoughts of marriage that
had animated him while composing it, although in this instance he
remarked that in the end his hopes had been overshadowed by his pain.
It is one of the most distinctive in the set, and may have had a more
specific meaning that Schumann was hesitant to reveal in writing. Clara
wrote to Schumann that portions of it reminded her of the music of
Johann Rudolf Zumsteeg, a song composer popular at the turn of the
century. Schumann praised her for her discernment. Perhaps a quotation
from Zumsteeg is present in the work, providing yet another link to
Schumann's extramusical intentions.
In January 1838, Schumann put the Fantasiestucke in order, readying
them for publication. At the same time, he began work on another set
of piano pieces, published as the Novelletten op. 21. The title, of his
own creation for a musical work, has a literary connotation: "Novellen"
are short stories. To Fischhof he described them as "grand, interconnected, adventurous tales" (3 April 1838). He took the opportunity to
tease Clara by explaining the unusual title as a reference to the popular
soprano Clara Novello, claiming that the unpleasant sounding "Wiecketten" simply did not work. Once again Schumann stated that this most
recent musical work was merely a reflection of his life. The pieces
included, he told her, "amusing tales, Egmont tales, family scenes with
fathers, a marriage . . . my bridein the Novelletten you appear in all
possible situations and settings" (6 February 1838; 30 June 1839).
The Novelletten are Schumann's largest piano work. He worked on
them intermittently during the spring and summer, putting them in
order in August. There are eight pieces (all untitled) in the set, each
averaging six to seven pages in length. Many are dances: the fourth is
a waltz, the fifth is polonaise like, the first trio of the eighth is a mixture
of mazurka and galop. But the improvisatory elements of Schumann's

The Piano Compositions, 1834-39 '

167

musicstill noticeable, for example, in the Davidsbundlertdnzeis less

in evidence here. Much of the music bears witness to 'what at the time
must have been perceived as Schumann's unrepentant eccentricity. For
example, the melody of the fifth is comprised of three separate motives,
each of a distinctive, contrasting character, unified with total disregard
for the barline (Ex. 8.9). The last piece is distinguished from the others
both by its size (it is the longest in the set) and by the inclusion in it
of what Schumann termed a "Stimme aus der Feme" ("A Voice from
the Distance"). On the surface, there would appear to be no particular
reason for him to have drawn attention to the melody in the right hand
in so striking a manner. But it was intended as a means of binding his
compositions to Clara's: the "voice" appears to be derived from the
"Notturno" in Clara's Soirees musicales (the same melody associated with
the first movement of the Fantasie; see Ex. 8.7). Clara was delighted
with Schumann's inclusion of the "Stimme" in the Novelletten. She
wrote to him noting the presence of Eusebius in it and, in a rare show
of humor, signed her letter "Eusebiana" (i September 1838).
As had been the case with the Fantasiestucke, there are programmatic
associations with several of the Novelletten, which were not indicated in
the first edition. The second piece of the set was originally entitled
"Sarrasin and Suleika" (a reference to Goethe's Westostlichen Divan) and
sent to Liszt for his perusal. And, prior to the publication of the Novelletten in 1839, the intermezzo from the third Novellette appeared separately as part of a musical supplement to the Zeitschrift (May 1838). As

Ex. 8.9
Rauschendundfestlicit (J = ue)
Con slancio festosamente

l68 S C H U M A N N

his diary confirms, it was associated in Schumann's mind with Macbeth,

and when published in the Zeitschrift supplement was preceded by a
quotation of the opening couplet from it.
Closely connected with the Novelletten were the Kinderszenen
("Scenes From Childhood") op. 15. It was Schumann's original intention to publish the two together (at this stage the Kinderszenen were
referred to as Kindergeschichten, "Children's Tales," so a literary element bound them to the Novelletten). Schumann reported to Clara
that the idea for the Kinderszenen originated in her remark that at
times he seemed "like a child," resulting in February in "thirty small,
droll things" (19 March 1838). Schumann loved children. He was
charmed by the freshness, grace, and innocence of childhood, and
eager to transmit those traits to his music. He selected thirteen of the
pieces, and gave each a separate title, such as "Catch Me," and "By
the Fireside." To an associate he described them as being "more
cheerful, gentler, more melodic" than his previous compositions (28
September 1840).
The Kinderszenen are simple, unpretentious pieces. But they were
not intended for children. Schumann's purpose was to create a loving
and insightful representation of childhood for adults. Most are less than
a page in length, and in content and structure are a world apart from
the Novelletten. It is surprising that he originally coupled them with the
Novelletten. But perhaps he perceived the Kinderszenen as creating a distinct impression for the more visionary Novelletten, at the same time
taking pleasure in the startling contrast between the two sets. Clara was
delighted with the Kinderszenen and wrote telling him that they "belonged only to us" (21 March 1839). Because of their personal nature,
a dedicatee was conspicuously omitted.
To Clara, Schumann described the Kinderszenen as "gentle and loving
and happylike our future" (3 August 1838)and presented them as
distinctly opposite in mood to the composition that next occupied his
attention: Kreisleriana. He began work on Kreisleriana in early May, completing it in mid-September, several weeks after putting the Novelletten
in order. It is one of his most fanciful and eccentric compositions. Subtitled "Fantasies," it consists of eight pieces (linked tonally by the keys
of D minor, G minor, and B flat major). The title was taken from
E. T. A. Hoffmann: Johannes Kreisler was Hoffmann's most memorable

The Piano Compositions, 183439 '

169

creation, and Schumann succinctly described him as an "eccentric, wild,

gifted Kapellmeister" (15 March 1839).
Seven years earlier, Schumann had recorded in his diary the "new
worlds" opened up to him by his reading of Hoffmann. He now reacted
similarly, noting the "completely new worlds" produced by his latest
composition.25 Despite his assertion that the music preceded the title,
it seems allied to the paradoxical temperament of Kreisler, whether as
an attempt at musical representation of Kreisler's character, or a transformation of Kreisler as performing artist. Schumann yet again informed
Clara of the close association of the piece to her, and wanted to dedicate
it to her, but Wieck refused to grant permission to do so.
In 1839, Schumann confessed that, of his works from op. 15 to op.
20, Kreisleriana was his favorite. Yet, when preparing the piece for a
second edition in 1849, he explained to his publisher that in the past
he had "unfortunately often ruined" his compositions, "and quite wantonly" (20 November 1849). This statement has been perceived as an
acknowledgment and criticism of the eccentricities in his compositions,
traits that hindered their comprehension and limited their sales. But too
much weight should not be given to Schumann's words. His remarks
were intended more to quiet his publisher's apprehensions. For the new
edition Schumann actually changed little. Today the eccentricity and
the resulting unpredictability of Kreisleriana seems one of its greatest
strengths. Much of it appears passionate, frenzied, neuroticall traits
characteristic of Kreisler himself.
The Compositions of 1839: Arabesque op. 18; Blumenstiick op. 19;
Scherzo, Gigue, Romanze und Fughette op. 32; Piano Concerto in
D minor; Drei Romanzen op. 28; Humoreske op. 20; Nachtstticke
op. 23
Because of the demands made on his time (and his increasing frustration
in dealing with the censor), while in Vienna Schumann was unable to
continue the hurried pace of composition he had maintained for much
of 1838. After his return to Leipzig, despite the death of his brother
and preoccupation over court proceedings to gain permission to marry
Clara, he worked diligently. The Faschingsschwank aus Wien op. 26
Entry of 3 May 1838 in Tgb II, p. 55.

170 S C H U M A N N

(started in Vienna) was perhaps the most ambitious composition completed. At the opposite end of the spectrum were the Arabesque op. 18
and the Blumenstuck op. 19. Both compositions, he wrote to Becker,
were "feeble and intended for ladies"a reference to the popular
market (15 August 1839). The Arabesque he curiously described to
Clara as "variations, but on no theme" (25 January 1839)an intriguing
concept, but the Arabesque is a rondo with a clearly identifiable theme.
It is possible that the reference to "no theme" was intended not as an
allusion to the musical structure, but to the quality of the thematic
material, for it is slight and no doubt in Schumann's eyes was fairly
inconsequential. Both the Arabesque and Blumenstuck are precisely
the kind of composition (including the conventional and sentimental
titles) that Schumann would never have composed if he had not been
concerned about his income. Yet another indication is that they were
sold separately, although both are short enougheach is only about
a half dozen pages in lengththat they could easily have been sold as
a set.
During the final weeks of his stay in Vienna, Schumann worked on
a surprising number of compositions. In addition to the Arabesque and
Blumenstuck, he completed a scherzo, gigue, and romance, to which he
later added a fughetta, publishing the set in 1841 as op. 32. And he
began work on the previously mentioned "sonata or fantasie or etude
or nothing in C minor" (now lost)an indication of his growing frustration. Considerable effort was spent as well on a piano concerto, a
genre that he had previously attempted without success. Twenty-six
pages of incomplete orchestral score and an additional four pages of the
piano part (also incomplete) exist for a Piano Concerto in D minor,
dated 20 March 1839. Schumann began work on it in January, describing it to Clara as "something between a symphony, a concerto, and a
large sonata. I see that I can not write a concerto for virtuosos" (24
January 1839). Yet such a concerto would have done a great deal to
bring his name before a broader public.
It is clear from his correspondence with Clara that he felt discouraged
by his work on the concerto, and there is no indication that he ever
made an attempt to finish it. He was more successful with three compositions (two on a fairly large scale) completed later in the year: Drei
Romanzen op. 28, the Humoreske op. 20, and the Nachtstiicke op. 23.

The Piano Compositions, 183439 ' J?1

Chronologically, the Romanzen are the last of the series; with the exception of the Four Fugues op. 72 (1845), Schumann was not to compose another extensive work for solo piano for nearly a decade. These
are easily accessible pieces, extremely tunefulperhaps one reason for
his choice of title. But their texture is unusually dense, and their lyricism
is not necessarily vocal in nature, as the title might imply. It would not
be unexpected if there was an association between them and Clara's
Romances op. n (composed in 1839 and dedicated to Schumann).
The Humoreske was composed in early March 1839, while Schumann
was living in Vienna. He characterized it as perhaps his "most melancholy" composition (7 August 1839). To Clara he wrote that while
creating it he was both "laughing and crying" (II March 1839)an
indication of the startling and abrupt contrasts within it (and an instance
of "humor" in the style of Jean Paul). The Humoreske can be seen as
containing five pieces (not marked as such in the score), following one
another without pause. The second introduces an additional melodic
line, indicated by Schumann as an "innere Stimme" ("inner voice"). It
is not intended to be played. In function, it recalls the "Voice From the
Distance" in the Novelletten.2
The Nachtstucke were also composed during the final weeks of Schumann's stay in Vienna. The title was probably appropriated by Schumann from Hoffmann's Nachtstucke, a collection of short stories. But
there were a number of other literary works that could have served as
his source, including tales by Tieck, Arnim, Contessa, and Bonaventura.
In the literary "Nightpiece," elements that were emphasized included
the supernatural, the grotesque, and, in particular, the ominous "dark
side" of nature. In that sense, the "Nachtstiick" was clearly differentiated from another musical nightpiece, the "nocturne" (especially as
popularized by Chopin). Both referred to the night, but the nocturne
depicted the night as it might be perceived by loversgentle, delicate,
and soothing, definitely not the nightmarish visions of the
"Nachtstuck."
By selecting "Nachtstucke" as a title, Schumann was deliberately
26

It may in a similar manner be related to Clara's music. H. J. Kohler, in the Peters edition
of the Humoreske (Leipzig, 1981), associates the "innere Stimme" with Clara's "Romance"
op. II no. 2, but does not present a convincing case (pp. 40-43).

172 S C H U M A N N

setting his music apart from the numerous nocturnes and notturnos of
the day. While composing the piece, he confessed to Clara that he saw
"funeral processions, coffins, unfortunate, despairing people" (7 April
1839)this before he had decided on a title for the work. When he
later learned of the death of his brother Eduard, Schumann interpreted
the music as a premonition of it.27 The Nachtstucke contain four
piecesas published, all untitled. But at first Schumann planned titles
for each: "Funeral Procession," "Odd Company," "Nocturnal Revels,"
"Round with Solo Voices." The title for the set was one that he selected
with care, after rejecting his original choice: "Leichenphantasie" ("Funeral Fantasy").
The Nachtstucke were composed during a time when financial concerns were of particular significance to Schumann. More than ever he
was determined to establish his reputation as a composer in order to
prove Wieck mistaken in his assertions. It remained essential for him
to gain a hearing for his works, if not by means of favorable reviews
(which were rare), then through performances. Liszt, who, both privately and in print, had come out strongly in support of Schumann's
compositions, occasionally performed works by Schumanna most unusual gesture for the time. In Vienna, he performed the Fantasiestucke,
and in Leipzig, in March 1840, excerpts from Camaval. In 1838, another
virtuoso, Anna Robena Laidlaw (an English pianist with whom Schumann had carried on a brief flirtation), performed in Berlin several of
Schumann's compositions, including the second and third movements
of op. 14 and one of his Paganini Etudes. While in Paris, Clara was
pleased to report to Schumann that Charles Halle had performed Carnaval (apparently for a select audience). But these isolated performances,
while welcome, were an inadequate means of bringing Schumann's music before the public.
The primary interpreter of Schumann's music remained Clara. She
performed his compositions regularly, both publicly and privately
even playing his music for individuals or small groups. But her public
performances were often hampered by the difficulty in finding works
Schumann's superstitious nature was evident while returning home from Vienna. During
the trip he heard trombones playing a choraleat the precise time, he later believed, that
his brother had died.

The Piano Compositions, 183439 ' 173

suitable for a typical audience. Invariably she consulted with Schumann
on the matter, who had strong, but changing, opinions. The compositions that he considered possibilities included the Toccata, several of
the Fantasiestucke (including "In der Nacht" and "Traumeswirren"), the
last of the Kreisleriana (with the ending changed to include a crescendo
and a series of chords), the second movement of the Second Piano
Sonata, and the second and seventh of the Novelletten. Carnaval, because
of the rapid change of mood, he did not consider appropriate (although
Clara did perform it while in Vienna for a group of about twenty
people).
Schumann told Clara that in selections such as these it was his general
intention to present to the public compositions that he believed were
capable of creating the "greatest effect" that is, works of technical display
and some brilliance (13 October 1839). Yet, it was obvious that not
only did few of his compositions meet those criteria, those that did
tended to be disconcerting to audiences. Schumann's predicament was
a serious one but, because of his quest for originality, of his own making.
As he prepared for marriage to Clara, he was obliged to acknowledge
that, despite his efforts, his compositions were little appreciated, and
that his fame, while growing, remained insubstantial.

C H A P T E R

Married Life in Leipzig

A lady meeting a girl who had lately left her service, inquired,
"Well, Mary! where do you live now?""Please, ma'am," answered the girl, "I don't live nowI'm married."
Leigh Hunt, Table-Talk

*HE MARRIAGE

OF ROBERT AND

CLARA SCHUMANN HAS

traditionally been portrayed as a perfect union: five years of

trial and hardship, the brunt of insult and castigation, rewarded by a
truly remarkable partnership founded in love, sympathy, and understanding for one another. The nineteenth century was fond of
happy endings, and seemed to believe that, after all the tribulations
they had endured, the Schumanns deserved nothing less. "Truly, our
life will be one of poetry and flowers," Schumann had written to
Clara during their engagement, "Like angels, we will play and create
poems together and bring joy to mankind" (13 April 1838). But
their diaries reveal that married life brought unexpected discord and
conflict.
They began keeping a joint diary immediately after their marriage.
To do so was in keeping not just with their personalities, but compatible
with the desires of an era that reveled in the maintenance of diaries,
journals, and private chronicles. Their intention was to alternate the

174

Married Life in Leipzig 175

entries, each taking a week in turn, the contents to be shared and

discussed at the week's end. The diary was to provide a means not just
of recording events in their livesvisitors, concerts attended, work accomplishedbut their reaction to these events, and, most important of
all, their thoughts about one another. It was hoped that, by presenting
openly any differences between them, the diary would bring them
closer together. But as composition occupied more of his effort, Schumann in time lost interest in it (his last regular entry is in November
1843). He turned instead to a series of household books, originally
intended as financial records, but to which he also added brief comments on his health, daily events, and compositions. The diary eventually was kept by Clara alone.
The manner in which each contributed to the diary is in itself revealing. Clara tended to be wordy, usually writing two to three times
as much as her husband. She was inclined to write about more mundane
matters, was often chatty, and prone to gossip. Like her father, she was
quick to criticize, too much sofaults of some sort seem to be discovered in virtually everyone mentioned by her. Schumann too could
be critical, but sparingly. And his focus was more on their relationship
and his work.
His quiet, more introspective nature is readily apparent, an aspect of
his personality that impressed friends and companions. Franz Brendel,
a good friend who eventually purchased the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik
from Schumann, recalled a typical walk taken with Schumann. He had
discovered some wine, Markebrunner, at an inn and invited Brendel to
share it with him:
In stifling heat we made the trip together through Rosenthal Park without
speaking a word. On arriving, the Markebrunner was his main concern.
He spoke not a single word, and it was the same on the way back, when
we were both silent. He made only one comment, but it provided me with
a glimpse into his inner nature. He spoke of the special beauty of such a
summer afternoon, when all voices were silent, when nature itself was completely peaceful and quiet. He was deeply moved, and noted that the ancient
Greeks had a particularly appropriate description for it: "Pan is sleeping."
The two of us made similar trips together, each time completely silent. At

I76

SCHUMANN

such moments Schumann only took notice of the world around him when
it happened to correspond to his reveries. He sought the presence of others
only as relief from solitude.

In time, this reluctance, or perhaps disdain, for speech became paramount. Ferdinand Hiller told of a visit made in 1845 to Schumann
with the French composer Felicien David. The prolonged silence became embarrassing. "After a while," related Hiller, "I was beginning to
feel hot and uncomfortable, when Schumann turned and murmured to
me: 'David doesn't seem to talk much.' 'No, not much,' I replied. 'I
like that,' said Schumann with a gentle smile." To Louis Ehlert, it
seemed on those occasions when Schumann spoke "as though he were
first compelled to come to terms with an inner vision; everything about
him appeared to beam in a radiance from another world. His glance,
his speech and motions seemed veiled."3
At times, it must have been difficult for Clara to deal with this exceptionally quiet and introverted man, so different from herself. But for
Schumann, the blessings of their marriage were many. Clara's companionship became the foundation of his life; it provided stability and an
environment in which his work could flourish. That is precisely what
had been lacking during the 18305, and had contributed greatly to his
loneliness, depression, and occasional fits of despair. "Nothing is missing
to make me content," Schumann wrote to Clara prior to their marriage,
"except you and what you will bring: domestic order, peace, and security" (8 June 1839).
Married life brought into focus another side of Schumann. While
reading his entries in the diary, one finds oneself in the presence of, to
put it simply, a rare human spirit: gentle, sensitive, honest, forthright,
noble in the finest sense of the word. All of these were traits that had
long been part of him, but dominated more by his moodiness and
egotism. The marriage provided the opportunity to share ideas with
Clara and to grow and develop together. Schumann assumed the role
Franz Brendel, "R. Schumann's Biographic von J. W v. Wasielewski," Neue Zeitschrift fur
Musik XLVIII (1858), p. 159.
Gustav Jansen, Die Davidsbundler (Leipzig, 1883), p. 50. Translation from Ronald Taylor,
Robert Schumann: His Life and Work (New York, 1982), p. 94.
Louis Ehlert, From the Tone World (New York, 1885), pp. 220-21.

Married Life in Leipzig 17?

of teacher and mentor. They studied music together (especially the WellTempered Clavier), and read Shakespeare and Jean Paul.
What meant most to Schumann in marriage was raising a family. He
loved children, and once expressed the opinion it was not possible to
have too many. During the nearly fourteen years they spent together,
he and Clara had eight children, two girls being born while they lived
in Leipzig, Marie (born i September 1841) and Elise (born 25 April
1843). The children always seemed to delight Schumann, and he took
great pleasure in observing their thoughts, growth, and development.
"My two little girls are lovely, little angels," he chided Johann Verhulst,
"my dear wife is wonderful. And you want to remain a bachelor?" (5
June 1844).
The conflict that was present in their marriage was a result of their
ambition. At the time of their marriage, Clara's reputation as a musician
far exceeded that of her husband. She had no intention of abandoning
her career. Schumann, however, felt differently. During their engagement Clara had expressed her fear that she would be forgotten if she
did not continue her career after marriage. Schumann had responded:
"The first year of our marriage you shall forget the artist, and shall live
only for yourself and your home and your husband, and only wait and
see how I will make you forget the artist. A wife stands even higher
than an artist. If I only achieve one thingthat you have nothing more
to do with the publicthen my deepest wish will have been achieved.
Yet you will always remain the artist that you are" (13 June 1839).
Performing was Clara's life, and rather than retire from the stage after
marriage, she wished to increase her reputation. In order to marry
Schumann, she had been obliged to fight her father, in the process being
torn by her love and devotion for him. With marriage, Clara had
moved from one crisis to another, in both instances forced to confront
men whom she hoped to please. It was the acknowledgement by Clara
of Schumann's genius as a composer that served to dwarf her musical
gifts. She felt it was her duty to serve and assist him. The role she
gradually came to assume was one of subservience to her husband's
geniusa martyrdom of sorts that earned her the encomium of the
nineteenth century. Her own career would be sacrificed at the altar of
Art.
To adopt such a role did not come easily to Clara. Nor was she able

178 S C H U M A N N

to find fulfillment as a mother. Her career meant too much to her, and
from time to time the role of administering angel was dropped for that
of performing artist. In the diary, Clara lamented that she was not permitted to practice when Schumann composed; it disturbed his concentration. Within a month of their marriage, Clara brought up the idea
of a tour to Belgium and Holland, in its way the continuation of the
plans she had had in 1839 while in Paris. Schumann was opposed.
"Farewell, life of a virtuoso!" she wrote in the diary, and noted that it
was "frightful" not to make use of her ability at a time when she felt
at the height of her powers.4 "Should I stay here for the entire winter,
earning nothing, when I can easily earn more?"5
Clara did not return to the concert hall as a soloist until a Gewandhaus concert on 31 March 1841. Married life must have been a sobering
experience for her. Little time for practice, motherhood, managing a
home (there were servants, including wet-nurses for the babies)all
quite different from her life prior to marriage, and both more demanding and more monotonous in its routine than she had imagined it would
be. Had there been sufficient income, Schumann probably would have
been content for her to make a limited number of local appearances.
"On the whole, I am content in my Inselstrasse [their place of residence]," he wrote in the diary in June 1842, "so that I have absolutely
no desire to go elsewhere. But Clara wants very much to travel." With
a growing family and a limited income from the Zeitschrift and his compositions, it soon became clear that more money was needed. "We
spend more than we earn," Schumann noted.7
Between 1840 and 1854, Clara gave nearly 150 concerts. This was
far fewer than she desired, and most were local, occurring in the cities
where the Schumanns were then living (Leipzig, Dresden, or Dusseldorf) or nearby. There were few tours, and those that were undertaken
regularly met with Schumann's opposition. During their residence in
Leipzig, a number were contemplated: St. Petersburg in 1840, Paris in
4
6

7 October 1840 in Tgb II, p. no,

6 November 1840 in Ibid., p. 121.
End of June 1842 in Ibid., p. 230.
17 February 1843 in Ibid., p. 254.

Married Life in Leipzig 179

1841, Holland and England in 1844 (Clara even began studying English). In February and March 1842, a trip to the United States was
considered. The idea of traveling to America was grandiose, but not as
far-fetched as it might seem. America was perceived as a land of plenty.
Despite the rigors of the trip and the amount of time required for it,
piano virtuosos such as Thalberg were to make the journey and find it
extremely profitable.
During the first three-and-a-half years of their marriage there was
but one concert tour: to northern Germany in February 1842. Despite
several advantages to the trip for Schumannincluding a performance
of his First Symphony op. 38he was clearly uncomfortable. In Oldenburg, only Clara was invited to perform at the court. She returned
delighted by her success, but Schumann was angered at being snubbed.
Her concerts were well received, and Clara wanted to continue the
tour in Denmark, but Schumann wanted to return home.
There was some debate about their course of action. In a letter to
Emilie List, Clara gave her reasons for continuing the trip without her
husband: "I am a woman, I will not be neglecting anything at home,
I earn nothing therewhy should I not by means of my talent con8
tribute my bit for Robert?" It was a stance that Clara was frequently
to adopt. There was never a question of her needing to perform because
she wanted to, nor were her concerts presented as a means of furthering
her career. It was simply a means of earning more money, of doing her
"bit for Robert." At some point, she must have realized that her career
was essential to her and that providing more income, while surely helpful, was merely a convenient justification for it.
On 10 March they parted; Clara traveled to Denmark and met a
challenging itinerary and continued acclaimincluding performing at
the Danish court. She returned to Leipzig seven weeks later. Schumann
went home and soon found himself lonely and disconsolate. "A miserable life," he wrote in the household books, "practiced counterpoint
and fugue."9 "Should I neglect my talent in order to serve as your
Letter of 30 May 1842 in Clara Schumann, "Das Band der ewigen Liebe": Briejwechsel mit
Emilie und Elise List, ed. Eugen Wendler (Stuttgart, 1996), p. III.
9
Entry of 20 March 1842 in HSHLT, p. 209.

l80 S C H U M A N N

travel-companion?" he wrote to Clara in the diary. "Should you waste

your talent because I need to work on the journal and compose?" It
was a dilemma that was never satisfactorily resolved.
They had been married nine months when Clara wrote in the diary
that the old adage, "Marriage kills the creative spirit," had not proven
true in this instance." The idea of an artist settling into a comfortable
middle-class existence, and losing the desire and ability to create was a
belief common at the time. If it was a fear also held by Schumann, it
must have been overridden by his love for Clara and by the wellremembered advice given to him by the physician he had consulted
during the crisis of October 1833: to find a wife. In the six months
preceding his marriage, Schumann had been composing prolifically.
Surprisingly, he had turned away from music for solo piano, and, after
more than a decade of neglect, was writing songs. With marriage, writing music remained of paramount importance to him.
Less than a month after their marriage, he began work on a symphony in C minor, a work that remained incomplete. In the autumn,
more songs were composed. Then, in January 1841, he completed the
sketches for a symphony in B flat major (published as op. 38). It was
orchestrated during the winter, and premiered on 31 March in Leipzig
by Mendelssohn. Two months later Schumann completed another orchestral work, the Overture, Scherzo, and Finale op. 52, and began work
on what eventually was to become the Piano Concerto op. 54. His
feverish activity continued during the remainder of the year. Another
symphony (later revised and published as his fourth, op. 120) was created, in addition to sketches for additional symphonic movements in C
minor, and plans for opera. At the same time, he completed in all
essentials the text for an oratorio, Paradise and the Peri (Das Paradies und
die Pert); he would compose the music for it in 1843.
The brisk pace was maintained during 1842. The year began with
three string quartets, completed during the summer and published as
op. 41 (with a dedication to Mendelssohn). In addition to three other
major chamber works completed during the year (the Piano Quintet
op. 44, the Piano Quartet op. 47, and the Fantasiestucke for piano trio
IO

14 March 1842 in Tgb II, p. 206.

I June 1841 in Ibid., p. 167.

Married Life in Leipzig 181

op. 88), Schumann expended much effortwith considerable success
in interesting conductors in his First Symphony.
1843 was devoted to the completion of Paradise and the Peri, a work
on a more impressive scale than any he had previously attempted, and
one that, at the time of its completion, he regarded as his greatest accomplishment. That he was able during three years to compose so much
music and at the same time maintain his duties as editor of the Zeitschrift
testifies to his indefatigable industry. All of this was accomplished with
little relief from work, and with little time away from home. A vacation
trip from 6 to 22 August 1842 to Bohemia provided the major distraction, and both he and Clara delighted in it.
It has often been noted that Schumann tended to concentrate his
efforts in one genre at a time. Music for solo piano was the focus of
his attention from 1834 until 1839. Then, in the six months preceding
his marriage, he abruptly turned to song, producing more than 120 in
less than a year. In 1841 he composed three major orchestral works.
The next year witnessed a move to chamber music. The explanation
routinely offered for Schumann's approachthat he was systematically
directed by his muse to explore specific genresis naive. In reality,
there were very practical reasons for his systematic approach: the desire
to achieve a measure of popularity, earn money, and gain recognition
as a composer.
Those were goals that Schumann himself acknowledged. "With a
wife and children," he wrote to Carl Kossmaly, "it is a different matter.
One must think of the future, to see the fruits of one's laborsnot the
artistic, but the prosaic" (5 May 1843). In 1838 he had made a halfhearted attempt to court popularity with the Arabesque op. 18 and the
Blumenstuck op. 19. Both -works were less abstruse and more popular in
style, but Schumann was disdainful of the results.
Also very much in demand were songs; they were a standard form
of home entertainment, and the publishers' catalogues of the day bear
witness to their popularity. In turning to song in 1840, Schumann was
attempting to become part of that growing market. As the household
books reveal, he was well paid for his efforts. In October 1840 for the
Drei Romanzen op. 28, he had received 23 talers from Breitkopf &
Hartel. He received more than twice that amount (54 talers) in April
1841 from Klemm for the Lieder op. 35, and 50 talers in December

182 S C H U M A N N

1840 for a charming but inconsequential vocal work, the Four Duets
op. 34. Financial considerations were foremost in Schumann's mind at
the time. Here was a way in which his income could be dramatically
increased, and at the same time provide an answer to Wieck's criticism
of his earning capability.
In writing symphonies and chamber music, Schumann was attempting to gain popularity in a different manner. Success in those more
challenging genres would lead to higher esteem and greater recognition
by colleagues and connoisseurs. An established name and reputation
similar, for example, to that held by Mendelssohnwould lead not only
to more performances of his music, but improve his association with
publishers and hopefully increase sales of his work. Although more time
was spent in the creation of these substantial works, he also earned more
from their publication: 120 talers each for the First Symphony op. 38
and the String Quartets op. 41. As his fame and reputation increased,
so did the amount he received. In 1851 he was paid 200 talers for the
Third Symphony op. 97. To view this as an indication that as a composer Schumann was solely dominated by business concerns would do
justice neither to his dedication to music nor to his determination not
to compromise his convictions. But it is time to step away from fanciful
idealism and to recognize that Schumann needed to earn money in
order to live. There often were practical reasons for his ventures.
The early 1840s was a time of growing friendships with colleagues,
a result now not just of his association with the Zeitschrift, but of his
increasing reputation as a composer. In October 1843, the Danish composer Niels Gade arrived in Leipzig for a six-month stay. Seven years
younger than Schumann and at the start of a promising career, he found
in Schumann both a mentor and a friend. Schumann did much to
promote Gade's music in the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, and, as might
be expected, reveled in the musicality (G-A-D-E) of his new friend's
name. Over the years they remained close. "I have seldom met anyone," Schumann wrote in the diary in 1846, "with whom I am in such
harmony as with Gade."
Schumann also met Hector Berlioz. Berlioz arrived in Leipzig in late
January 1843 as part of a concert tour intended to promote his music.
April 1846 in Ibid., p. 401.

Married Life in Leipzig 183

Schumann had been among the first to support Berlioz. Eight years
earlier he had published a lengthy review in the Zeitschriftextended
over three issuesof Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique. It showed keen
discernment and appreciation of Berlioz's musical intentions, all the
more notable because for the review Schumann had not had access to
the orchestral score of the Symphonie, but had relied on Liszt's piano
transcription. Berlioz wrote to Schumann in December 1836, thanking
him for his kind words, and expressed a desire to know both him and
his compositions.
Berlioz's visit to Leipzig provided an extended opportunity for the
two if not to speak to one another at lengthneither had proficiency
in the other's languagethen at least to experience one another's compositions. Schumann was able to hear a number of Berlioz's works,
including the Overture to King Lear, and the offertory from the Requiem. To honor him, Schumann provided a reception, at which several
of his own compositions (including the Piano Quintet and two of the
string quartets) were performed. Although their relationship never became close, Berlioz and Schumann appear to have gotten along well
together. Their temperaments were markedly different. Berlioz was excitable, talkative, and flamboyantall traits that Schumann appears to
have forgiven. But they shared a great love of literature, particularly for
Shakespeare, Goethe, and Byron. After Berlioz's departure, Schumann
wrote to Breitkopf & Hartel in an attempt to interest them in Berlioz's
compositions and in his treatise on orchestration.13
Unfortunately, Clara did not share her husband's opinion of Berlioz,
at least in part because of her dislike of Berlioz's conduct toward her
in Paris in 1839. "He is cold, dispassionate, sullen," she wrote in the
diary.14 Schumann also had some reservations about Berlioz, but these
were reservations that he seemed to retain for the French in general,
and that included composersregardless of nationalityexposed to the
perils of residing in Paris. "Paris has clearly corrupted him," Schumann
concluded, "also the dissolute life of young people there."15
Hartel published the treatise. Contrary to what is reported in biographies of Berlioz and
Schumann, this was not their only meeting. They met again in Berlin in February 1847,
during Berlioz's trip to Russia.
14
Entry of 27 February 1843 in Tgb II, p. 258.
17 February 1843 in Ibid., p. 256.

184 S C H U M A N N

Even Chopin was not exempt from this criticism. In time Schumann
became critical of what he perceived as the repetitive nature of Chopin's
oeuvre: "Always new and inventive in appearancewith the construction of his compositions, in certain pianistic effects, he remains the
sameso that we fear he will go no higher than he has thus far."16 Just
as Schumann felt he himself had "progressed" by moving from compositions for solo piano to chamber works and symphonies, he felt
failure to do so by others indicated apathy, lassitude, or a lack of ambition. For certain composers, Schumann seemed to feel that this lassitude stemmed from the Parisian way of life. He saw it as indulgent
and decadent, mirrored not just in the music, but in the arts in general
which he often found to be superficial, shallow, eager to astonish, shock,
and please. He occasionally read the most famous novels of the leading
French romanticists, such as Victor Hugo and George Sand, and his
reaction was invariably one of displeasure and disgust.
Life after marriage included not only new friendships with composers
such as Berlioz and Gade, but renewed association with old friends.
Schumann's friendship with Mendelssohn remained constant. They frequently spent time together, not just discussing musical matters, but on
purely social occasions as well, including playing billiards. Mendelssohn
served as godfather to Schumann's first child, a clear mark of the esteem
in which they held one another. On a professional level, Mendelssohn
remained, in Schumann's eyes, a musician without peer. But, despite
Schumann's admiration, Mendelssohn was unable to feel comfortable
with some of Schumann's music. As their mutual friend Joseph Joachim
recalled, Mendelssohn privately "often found faults" in it17 The oddities
probably disturbed him, and he may have attributed them to what he
perceived as Schumann's dilettantish background.
But whatever reservations he may have had, he continued to work
on Schumann's behalf. In April 1843, as a result of Mendelssohn's strenuous efforts, a music conservatory was opened in Leipzig, the first in
Germany. Mendelssohn became its director, and selected Schumann to
teach composition, score reading, and piano. As a teacher, Schumann
does not appear to have been inspired. His reticence and reserve were
Review of 1841 of Chopin's opp. 37, 38, and 42 in GS II, p. 31.
Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 150.

Married Life in Leipzig 185

major hindrances. On one occasion a student played Mendelssohn's Capricdo brillant op. 22 for him: at the conclusion of the performance,
Schumann's only reaction was to remark that "sometime you will have
to hear Clara play it."18 But he was still popular with students. A number "worshipped Schumann with an almost fanatical idolatry"an indication of his ability and accomplishments not as a teacher, but as a
composer.19 It was this growing reputation as a composer that led to
him becoming dissatisfied with his work on the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. He felt frustrated by his obligationsparticularly the large amount
of correspondenceand regretted time spent on such comparatively
mundane matters and not devoted to composition.
Additional frustration was provided by Schumann's troubled relationship with Friedrich Wieck. After his previous treatment by Wieck,
Schumann understandably wanted no further contact with him. Equally
understandable were Clara's hopes for a reconciliationif not between
her husband and Wieck, then at least between father and daughter.
Wieck now lived in Dresden, and remained embittered. Even the announcement of the birth of his granddaughter, Marie, failed to move
him. In April 1842, while Clara was on tour in Denmark, Schumann
wrote to her that her father was spreading rumors that they had separated. Then, on 12 January 1843, Wieck wrote to Clara, asking her to
visit. She responded eagerly, and they began to visit one another the
next month. It was not until December, however, that a rapprochement
was effected between Schumann and Wieck. The success of Schumann's
oratorio, Paradise and the Peri, provided the pretext for Wieck to write
to him, suggesting that they forget the past. That was never achieved,
but for a time they at least came to tolerate one another.
The continued friction with his father-in-law, the frustration concerning his duties with the Zeitschrift, the pressure to earn money to
support his wife and growing familyall produced a time of unusual
stress and tension during the first years of Schumann's marriage. The
diary and household books record periods of depression and selfrecrimination. "Always sick and melancholy" (30 January 1842); "A
Carl Reinecke, "Mendelssohn und Schumann als Lehrer," Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik
LXXVIII (1911), p. 4.
19

Ehlert, p. 56.

l86

SCHUMANN

sinful life" (25 May 1842); "A damned life at present" (12 May 1843);
"Frightful melancholy" (26 June 1843). After completing three major
chamber works within a short period of time, Schumann confessed that
he had worked too much, resulting in a "nervous debility." 21 As in
previous years, he also remained concerned about drinking to excess.
While Clara was in Denmark, he offered this childlike reproach: "I
drink too much. Robert!"22
It was not the best time for Schumann to deal with the turmoil of
a strenuous and lengthy concert tour, but in order to relieve financial
distress, it was decided late in 1843 to travel to Russia. It was an idea
that they had had for several years, even before they had married. Piano
virtuosos had found a concert tour to St. Petersburg and Moscow to
be extremely profitable; most recently Liszt had successfully traveled
there. As further incentive, Adolf Henselt had settled in St. Petersburg,
and would be in a position to offer both advice and support. Schumann
opposed the trip, however, giving as his reason the need to stay at home
and compose. In particular, he was absorbed in the idea of writing an
opera, and it was only after Clara spoke with Mendelssohn and asked
him to try to change her husband's mind, that Schumann's objections
were removed. They departed on 25 January, the children being left in
the care of Schumann's brother, Carl.
It was a long and arduous trip, made all the more difficult by the
notorious harshness of the Russian winter (they purchased a fur blanket
on the way). Because of the snow, sleighs became their usual mode of
transportation. They went first to Riga, and two weeks later to Dorpat.
"You can not believe how much I am looking forward to traveling
with you to St. Petersburg," Schumann had enthusiastically written to
Clara prior to their marriage, "We'll sit side-by-side, cozy in thick furs,
observing people, seeing foreign lands. Sometimes in the coach you
will sing to me a melody from the Kinderszenen, softly, very softly so
that I can scarcely hear it" (30 June 1839). But the trip began poorly.
The diary relates the primitive conditions they encountered, and the
20
21

HSHLT, pp. 206, 215, 251, 254.

17 February 1843 in Tgb II, p. 255.
Entry of 12 April 1842 in HSHLT, p. 211.

Married Life in Leipzig 187

malice and pettiness that often had to be overcome in order to arrange
public performances.
They arrived in St. Petersburg on 4 March. Fascinating insights into
the Schumanns' journey can be gleaned from the travel journal of their
contemporary, the Marquis de Custine. The marquis traveled extensively through many of the same regions of Russia, and published an
account of it in 1839. It is a discerning study, so perceptive that it has
been compared to de Tocqueville's study of the United States. "At Petersburg everything has an air of opulence, grandeur, and magnificence," the marquis observed, "but if we should by this show of things
judge of the reality we should find ourselves strangely deceived. Generally, the first effect of civilization is to render what may be called
material life easy; but here everything is difficult."23
Custine found living conditions to be deplorableSchumann makes
no mention of the vermin that the marquis described as afflicting the
homes of even the aristocracy. But Custine was especially disturbed by
the state of the arts in Russia. "The Russians have not yet reached the
point of civilization," he wrote, "at which there is real enjoyment of
the arts."24 There was little understanding of the arts, the prevailing
fashion being unquestioned acceptance of current Western trends.
Custine's evaluation helps to explain reactions to Schumann's music
and Clara's performances. The center of musical life was the salons of
the noble and wealthy patrons of the arts, and Henselt was able to help
the Schumanns gain entry to them. Particularly supportive was Count
Michail Wielhorski, who, at his own expense, on 21 March provided
a private performance of Schumann's First Symphony, with Schumann
conducting. Three days later, Clara played for the imperial family. But
the four public concerts Clara gave in St. Petersburg were only moderately successful, with mediocre attendance at the first two.
They left St. Petersburg on 2 April, and arrived in Moscow on the
loth, where they stayed for about a month. To Schumann, Moscow
provided the highlight of the trip. He marveled at the beauty of the
Marquis de Custine, Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia (New York,
1989), p. 128.
24
Ibid., p. 206.

188 S C H U M A N N

Kremlin, a point on which he and Custine "were in agreement. "The

Kremlin alone," the marquis had written, "is worth the journey to
Moscow."25 In Schumann's mind the city was filled with associations
with Napoleon, and he noted with interest the residence where Napoleon had stayed in 1812. But for much of the time Schumann suffered
from ill health, including bouts of dizziness, which severely limited his
pleasure. He was also anxious to continue work on his compositions.
He had left Leipzig with ideas of operain February he had worked
on musical settings from Goethe's Faustbut he had become increasingly frustrated by the lack of time and quiet necessary for composition.
There was also, to his mind, little memorable in Russian musical life.
He had been deeply moved by the court choir"the best I have ever
heard"but must have been disgusted by the prevailing passion in St.
Petersburg for Italian opera. Instead of music, Schumann turned to
poetry and wrote a number of poems, including several about Napoleon
in Russia, and the lengthy, historical ballad "The Bell of Ivan Veliky."
Throughout the trip, Clara was the focus of attention. Schumann
had mistakenly believed that not only would the trip provide leisure
for him to compose, but that it would be a dual tour, Clara as pianist
and he as composer. But his works were completely unknown to the
Russian public. Prior to the visit, none had been publicly performed
in Russia. During the trip only two were performed in public: the
Andante and Variations (in Moscow) and the Piano Quintet (in both
Moscow and St. Petersburg).27 Published reaction was neither kind nor
perceptive. The Biblioteka dlja ctenija made reference to the "curious
pieces by Herr Schumann," while the Bibliothek fur Lekture described
Ibid., p. 397Letter of 27 June 1844 to Ignaz Moscheles in Robert Schumann: Manuskripte. Briefe. Schumanniana. Katalog Nr. 188 (Tutzing, 1974), p. 146.
27

Performances of Schumann's work during the trip included: in salons, Kreisleriana (St.
Petersburg), several, perhaps all, of the string quartets (St. Petersburg; on two occasions), and
the Symphony (in Wielhorski's salon in St. Petersburg); publicly, the Andante and Variations
(Moscow; also privately in St. Petersburg), and the Piano Quintet (Moscow and St. Petersburg; also on two occasions privately in St. Petersburg). The listing in Daniel Wladimirowitsch Shitomirski, "Schumann in Russland," in Sammelbdnde derRobert-Schumann-Gesellschaft
Vol. I (Leipzig, 1961), omits a private performance of the Quintet on 17 April; the string
quartets were performed at Wielhorski's not on 14 May, but on the I5th. Also to be added
is the date of the performance of op. 46 in St. Petersburg: 27 April.

Married Life in Leipzig 189

the Piano Quintet as a "tormented, affected, unmusical work."28 Schumann hardly helped matters by his behavior. He felt ill at ease in his
role as traveling companion and little-known composer. During visits
to salons, he generally remained silent, Clara even answering questions
directed to him. Of one visit, a participant recalled: "The entire evening
Schumann was as usual silent and aloof. He spoke very little, and to
questions from Count Wielhorski and the host, A. F. Lvov, he mumbled
unintelligibly . . . for the most part Schumann sat in a corner near the
piano."29 It would have been easy for some to have interpreted Schumann's conduct as arrogant, and few would have known that he was
quiet by nature and, moreover, much of the time feeling poorly.
On 30 May, after an absence of more than four months, the Schumanns returned to their home in Leipzig. Financially (and artistically
for Clara), the trip had been successful. But Schumann appeared to be
eager to make up for lost time and, despite not feeling well, plunged
into composition. Adding to his frustration were his responsibilities with
the Zeitschrift, and he finally resolved to find a buyer for it in order to
devote his time solely to composition. In July, he formally relinquished
the editorship of the journal to Oswald Lorenz. Franz Brendel expressed
interest in purchasing it, and it was arranged that he would become
editor and proprietor on I January 1845.
Schumann continued to immerse himself in compositionparticularly his settings from Faust. So engaged was he in his work that he
failed to recognize how perilously close he was to exhaustion. Both
physically and emotionally, the trip to Russia had been a severe strain.
In the middle of August, his condition worsened. It precipitated a nervous breakdown later that month, one far exceeding in severity the
breakdown of 1833.
A combination of circumstances contributed to Schumann's collapse,
but all can be traced to dissatisfaction with his present state and concern
for the future. His determination to be successful as a composer had,
since his marriage, achieved a measure of urgency. In August 1842,
during their vacation in Bohemia, familiar surroundings brought to
mind his youth (he had previously visited the area with his mother) and

28

Shitomirski, p. 24.
29
J. K. Arnold quoted in Eismann, p. 144.

I90 S C H U M A N N

Schumann recalled: "Great expectations. . . were held of me; they have

been only partially fulfilled . . . much more still remains to be accomplished."30 The Russian trip had only seemed to emphasize how fruitless all his efforts over the past decade had been.
Adding to his frustration was the pressing need to earn more money,
and his inability substantially to do so. Ironically, while his success as a
composer seemed to be proceeding at a snail's pace, his fame as a critic
and ability as an editor was substantial. In 1843 and again in 1846 Schumann declined the editorship of the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung. He
explained his predicament with bluntness to Dorn: "I am basically very
happy [working on the Zeitschrift]. But if I could only get away from
the journal, live as an artist solely for music, not have to concern myself
with so many of the little things which are part of an editor's responsibilities, then I would be completely content with myself and with the
world" (14 April 1839). In his diary, Schumann asked: "Will I ever be
able to live exclusively for my beloved Art? If only Heaven would one
day grant me this favorand while I am still young."31 Schumann
seemed to want nothing more than to be able to devote himself entirely
to composing. But to do so, he was obliged to relinquish not just an
important source of income but what had become an anchor for his
life (and what he had described as his sole "regular sphere of activity,"
5 June 1844). Would he be able to succeed as a composer now that he
had firmly committed himself to that path? It can be no coincidence
that less than two months after making what must have seemed to him
an irrevocable decision, he suffered a nervous breakdown.
A trip to the Harz Mountains in September and an attempt at a cure
in the baths at Carlsbad were ineffective. Thinking a change in scene
might prove beneficial, early in October he and Clara visited Dresden.
Schumann at the time was in the midst of what would be regarded
today as a clinical depression, during which he felt it difficult, if not
impossible, to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. He spent much of
the day motionless, as if in a stupor. According to Clara, he "could
scarcely cross the room without the greatest effort."32 Wieck's idea for
3

August 1842 in Tgb II, p. 235.

21 November 1843 in Ibid., p. 270.
Litzmann II, p. 76.

Married Life in Leipzig 191

a cure was to attempt to "rouse [Schumann] by force,"33 confirmation
of Wieck's no-nonsense temperament, but hardly the best way to deal
with his condition. Schumann "was unable to sleep, and awoke in the
morning in tears, drained of all energy.
Later that month he mistakenly felt the worst had passed, and wrote
to a friend: "Now once again life has some luster to it. ... I believe
that I was too much involved with music, in the end became too
occupied with my music for Goethe's Faust. . . . During this time I
could hear no music at allit cut through my nerves like a knife"
(October 1844). But he still felt dejected, sought rest, and took walks
for distraction. Unlike the nervous breakdown in 1833, its effects (and
his depression) continued off and on for months. Writing to Mendelssohn in the autumn of 1845, he noted that he still had not recovered:
"Every disruption of my simple, orderly life destroys my composure,
and I feel sick and irritable" (22 October 1845).
By the time of Schumann's letter, Mendelssohn was no longer the
full-time conductor of the Gewandhaus orchestra. In November 1842,
he had accepted a position as music director in Berlin, and had moved
from Leipzig one year later. For Schumann, the loss of interaction with
Mendelssohn was a severe one. Ferdinand Hiller was chosen as conductor for the 1843-44 season, and Niels Gade for the next. Although
it has become customary to note Schumann's anger over the selection
that he himself had not been chosen for the position or consulted about
itthere appears to be no justification for this claim. Despite his fondness for Gade, however, Schumann was disturbed that a foreigner had
been selected for the position.
It was decided to leave Leipzig, based in part on the premise that
with Mendelssohn gone, musical life in the city would never attain a
similar level. On a trial basis and on the recommendation of his physician, Dresden was selected for Schumann's new place of residence. On
13 December 1844, still in the midst of a severe depression, the move
was made. Within a few months it became clear that Dresden was a far
from ideal choice, and that his condition had not been improved by
the change. But his continued ill health left little choice but to remain
for the time being. In the end, they stayed for nearly six years.
33 .. .,
Ibid.

C H A P T E R

The Compositions, 184044

We all strive after a wider field, and rush thither like the stream
which at length loses itself in the ocean. The soul struggles for
activity, and comprehends its individuality.
Hans Christian Andersen, O. T.

WOULD OFTEN LIKE TO CRUSH MY PIANO," SCHUMANN

confessed to Heinrich Dorn. "It has become too confining for

my thoughts" (14 April 1839). After nearly a decade of writing almost
exclusively for the instrument, Schumann appeared increasingly dissatisfied. "He who limits himself to the same forms and situations ultimately becomes a mannerist and a Philistine," he wrote in an 1839
review. "There is nothing more detrimental to an artist than to continue
within a genre which has become convenient and comfortable."
By 1840, Schumann may have felt that he himself was in danger of
becoming "a mannerist and a Philistine." His music, while not losing
its vitality, no longer presented with regularity new ideas or concepts.
He had first expressed himself as a "serious" composer by writing liedera half dozen of which had been sent twelve years previously to
Gottlob Wiedebein for his evaluation. Now Schumann turned once
again to writing songs. He did so not just because he clearly needed a
Review of Henselt's Etudes de salon op. 5 in GS I, pp. 38990.

192

The Compositions, 1840-44 193

change from solo piano. There was a strong and growing demand for
lieder in the marketplace. By entering the field, Schumann would be
able not only to broaden his skills and reputation but increase his
earnings.
Despite Schumann's attraction to poetry, during the 1830s he had
shown little interest in setting any to music. On the contrary, he had
expressed a marked preference for instrumental music, writing as late
as June 1839 to Hermann Hirschbach that he did not regard vocal music
as highly. But Schumann's attitude should not be interpreted as indicating any aversion toward vocal composition. Rather, it may express
a confirmation of the belief he expressed in 1828, when he asserted that
the composer was superior to the writer: "Every composer is a poet,
only at a higher level." A composer, then, would not have any particular need to employ words in music; text could become an intrusion.
But whatever debate Schumann may have inwardly conducted concerning the relative merits of instrumental or vocal music, his conviction that he was in danger of no longer developing as a composer helped
to determine his course of action. In 1839 he began to fill a notebook
with poetry suitable to set to music.
The Songs
When Schumann started writing lieder in February 1840, he did so
with enthusiasm. "Sometimes," he wrote to Clara, "it is as if I have
discovered completely new paths in music."3 "Above all else, also write
songs," he later advised a young composer, "this is the quickest way to
progress and to bring to blossom your inner musicality" (4 August
1842). More than 120 solo lieder resulted. Rather than flood the market,
Schumann had a sufficient number to issue gradually over several years.
With his compositions for solo piano, one of the major problems had
been their limited appeal. But with lieder, the proposed audience was
clearly defined. Not yet having attained the status of being suitable for
concert performance, they were intended almost exclusively for performance at home. Schumann did his best to keep in mind for whom
It was maintained until the early 1850s, and contained 169 poems by thirty-four poets. Of
these, Schumann eventually set 101.
Letter of 31 May 1840 in JgBr, p. 315.

194 . S C H U M A N N

he was now writing music. As a result, his songs are noticeably more
melodic in a conventional mannerwith melodies more singable and
memorable.
Much of this change was the result of the different manner in which
Schumann was now composing. Previously, he had composed at the
piano. Now, as he told Clara, he wrote while standing or walking (obviously singing to himself the melody that he was creating). His new
approach is documented by sketches for the songs, most of which consist of a single melodic line, with occasional but infrequent references
to the piano accompaniment. Only after completing the melody did he
compose the full piano part. The accompaniment, however, provides
far more than harmonic support for the voiceand in this, as well as
in the technique required, Schumann set himself apart from many lieder
composers of his day.
Of the lieder composed in 1840, Schumann focused on writing for
solo voice; fewer than two dozen were intended for vocal ensemble
(and of these, most were duets). It is not surprising that he seemed to
prefer to assemble the works of a poet in a single opus. By doing so,
he was able to direct attention to each poet's individuality. The poets
most closely associated today with SchumannEichendorff and
Heineare represented in the Liederkreis op. 39 (Eichendorff), and, for
Heine, the Liederkreis op. 24, Dichterliebe op. 48, and Belsatzar op. 57.
But he also devoted sets to poetry of Justinus Kerner, Emanuel Geibel,
Ruckert, Goethe, Robert Reinick, and Chamisso. These settings are
not song-cycles in the conventional mannerthat is, there is not a
detailed story or plot related in them. But several are unified by mood,
such as the somber melancholy of op. 39 or the drama of unrequited
love and despair in op. 48. In selecting texts to set to music, Schumann
seemed drawn not merely to sentiment (as had been the case in his
juvenile settings), but to opportunities for character development and
psychological representation. He seemed especially attracted to gloomy
and melancholy themeshopeless love, death, intransigence, despondency. Some of his interest can be traced to current fashion. But the
number and intensity of his settings convincingly demonstrate that this
was not merely an attempt to court contemporary taste.
The poetry selected by Schumann often pays tribute to his discerning

The Compositions, 1840-44 195

taste. Much of his success as a songwriter has been attributed to his
ability to enter into the spirit of the poem, and convincingly communicate it in music. His sensitivity to the text was remarkable. But what
set Schumann apart from others was not simply his poetic sensibilities.
He seemed driven to express in music not merely the text of the poem,
but his reading of the poem. For that reason, Schumann did not hesitate
to alter a text to suit his needs. Most frequently, words were changed
or deleted in order to fit a melodic line (or simply to satisfy his fancy).
Even titles were altered, such as Heine's "Die Grenadiere" to "Die
beiden Grenadiere." A successful song was one that created "an impression similar to that awakened by its subject"words used by Schumann to describe what he felt constituted effective music criticism
but an equally appropriate description of his approach to song-writing.
Such an approach was a deeply personal one that resulted in a correspondingly broad array of interpretation. For ballads, such as
Chamisso's "Die rote Hanne" (op. 31 no. 3, a translation from Beranger;
Ex. 10.1) Schumann used a modest, folklike melody, with unobtrusive
piano accompaniment. More artful poetry demanded greater subtlety.
In Heine's "Ich wandelte unter den Baumen" (op. 24 no. 3), the dramatic final line, "Ich aber niemand trau" ("But I trust no one"), is
accentuated by repetition and separation from the rest of the poem
(using a quarter-note rest and harmonic contrast). A solo piano postlude
demonstrates as well the prominence of the piano.
Schumann set nearly forty of Heine's poems to music. Irony and
sarcasmoften placed as a jarring note in the concluding coupletplay
an important role in much of Heine's poetry. But, while Schumann
often plays Heine's irony for all of its worth (the disarming, artless tune
in op. 24 no. 4 is a good instance), there are several instances (for
example, "Das ist ein Floten und Geigen" from Dichterliebe) where it
passes without comment. At these times it seems that musical content
most notably tunefulnesstook precedence.
Despite the striking originality of many of Schumann's lieder, they
remained considerably more accessible and more comprehensible than
his piano compositions of the 1830s. The public did not have to concern itself with arcane titles or word/music games. And the music was
overwhelmingly tuneful, with a sense of natural spontaneity. Vocal lines

196 S C H U M A N N

Ex. 10.1
Nicht schnell, sehr ernst

are smooth with a modest range. Harmony is primarily diatonic in basis,

with chromaticism presented to enhance the text. Unlike the piano
works, the songs do not seem to create a decided break with musical
tradition. Not surprisingly, the influence of Schubert is most noticeable.
With its tuneful simplicity and vacillation between major/minor tonality, Schumann's setting of Kerner's "Erstes Grim" (op. 35 no. 4) could
easily have found a place within Schubert's Die schone Mullerin. More
unusual, and less recognizable, are instances of Schumann's continued
fascination with Bach. The melodic interplay in "Zwielicht" (from the
Eichendorff cycle) resembles that of a two-part Invention.
Among Schumann's most successful songs are his settings from Adelbert von Chamisso's Frauenliebe und Leben (1831; "A Woman's Love and
Life"). Chamisso's poems are the expressions of love of a dutiful, humble, and devoted wife. These are not poems of high qualityfew would
regard Chamisso as a great poetand they are often marred by a maudlin sentimentality. But they are very much a product of their day, both

The Compositions, 184044 197

in sentiment and in the servile attitude toward her husband adopted by
the female narrator of the poems ("I want to serve him, to live for
him,/To belong totally to him"). Schumann selected eight of Chamisso's poems, omitting the last in the set (its omission enhances the
cyclic nature intended by Schumann). He worked rapidly, as was often
the case when he was creating songs. The eight were composed in only
two days, 11 and 12 July 1840, less than a week after learning that
Wieck would no longer be able to prevent his marriage with Clara.
Chamisso intended the poems as a tribute to his wife; Schumann probably thought of them in a similar manner, and regarded the settings as
representative of Clara and her feelings toward him. They were revised
in early May 1843 prior to publication.
Of Chamisso's poetry, much of which was occasional in nature,
Frauenliebe und Leben was the most popular. Prior to Schumann's version, seven of the group (the same as the first seven selected by Schumann) were set in 1836 by Carl Loewe and published as his op. 60 that
same year. Loewe's settings (entitled Frauenliebe) are a world apart from
Schumann's. They are quite simplistic; many are in 6/8, an indication
of their light, almost dancelike nature. Little attention is directed toward
what attracted Schumann to Chamisso's Frauenliebe und Leben: the psychological basis of the poems. Schumann created an idealistic character
portrait: woman as pure, noble, and altruistic. His success in doing so
was largely overlooked in the twentieth century, primarily because of
the subservient nature of the texts. But a contemporary review noted
the "deep inwardness" of the songs and the glimpses provided into "the
depths of the soul."4
Schumann's initial melodic sketches for the songs were hardly altered
at all during the course of composition. But he made the usual comparatively modest deletions and additions to the text. The conclusion
of the second song was altered by repetition of the second line; in the
sixth poem, Chamisso's third stanza was deleted; in the third stanza of
the seventh poem there is slight word substitution: "uberschwenglich"
is replaced by "iiberglucklich" (Schumann appears to have been
4

Franz Brendel, "Robert Schumann mit Rucksicht auf Mendelssohn-Bartholdy und die
Entwicklung der modernen Tonkunst uberhaupt," Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik XXII (1845),
p. 122.

198 S C H U M A N N

disturbed by the appearance of the same word in consecutive lines of

the poem). A particularly interesting change illustrates his willingness
to adapt and modify poetry to suit his musical ideas. For the fourth
song of the set, "Du Ring an meinem Finger," he originally supplied
the melody for a portion of the text shown in Ex. 10.2. Dissatisfied
with the static, stultified effect, he decided to add movement to the
melodic line, and a word ("schonen") to the poem (Ex. 10.3). This
same song provides further indication of the significance Schumann
attached to the symbolic value of rings. It relates the bride's delight in
her own ("You, ring on my finger,/My little golden ring,/With devotion I press you to my lips,/And to my heart"). Schumann's setting
uses a simple, descending melodic pattern (in thirds), which recalls the
concluding movement of the Fantasie op. 17. The sixth song reveals
yet another connection to the Fantasie: a quotation from Beethoven's
An die feme Geliebte (Ex. 10.4). Both the Fantasie and Frauenliebe und
Leben were closely connected in Schumann's mind with Clara.
In contrast to his piano compositions, many of Schumann's songs
were an unqualified success. "My lieder," Schumann wrote with pride
to Ernst Becker, "are much spoken of (28 June 1840). After years of
comparative obscurity, he probably read with pleasure the review in the
Blatter fur Musik und Literatur describing him as "the new herald of new
German Song."5

Ex. 10.2
Innig

der

Kind-heit fried - li-chen

Traum_

Ex. 10.3
Innig

der

Etsmann, p. 126.

Kind - heit

fried

lich

schon - en Traum

The Compositions, 184044 199

Ex. 10.4
Langsam, mit innigem Ausdruck
Lebhafter

The Orchestral Works of 1840

Despite his success, in Schumann's mind there was a greater reputation
to be made in chamber and orchestral compositions. He consistently
expressed his discontent with composers (such as Chopin and Bennett)
who he felt repeated themselves and limited themselves to compositions
within a particular genre or style. To younger composers seeking his
advice, he invariably recommended a more challenging course. Compose songs, he advised, chamber music, orchestral compositionsa direction that he himself selected and, in his mind, the only true path for
a composer.
In October 1840, the household books laconically noted: "Symphonic endeavors." But this attempt ("Un poco Andante") remained
unfinished. During the remainder of the year, Schumann returned to
composing songs. Then, late in January 1841, for two days (the 2ist
and 22nd) the household books referred to work on a symphony in C
minor. This work, too, was not completed. In September he returned
to it, finishing the scherzo, but only publishing it in a version for solo
piano as the thirteenth of the Bunte Blatter op. 99.
The problems Schumann was encountering in writing a symphony
were probably a result of his own apprehension. Beethoven had died
only thirteen years earlier, and Schumann not only venerated his symphonies but was concerned about comparisons of his own work with
Beethoven's. Among contemporaries, it was a different matter. While
there were a number of composersincluding Wagnerwho had written symphonies, many by Schumann's standards would have been
14 October 1840 in HSHLT, p. 164.

20O S C H U M A N N

perceived as conservative, owing more to eighteenth-century ideals

than to those of the Davidsbund. The descriptive term current at the
time was "Neu-Romantisch" ("Neo-Romantic"), the earlier Romanticism being associated with composers of Beethoven's generation. Only
a handful of composers of symphonies were representative of this more
"progressive" style, most notably, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Norbert
Burgrmiller, and Franz Berwald. Both Schubert and Burgmuller were
dead. Berwald was not to enter the field until 1842. In addition, Berwald's and Burgmuller's symphonies remained little known (Schumann
was an admirer of Burgmuller's music, but there is no indication that
he knew any of Berwald's).
At the time of Schumann's interest in writing a symphony, Mendelssohn's reputation as a symphonist rested primarily on his second, the
symphony-cantata, Lobgesang ("Hymn of Praise") op. 52. The "Scottish" Symphony op. 56 was not composed until 1842; the "Italian"
Symphony op. 90 and "Reformation" Symphony op. 107 were published posthumously. Without question, the composer regarded at the
time as the greatest living symphonist was Ludwig Spohr. In 1841,
Spohr was fifty-seven, and his greatest successes were past. He published
nine symphonies (composed between 1811 and 1849) but, despite their
merits, he was an innately conservative musician, drawing on Mozart
rather than Beethoven as his model. In Schumann's eyes, since Schubert's death no one had stepped forth to create an instrumental symphony expressive of the new musical Romanticism.
After working with little success on the C minor symphony on 21
and 22 January, the very next day Schumann abruptly began work on
another symphony, described in the household books as a "Spring Symphony."7 In four days the entire four movements of the symphony were
complete in a piano score. Orchestration was begun on the 27th, and
finished (in its first version) on 20 February. It was an astonishing
achievement; an entire symphony created in four days, and completed
in all essentials within a month. Perhaps one reason for the facility with
which it was produced can be found in the stimulus provided for the
work. As was often the case with Schumann, there was a literary inspiration: a poem by Adolph Bottger, probably given to Schumann by
23 January 1841 in Ibid., p. 172.

The Compositions, 1840-44 201

the poet in the hope that he would set it to music. At a time when, as
Schumann admitted, he was "longing for spring" (10 January 1843), he
took inspiration from the concluding couplet ("O turn, turn from your
course,/In the valleys spring is blossoming!"). Originally there were
titles for each of the four movements: "Spring's Arrival," "Evening,"
"Merry Playmates," and "Spring in Full Bloom." But for the final
movement Schumann later stated that he also had in mind spring's
departure.
Mendelssohn was extremely supportive of the symphony, and conducted the premiere on 31 March. Schumann then put a great deal of
effort into attempting to gain additional performances of the work. In
time, he wrote to conductors in Berlin, Frankfurt, and Kassel (among
others) to interest them in it. Eager to promote his work he described
it to Spohr as "not all that difficult" to perform (23 November 1842).
But despite its pleasing exterior there were aspects of Schumann's symphony that set it apart from those of his contemporaries. Much of it
was grandiose. The ensemble required was larger than the usual symphony orchestra, and included three trombones, four horns, and, most
unusual of all, a triangle. The structure of much of the symphony was
equally distinctive.
The first movement opens with a majestic introduction, similar to
the beginning of Schubert's Symphony No. 9. The Schubert symphonydiscovered by Schumann two years earlierhad met with
considerable acclaim in Leipzig, and in both performance and rehearsal
Schumann had heard it no fewer than six times. What strongly ties the
opening of Schumann's symphony to Schubert's is the reliance in both
on the interval of a rising thirda similarity that caught the attention
of at least one contemporary reviewer. This motive serves as the basis
of much of the movement. Schumann wrote of the passage (Ex. 10.5)
that he wanted the trumpets to sound as if "from on high, a call of
awakening" (10 January 1843).

Ex. 10.5
Andante un poco maestoso

202 S C H U M A N N

This opening created some difficulty for Schumann. He considered

notating it a major third lower, and it was in that version that the
symphony originally was rehearsed. But there were no valves on French
horns at the time, and the pitch had to be created by hand, producing
a muted, muffed sound. It was not at all the vibrant effect intended,
and he was embarrassed by the incidenta result of his unfamiliarity
with instrumentation. Now that Schumann's original passage can be
played with the effect he intended, should it be restored in the score?
He never expressed a preference for the version performed at rehearsaland both variants of the passage appear in sketches for the
work. By the time the orchestral score was published in 1853, the valve
horn had been developed and, if he had chosen to, Schumann could
have altered the symphony to restore the rehearsal version.
Schumann's lack of experience in writing for an orchestra posed serious problems for him, and was probably a major source of frustration.
Since his death, it has become commonplace to criticize his abilities as
an orchestratorMahler even went so far as to reorchestrate Schumann's symphonies. In general, the criticism of Schumann's orchestration has focused on a supposed insensitivity to orchestral color, and a
murky, often thick texture that can obscure thematic content. Mahler
(who altered Beethoven's orchestration as well) decided to lighten the
texture, and suggested cuts for performance.
Much of the lack of clarity in Schumann's instrumentation may be
traced to his perception of the orchestra during these years. He did not
think naturallyas did Berlioz or Wagnerin terms of the orchestra.
A pianist by training, he seemed to think of the piano when orchestrating. While virtuosos such as Liszt often thought of the piano as an
orchestra, and attempted to create orchestral effects on it, Schumann at
times thought of the orchestra as a piano, and tried to transfer pianistic
effects to it. The beginning of the second movement of the First Symphony provides a good example. The melody is played by the first
violins (divisi). But the syncopation in the second violins and violas
offers a rhythmic subtlety thatwhile effective on a pianowith an
orchestra can easily sound muddled and blurred (Ex. 10.6).
As it stands, Schumann's orchestration, while ineffectual in places,
hardly presents obstacles to its comprehension. In time he became more

Ex. 10.6
Larghetto
divisi

204 S C H U M A N N

adept. Orchestration is handled with conspicuous sensitivity, for example, in the works of the latter 1840s and 1850s. What needs to be
remembered is that the orchestra Schumann wrote for was about half
the size of the orchestra of today. With a comparable reduction greater
clarity might result, and complaints about his orchestral bumblings
might diminish in their ferocity.
Of Schumann's four symphonies, the First is the brightest. That may
have been a reason for its popularity. Between 1841 and 1855, there
were at least fifty-three performances of it, including ones in Hamburg,
Berlin, Dusseldorf, Dresden, and Vienna. Spohr, who performed the
work on 18 January 1843 in Kassel, pronounced it "excellent," and told
Schumann that it had been an "extraordinary" success. But Moritz
Hauptmann was more critical, describing it as "somewhat curious, but
always musical."9 There were a number of distinctive characteristics in
the work that probably contributed to Hauptmann's opinion. In the
first movement, the triangleat the time regarded as inappropriate for
a symphonic workappears prominently. In the second movement, the
intense lyricism (recalling that of the slow movements of Schumann's
piano sonatas) is surprisingand rather than closing in a conventional
manner, it moves to establish the tonality of the third movement. The
third movement contains not one but two trios. And, in the fourth
movement, a singular adagio cadenza appears in the development.
Within the movement an alteration in mood is prominent, from light
and graceful to a grandiose conclusion, an effective, but startling change.
Schumann was to follow a similar but more marked approach in the
finale of his Second Symphony.
Less than two weeks after the successful premiere of the symphony,
Schumann began work on another major orchestral work, described in
the household books as a "Suite." It was completed on 8 May. Four
days earlier he had begun to compose a single-movement concerto
("Phantasie") for piano. That, too, was completedincluding orchestrationin a short period of time: only sixteen days. Nine days after
8

Letter to Schumann of 20 January 1843 in Wolfgang Boetticher, ed., Briefe und Gedichte aus
dem Album Robert und Clara Schumanns (Leipzig, 1981), p. 182.
9

Letter to Spohr of 3 November 1843, in Moritz Hauptmann, Briefe an Ludwig Spohr und
Andere (Leipzig, 1876), p. 17.
IO

Entry of 8 May 1841 in HSHLT, p. 182.

The Compositions, 184044 205

completing the concerto, the household books record: "thoughts spring
up for a symphony," the first indication that Schumann was creating
yet another substantial orchestral work. Interrupted by revisions of the
First Symphony and Phantasie, in all essentials this symphony (in D
minor) was complete by October. It was an astonishing record of accomplishment. Most composers would have been content to rest after
completion of a work of such dimensions as the First Symphony. Schumann appeared driven.
The "Suite," after extensive revision, was published as the Overture,
Scherzo, and Finale op. 52. By composing a slow movement for it, Schumann could easily have converted it to a symphony. But that was precisely what he did not want to do. He preferred to emphasize its unique
nature. To Hofmeister, he stressed the "light, friendly character" of the
work, and suggested, despite thematic links between the movements,
that they could be performed separately (5 November 1842). To Clara
he described the Overture as "tender, merry . . . siren-like."12 All of this
was in contrast to the rather earnest and serious nature of a symphony,
and Schumann evidently hoped that the work would appeal to those
who welcomed a change from the standard fare.
Both the D minor Symphony and the Overture, Scherzo, and Finale
were performed on 6 December 1841 at the Gewandhaus, under the
direction of Ferdinand David, concertmaster of the orchestra. It was not
the triumphant success for which Schumann had hoped. Public reaction
was cool. At least some believed that he was attempting to accomplish
too much too quickly. His own reaction was that it had been "too
much at one time" for the audience to grasp, and he lamented as well
that Mendelssohn had been unable to direct the performance (8 January
1842). Both works were revised, but Schumann did not find it a simple
matter to find publishers for them. Op. 52 did not appear in print until
1846 (and in orchestral parts only). The D minor Symphony waited
until 1853, when, after revision, it was published as the Fourth Symphony op. 120. There was difficulty as well in locating a publisher for
the piano Phantasie, a performance of which had occurred privately on
13 August 1841. Only after two additional movements were composed
Entry of 29 May 1841 in Ibid., p. 184.
Diary entry by Clara of 511 April 1841 in Tgb II, p. 158.

206 S C H U M A N N

for it in 1845 (making it a traditional concerto in appearance) was a

publisher found.
The Chamber Works
Schumann could hardly have been encouraged by the reception accorded his recent compositions. For the next six months he composed
little. Then, in June 1842, he began work on a project that had been
at the back of his mind for years: writing string quartets. During the
next eight months he composed chamber music exclusively, writing for
various ensembles but, with the exception of the string quartets, invariably including a piano. After finishing the string quartets in July (a set
of three), he composed the Piano Quintet op. 44 (September and October), the Piano Quartet op. 47 (October and November), the Fantasiestticke for piano trio op. 88 (December), and the Andante and
Variations for two pianos, French horn, and two cellos op. 46 (January
and February).
Schumann's efforts in this new genre led to gradual change in his
musical style, a key to which can be found in his correspondence.
Writing in 1846 to Robert Franz, he offered an impromptu evaluation
of the composer Julius Schaffer. Although he praised Schaffer's originality, he complained of the absence of a "technician."13 What he found
lacking in particular were "steadiness and clarity"a criticism that recalls Hummels, made fourteen years earlier, of Schumann's first two
published works.14 These had never been matters of concern to Schumann earlier in his career. On the contrary, he seemed to take pride in
the obscure and unpredictable nature of his compositions. But Schumann's letter to Franz indicates a shift in musical values. Craftsmanship
as well as clarity became of increasing importance to him, not just in
the work of other composers but in his own. This change first becomes
prominent in the chamber music created in 1842 and 1843. Schumann
no longer seems interested in adapting literary models. Rather, reliance
is shifted to the work of Haydn, Mo/art, and, especially, Beethoven.
Clarity and independence of line were notable characteristics of
Letter of 5 July 1846 in F. Gustav Jansen, "Briefwechsel zwischen Robert Franz und
Robert Schumann," Die Musik VIII (1908/09), p. 354.

The Compositions, 184044 207

much eighteenth-century chamber music. And, like Haydn in his op.

20 string quartets, Schumann used imitation and fugue as a means of
achieving this independence. There are contrapuntal finales to both the
Piano Quartet and the Piano Quintet. That for the quintet is particularly ingenious. It combines in a fugue the primary theme from the
opening movement (now in augmentation) with that from the finale.
The Fantasiestucke op. 88 and the Andante op. 46, while also indebted
to eighteenth-century models, are more indicative of Schumann's fondness for experimentation. The Fantasiestucke actually form a fourmovement piano trio. Although they do not recall the piano
compositions of the 1830s as the title might imply, they are whimsical,
and the length is shorter than that expected for a piano trio. Unlike
the quintet and quartet, they are not showy and grandiose; to Verhulst,
Schumann wrote of their "completely gentle nature" (19 June 1843).
The Andante op. 46 is an experiment in timbre. Schumann may
have received his inspiration for it from his study of the music of Prince
Louis Ferdinand, who explored unusual instrumental combinations in
a chamber setting (such as the Notturno op. 8 for piano, flute, violin,
cello, and two French horns). In the Andante, however, the two pianos
dominate with their almost constant presence (a criticism that could be
made with equal justice of the quintet, quartet, and Fantasiestuicke).
Mendelssohn became closely associated with several of the chamber
compositions. He played the piano at the first performance of the quintet (at the Voigts' on 6 December 1842). And it was his criticism of the
Andantewhose instrumentation he found cumbersomethat led to
Schumann preparing another version of the work for two pianos. It is
in that version that the work is usually heard today, but Schumann's
original conception possesses great charm. He described the work as
"very elegiac. I was, I believe, feeling somewhat melancholy when I
composed it" (19 June 1843).
During the 1840s, Schumann continued the practice of quotation he
had demonstrated in his piano compositions. The Andante quotes
(without acknowledgement) one of the most memorable passages from
Frauenliebe und Leben (found in both the opening and conclusion of the
set; Exx. 10.7, 10.8). The First Symphony includes a passage from Kreisleriana (Exx. 10.9, 10.10). No references to these quotations are found
in Schumann's correspondence or diaries. That there is no mention of

208 S C H U M A N N

Ex. 10.7

Ex. 10.8

them in nineteenth-century criticismor privately from those, such as

Brahms, who knew his work intimatelyis surprising. It is as if a code
of silence had been agreed to by those aware of their presence. Perhaps
this silence stemmed from the often private and personal associations of
the quotations. For theseand others that will be discussed laterseem
to have been intended as autobiographical references.

The Compositions, 184044 209

Ex. 10.9
Allegro animato e grazioso

Ex. 10.10

Of all the compositions created during 1842, Schumann spent the

most time and expended the greatest effort on the three String Quartets
op. 41 (in A minor, F major, and A major). During the previous four
years, he had sporadically expressed interest in composing string quartets. In February 1838, he had announced to Clara his intention of
composing three of them. But she responded with considerable skepticism, and requested that they be "completely understandable" (17 March
1838)a comment that did little to spur Schumann on. During that
time, he was regularly attending performances by Ferdinand David's

210 S C H U M A N N

string quartet, as well as writing a series of string quartet criticism for

the Zeitschrift. But more direct stimulus may have been provided by
Liszt, who wrote to Schumann in May, suggesting that he turn to chamber music.
The following year, Schumann continued to think about string quartets. He wrote to Hermann Hirschbach, himself a composer of quartets,
expressing the hope that, should his duties for the Zeitschrift permit, that
summer he would begin work on them. In June, he informed Clara
that he was composing several (the diary notes that he began work on
one on the 8th; sketches for the opening of two, in E flat and D major,
have survived). But once again she seemed to throw cold water on the
project, suggesting in her reply that he write for orchestra.
Although little progress was made on their composition, time was
found to study Beethoven's late quartets. Of Beethoven's sixteen string
quartets, it was the five composed during the last three years of his life
that held the greatest attraction to Schumann. "Along with some choral
and original works of Sebastian Bach," Schumann wrote, "they [the
late string quartets] seem to me to be on the extreme boundaries of
human art and imagination thus far attained."15 Schumann's desire to
write string quartets resurfaced early in 1842. But composition of them
was delayed, in part because of the concert trip to northern Germany.
On returning, Schumann felt depressed and lonely, but by April he was
immersed in a study of Mozart's string quartets. They were followed
by an examination of Beethoven's and, finally, Haydn's (the household
books do not specify which), as well as separate studies in counterpointall spread out over a period of two months. On 2 June, the
household books announced: "Attempts at a quartet."
It was a great deal of thought and preparation for a genre that was
little appreciated at the time. "The quartet does not harmonize with
the tendency of our age," wrote Louis Ehlert, "for [our time] rather
inclines to orchestral music and massed choruses, and also to the stage,
striving to express grand passions and moods by means of grand resources. The quartet, this classic, primal form of pure music, in our day
"Riickblick auf das Leipziger Musikleben im Winter 18371838," in GS I, p. 380.
I6

HSHLT, p. 216.

The Compositions, 184044 211

is only touched upon from, motives of traditional habit or devotion."17

There was no question that the string quartet had become neglected,
providing in Schumann's eyes an ideal opportunity to display his "devotion" for it.
Composition of his string quartets was, in contrast to the speed with
which Schumann seemed usually to compose, a slow and laborious
process. He spent two months (June and July) on them. The sketches
are in piano score, often the melody alone being notated or melody
and bassan approach that recalls that adopted for his lieder. The effects
of his study of the quartets of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven are evident. Several movements in the string quartets are monothematic, a
favorite device of Haydn, but Schumann's monothematicism is often
more lyrical in basis (as in the first movement of the Second Quartet).
It is the influence of Beethoven that is most noticeable, especially
that of the late quartets: unusual and unexpected tonal relationships (the
introduction to the first movement of the First Quartet is in A minor,
the remainder of the movement in F major); extreme chromaticism
(the third movement of the Third Quartet); disruptive rhythmic configurations (the second movement of the Third, the finale of the Second); emphasis on fugato and imitation (the first movement of the First
Quartet); and adaptations of conventional structures (an unusual theme
and variations replacing the scherzo in the Third; the introduction of a
triolike section in the finale of the same quartet). But in addition to
these general similarities, there is a specific association with Beethoven's
String Quartet op. 132. It served as a model for Schumann's First Quartet, with strong structural and thematic similarities binding both the
slow movements.
The string quartets always remained works that Schumann held in
particular esteem (an opinion shared by their dedicatee, Mendelssohn).
Reaction was broadly favorable, particularly among those who previously had had their doubts about Schumann's ability. Hauptmann
praised their "artistic moderation with fresh, exuberant fancy."
Spohr, who privately had discovered "sheer revelings in strangeness" in
18

Louis Ehlert, From the Tone World (New York, 1885), p. 242.
Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 222.

212 S C H U M A N N

Schumann's earlier work, found "no lack of the unusual" in the quartets, but pronounced them "cleverly conceived."19 Schumann's greater
dependence on traditional models led those with more conservative
taste to gain greater comprehension of his work. At the same time, he
was being perceived as less of a fiery, musical hothead. The danger to
Schumann lay in the degree to which he became dependent on musical
tradition, with academicism replacing originality.
Paradise and the Peri
In February 1843, Schumann completed revisions of the Piano Quartet
and Piano Quintet prior to publication. He then turned to a project
that had first attracted his attention eighteen months earlier. The idea
for it appears to have come from his boyhood friend Emil Flechsig
at least so Flechsig believed. Flechsig gave to Schumann his translation
of a tale, "Paradise and the Peri," from Thomas Moore's Lalla Rookh:
An Oriental Romance (1817). But Moore's poem (which consists of four
tales, all in verse, interspersed with a prose narrative) had enjoyed considerable popularity not just in England but also in Germany, where
several translations were available. One had even been published in 1822
by the Schumann firm, so there is a good possibility that, despite Flechsig's assertions, he was mistaken. Still, if Schumann had previously read
the work, it had had no noticeable effect on him. When he read it in
August 1841, he was enchanted by it. "Perhaps there is something of
beauty in it which can be used in a musical way," he wrote in the
20
diary.
"At the moment," he informed Carl Kossmaly, "I am involved in a
major project, the greatest that I have ever undertaken it is not an
opera I nearly think of it as a new genre for the concert hall" (5 May
1843). Schumann later described it as an oratorio, "but not for the
chapel rather, for cheerful people" (3 June 1843). Unlike the usual
oratorio, there were no religious themes or weighty biblical basis for
his new work. Taking advantage of the popularity of oratorio in Germany, it was his hope that, by creating one markedly different in plot,
Ibid
20

Entry of 18 July-8 August 1841 in Tgb II, p. 179.

The Compositions, 184044 213

his work would be judged both more entertaining and distinctive. As

he wrote in the diary: "With the exception of some oratorios by
Loewewhich lean towards the didacticI know of nothing like it."
To Schumann, Moore's tale seemed "made for music. The idea for
it is so poetic, so pure, that I am completely inspired by it" (19 June
1843). There "were several reasons for his enthusiasm. The four stories
in Lalla Rookh are presented in a manner recalling the Arabian Nights:
they are related by the Sovereign of Bucharia (disguised as the minstrel,
Feramorz) to his betrothed. The entire work is imbued with the romantic allure of the Middle East, an exoticism much in vogue at the
time. Schumann, too, was charmed by this exoticism, and hoped that
the public's interest in it would increase popularity of his work. But he
was also drawn by the plot of "Paradise and the Peri." In Persian mythology, a peri is a fairy descended from angels who have committed
evil deeds. In order to gain admittance to paradise, the peri must submit
to penance. In Moore's tale, the peri is asked to "bring to this Eternal
Gate/The Gift that is most dear to Heaven!/Go, seek it, and redeem thy
sin;/'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in!"22 The peri makes three attempts to locate this precious "gift." Her first two giftsthe last drop
of blood from one who has sacrificed his life in the cause of freedom
and the final sigh of a maiden who sacrificed her life for loveare
deemed noble but insufficient. When she brings the tear from a repentant sinner, the peri is welcomed into paradise. Moore's poem revels in
sentimentality. And, despite Schumann's statement to the contrary, it is
overwhelmingly didactic and moralistic. But what seemed to draw him
to it was the concept of sin, guilt, and redemption. These "were topics
that greatly interested Schumann, and he returned to them in other
major compositions, including Faust, Genoveva, The Pilgrimage of the Rose
(Der Rose Pilgerfahrf), the Requiem for Mignon, and Manfred.
Schumann began to adapt the text of Peri within days of reading it.
Work continued intermittently during August 1841interrupted by
revisions of the First Symphony and Phantasie for piano. On 22 August,
Entry of 28 June 1843 in Ibid., p. 266. Schumann probably had Loewe's Gutenberg (1836)
and Palestrina (1841) in mind.
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore (New York, n.d.), p. 414.

214 S C H U M A N N

he noted in the household books: "Working on the text for "Peri"

nearly finished."23 But he was overly optimistic. He turned to the poet
who had supplied the inspiration for his First Symphony, Adolph Bottger, for assistance. According to the household books, work with Bottger occurred in August and December, after which Schumann
continued for several weeks on the text himself, finishing it on 6 January 1842 (with some additional touches that autumn).
Paradise and the Peri was divided into three parts, each based on one
of the peri's attempts to gain entry into paradise. It is an effective approach dramatically, for the angel's response to the first two of the
peri's efforts is delayed until the succeeding part, heightening audience
curiosity in the process. But, overall, Moore's poem posed a serious
problem of which Schumann seemed unaware. The most exciting part
of the narrative is that associated with the peri's initial attempt to enter
paradise. It is filled with pomp and melodrama, and Schumann made
good use of the battle scenes. But the remaining episodesthe
maiden's self-sacrifice and the repentant sinnerare in essence contemplative, and offer little opportunity for contrast. Schumann created
some much-needed variety with additions to the text, including the
lively chorus (No. 18) that opens Part IIIbut it is not enough. "Paradise and the Peri" occupies less than a dozen pages in Lalla Rookh,
and, for the reader, the lack of contrast creates little difficulty. But for
an oratorio that lasts an hour and a half, contrast is essential. A more
experienced composer might have realized from the start that Moore's
poem was, from a musical point of view, flawed for purely practical
reasons.
The composition of Paradise and the Peri was the most substantial
work Schumann had undertaken: nearly 250 pages of full score, comprising twenty-six pieces for orchestra, solo voices, and chorus. He
spent nearly four months on its composition, from 23 February until
17 June 1843. Additional time was spent revising the score in July; as
late as 20 September he was reworking the concluding chorus for Part
I (No. 9).
There were more new elements in Paradise and the Peri than its exotic
23

HSHLT, p. 191.

The Compositions, 1840-44 215

subject matter. Schumann was attempting a new approach in the music
for it as well. To Franz Brendel, he described the two most significant
aspects: "the absence of recitative and the manner in which the musical
pieces continuously move from one to another" (20 February 1847).
Although the oratorio follows conventional practice in assigning numbers to the individual segments that comprise it, Schumann's goal was
to create a composition without seams. In place of recitative, he created
a distinctive arioso, one that often blurred the distinction between it
and the more lyrical, arialike sections.
Yet another indication of Schumann's progressive spirit is the recurrent use of thematic motives both to unify and to offer a musical commentary on the text. Two themesboth initially presented within the
first few pages of the scoreare associated with the peri and recur with
regularity (Ex. 10.11).
The Peri was first performed on 4 December 1843 in Leipzig under
Schumann's direction, and repeated a week later, in both instances to
acclaim. Between 1843 and 1855 it was performed approximately fifty
times, a clear indication of its popularity. The innovations introduced
by Schumann in Peri did not hamper its success, but neither did they
noticeably contribute to it. The public seemed to be charmed not by
Schumann's originality but by the work's tunefulness. Not unexpectedly,
there was debate in the press over whether it was an oratorio or an
opera (though the piece was not staged as an opera would have been)
clearly, some were confused by the original subject selected by Schumann. To those who had still held reservations about his ability, Paradise
and the Peri seemed to resolve them. "[The composer] has found his

Ex. 10.11
Andante

2l6

SCHUMANN

way out of the fog," wrote Hauptmann, "and learnt how to enjoy
loveliness and simplicity."24
All was part of Schumann's growing fame. The number of his followers was now steadily increasing, and formed the basis of what could
easily be perceived as a Schumann school of composition. Works with
distinctly Schumannian titles began to appear, such as Robert Volkmann's Phantasiebilder op. 1. The Leipziger Zeitung described Paradise and
the Peri as Schumann's "first great composition."25 The praise undoubtedly was welcome, but Schumann may well have asked himself what
he would need next to accomplish both to substantiate and maintain
his growing reputation.

Letter of 18 December 1843 in Moritz Hauptmann, Letters of a Leipzig Cantor, 2 vols.

(New York, 1972), II, p. 11
Gerd Nauhaus, "Schumanns Das Paradies und die Peri," in Akio Mayeda and Klaus Wolfgang Niemoller, eds., Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretationen (Mainz, 1987), p. 144.

C H A P T E R

1 1

The Years in Dresden

A poet, as he is to others of the highest wisdom, pleasure, virtue,

and glory, so he ought personally to be the happiest, the best, the
wisest, and the most illustrious of men . . . the greatest poets have
been of the most spotless virtue, of the most consummate prudence, and, if we could look into the interior of their lives, the
most fortunate of men.
Shelley, A Defence of Poetry

VEN PRIOR TO THEIR MARRIAGE, SCHUMANN HAD BRIEFLY

considered settling with Clara in Dresden (primarily as a means of

avoiding Wieck). It was only about sixty miles southeast of Leipzig and
since 1839 connected by traina three-hour journey that Schumann
had felt was convenient enough for him to continue his work with the
Zeitschrtft. But it was a city markedly different in character from Leipzig:
not a bustling commercial center, but residence of the King of Saxony
and his court. As might be expected, it was far more stratified socially.
Its artistic climate differed as well. Dresden did not possess the stimulating and variegated musical life of Leipzig. Rather, it was renowned
for its academy of art and the distinguished painters associated with it.
If, in selecting a new residence for Schumann, the intention had been
to choose one that bore little resemblance to any other place in which
he had lived, then Dresden was an ideal choice. But ifand this would
217

2l8 S C H U M A N N

have made greater sensethe goal had been to achieve some measure
of continuity, the selection could hardly have been more unfortunate.
In the weeks and months following the Schumanns' move to Dresden, the primary concern remained his health. In the household books,
Schumann continued to note the lack of improvement: "Once again
great nervous debility" (7 February 1845); "111 in the eveningsleepless
nightthe day on which Beethoven died" (27 March 1845); "Nervous
complaint" (2 May 1845); "Very ill" (20 August 1845); "In the evening,
problems with nerves" (19 November 1845). In June, he complained
of weakness in his eyes and dizziness.1
Within a short time of arriving in Dresden, Schumann met Dr. Carl
Gustav Carus, physician to the court. He soon became Schumann's
physician as well. Carus was a remarkable man, in many ways possessing
ideal credentials to help Schumann regain his health. At the time of
their meeting, Carus was fifty-five, and had served as physician at the
court since 1827. He was a man of wide interests and accomplishments.
Like Schumann, he had studied at the University of Leipzig, where he
had earned degrees both as a doctor of philosophy and doctor of medicine. His scientific expertise was broad, and in medical circles he possessed a formidable reputation for his studies in gynecology, anatomy,
and physiology. What distinguished Carus from more conventional
physicians was his fascination with the human spirit, and, in particular,
the significance of dreams. He published several books associated with
the subject, most notably Psyche (1846; 2nd edition in 1850) and Mnemosyne (1848). Mental illness was a related area of interest.
Carus had an extraordinary curiosity about the arts and the creative
process. Music was one of his great passions (Mozart and Bach were
his favorite composers). His home was always open to gifted musicians.
In the winter of 1829-30, accompanied by her father, Clara Wieck had
performed at Carus's home and astounded him with her ability. Among
modern composers, his tastes were broad and discerning, and included
Berlioz, Paganini, Wagner, Mendelssohn (a particular favorite), and Liszt
(whom he described as a "volcano").
HSHLT, pp. 380, 383, 387, 391, 397, 406.
Carl Gustav Carus, Lebenserinnemngen und Denkwurdigkeiten, ed. Elmar Jansen. 2 vols. (Weimar, 1966), II, p. 107.

The Years in Dresden 219

It would be difficult to conceive of someone with greater understanding and sensitivity to the music and literature of his day. Yet, this
was by no means the extent of his fascination with the arts. He was
also a gifted landscape artist. As a painter, he was naturally very much
at home in Dresden, and he associated regularly with the artists at the
Academy. Carus had been a close friend as well of the greatest German
landscape painter of his time, Caspar David Friedrich. His friendship
with Friedrich led to the publication of Nine Letters on Landscape Painting
(1831; 2nd edition 1835), a valuable aesthetic treatise on the art of the
time.
Physician, painter, aesthetician, lover of musicCarus's unique personality and remarkable gifts could have helped him gain unusual insight
into the nature of Schumann's illness. The first indication of a professional relationship between Carus and Schumann is found in a reference
in the household books for 27 August 1845: "Early in the day consultation with Hofrath Carus."3 On 25 October, Schumann noted: "Bad
reaction to Carus's pillsevil day."4 References to Carus in the household books continue until the Schumanns' departure from Dresden in
1850, but no further particulars of the treatment are offered. Additional
notices are brief, and most refer to social engagements. The only further
information concerning Carus's treatment of Schumann is found in a
letter to Mendelssohn, in which Schumann wrote that Carus had advised early morning walks, "which suit me very well" (20 September
1845).
The absence of details concerning the treatment is both frustrating
and perplexing. There can be little doubt that Schumann's illness would
have been of interest to Carus. He was especially familiar with the
effects of melancholiaaspects of which he had witnessed for years in
the behavior of Caspar David Friedrich (and that he had discussed in a
biography he had written of Friedrich in 1841). It is puzzling why
absolutely no mention of Schumann or his condition occurs in Carus's
writings and, in particular, his autobiography. Anecdotes and evaluations
of other musicians (including Clara) are frequently present, so much so
that Schumann is conspicuous by his absence. Carus published his
HSHLT, p. 398. "Hofrath" was Carus's court title.
Ibid., p. 404.

22O S C H U M A N N

autobiography in two parts in 1865 and 1866, three years before his
own death. At that time, Clara was still active as a concert artist. Given
his attachment to the family and the scandal often associated in the
nineteenth century with mental illness of any type, it appears likely that
Carus exercised discretion and eliminated all references to Schumann
from his text.5
In addition to Carus, while in Dresden Schumann was under the
care of another physician, Dr. Carl G. Helbig. Schumann's association
with Helbig had begun in October 1844, and lasted the entire time of
his stay in Dresden. Other than the use of cold plunge baths and undetermined medication (which Schumann often found a pretext for not
taking), details of Helbig's treatment are not knownalthough there
was an attempt at mesmerism (hypnosis) in January 1845. Helbig later
provided Wasielewski with details of the most disturbing aspects of
Schumann's general condition:
As soon as [Schumann] concerned himself with anything of a mental nature,
he trembled, felt faint, and cold in his feet. He was in an anxious state with
a particular fear of dying. This expressed itself with a fear of high mountains
and buildings, of all metal objects (even keys), of medicines and of being
poisoned. He suffered from insomnia, and felt worst in the morning.

Helbig was of little help to Schumann; Carus's early morning walks

were probably more efficacious. But he did suggest to Schumann that
he spend less time on music and find distraction in other subjects. Unfortunately, it was advice that Schumann did not follow.
During his illness, Schumann was never reluctant to discuss the matter with friends and associates, at least in part because he wished to
explain why he was composing so little. But he was truly unaware of
the seriousness of his condition. He was eager to attribute his collapse
to overwork"too much involved with music," as he put itparticularly the work on Faust. "I lost every melody just as I thought of it,"
he later told August Kahlert.7 To Robert Franz, Schumann noted that
A number of Carus's writings, including portions of his autobiography, remain in manuscript. There is a good possibility that an examination of these sources may provide further
information about Schumann's mental health during the 1840s.
W, pp. 351-52. Helbig also noted the presence of "auricular delusions" (p. 352).
Ibid., p. 356.

The Years in Dresden 221

he had to be careful because all music "often made me very
8
melancholy."
That Schumann tended to underestimate the severity of his illness
and to believe that it was a result of nerves and too much contact with
musicis not surprising. Moritz Hauptmann had suffered symptoms
superficially similar to Schumann's in 1827, and had simply attributed
them to an attack of nerves. Hauptmann wrote: "The very first note
or chord gives me such a jar (whether physical or mental I cannot say),
that I am only too glad to stop at once. I feel the note and the vibration
of the metal string in my eyes and in my teeth (as a galvanized frog
might) . . . Long walks, quiet mornings spent in the calm of open-air
nature, where everything is so naturalthese are the antidotes."9
While Hauptmann bounced back from his attack with little difficulty,
Schumann's return to health was a slow process with frequent setbacks.
In his attempt to cure himself and return stability to his life, he turned
to literature, more specifically the Davidsbund, conceiving the idea of
writing the biography of a member of the Bund with himself as model.
And he returned to an old pastime, one that he had used before in
times of boredom and depression: the study of counterpoint. The
gamethe playful quality of counterpointseemed to serve as a beneficial source of relaxation for him. It also provided him with a
continued sense of accomplishment. Late in January 1845, he noted in
the household books: "Studies in counterpoint begun "with Clara."10
February and March were spent on fugue, resulting in what Schumann
described as a "passion for fugues."11 At the same time Schumann's
interest in Bach grew more lively. Late in January 1845, he wrote to
Breitkopf & Hartel, offering to assemble a new edition of the WellTempered Clavier using available manuscript and early editions as his primary sourcesan edition very much needed at the time (unfortunately,
nothing came of the proposal).
Schumann's study resulted in a series of compositions created in 1845,
8

Letter of 21 November 1844 in F. Gustav Jansen, "Briefwechsel zwischen Robert Franz

und Robert Schumann," Die Musik VIII (1908/09), p. 347.
9

Letter of 15 June 1827 in Moritz Hauptmann, Letters of a Leipzig Cantor, 2 vols. (New York,
1972), I, pp. 7-8.
10
23 January 1845 in HSHLT, p. 379.
21 February 1845 in Ibid., p. 381.

222 S C H U M A N N

primarily contrapuntal in nature, including the Studies for Pedal Piano

op. 56, the Sketches for Pedal Piano op. 58, the Four Fugues op. 72,
and his monumental tribute to Bach, Six Fugues on the Name, "Bach"
op. 60. In no way do these works give an indication of Schumann's
mental turmoil. But in a fragile mental state, he must have thought it
helpful as a composer to be obliged to follow the numerous rules of
counterpoint required by the style he had selected; in that sense, it was
as if self-imposed boundaries had been erected, and some of the freedom
of thought that appeared to frighten him at the time had been removed.
During the summeran interlude from his contrapuntal obsessions
Schumann completed the final two movements of the Piano Concerto
op. 54 (the first movement, the "Phantasie," had been composed in
1841), a work that was to become a staple of Clara's concert tours.
Some distraction was provided during the year by reading, including
Goethe, Schiller, and Shelley. But invariably his reading served less as
distraction than as thoughts for compositions. Opera was still on his
mind. It remained the one significant genre that he had not yet attempted, and it was as well an assured though difficult means of building
on his growing fame. He had during these years a great number of ideas
for possible libretti, including legends (King Arthur, Tristan), and plots
from the works of Byron, Hoffmann, and Goethe, among othersbut
none completely satisfied him.
On 11 March 1845, the Schumanns' third daughter, Julie, was born.
During the years in Dresden, the family grew considerably. Emil, their
first son, was born on 8 February 1846, and was followed by two others,
Ludwig on 20 January 1848 and Ferdinand on 16 July 1849. Clara was
pregnant much of the time, and had, as might be expected with six
children all under the age of eight, little time for music.
By December 1845, Schumann's condition had improved to such an
extent that he was able in an exceptionally short period of time to
sketch a symphony in C major, published in 1847 as the Second Symphony op. 61. He came to view the work as representative both of the
difficulties of the past year, and of his return to health. But he must
have known that there was little chance of the symphony being performed in Dresden. Even prior to the move Schumann had written to
Ferdinand David, noting that in the city "there is so little music to

The Years in Dresden 223

hear" (25 November 1844). This was a complaint that continued over
the years. To Mendelssohn, he remarked on how much he missed the
musical life in Leipzig, "so dead is it here in comparison" (27 October
1846).
Two weeks after arriving in Dresden, Schumann had made a solitary
pilgrimage to the grave of Carl Maria von Weber. For nine years, Weber
had been Kapellmeister of the German opera in Dresden; in Schumann's
eyes he represented both the musical potential of the city and its subsequent decay. Weber's successor was Carl Reissiger (17981859) who,
Schumann wrote, "understands only his own music and that of Philistines" (2 January 1849). Schumann was never able to become part of
official musical circles in Dresden. "Always, a solitary life," he wrote
in the household books.
There were few musicians with whom Schumann enjoyed associating -while in Dresden. He admired the artistry of the soprano, Wilhelmine Schroder-Devrient, at the time approaching the close of a
remarkable career (his Dichterliebe op. 48 was dedicated to her). But he
had little in common with her extravagant lifestyle and temperament.
Probably his closest friend in Dresden was Ferdinand Hiller. Hiller, one
year younger than Schumann, was a gifted pianist and composer whom
Schumann had first met in Leipzig in December 1839. From the start,
Schumann had liked him. Hiller was also a good friend of Mendelssohn
and, as a result of a seven-year residence in Paris, knew Chopin, Liszt,
and Berlioz. He and Schumann got along well, but Hiller's friendship
was small recompense for the numerous friends and musical associates
Schumann had had while living in Leipzig.
While in Dresden, Schumann also came into fairly frequent contact
with Richard Wagner (they had probably first met in 1830). It would
be difficult to conceive two more different temperaments. Wagner was
self-centered and, although possessed of great charm, dominated his
relationships. He was, as well, extremely talkative, which Schumann
found annoyingjust as Wagner was vexed by Schumann's imperturbable silence during conversations. "He has an enormous gift of gab,"
Schumann observed of Wagner "stuffed full of overwhelming ideas.
12

2 March 1845 in Ibid.

224 . S C H U M A N N

One can not listen to him. for long."13 In Dresden, Wagner held the
position of court Kapellmeister, second in seniority to Reissiger.
Schumann's opinion of Wagner's music was mixed. He studied the
score of Tannhduser and wrote to Mendelssohn finding nothing of merit
in it: "[Wagner] is unable to write four measures in succession well"
(22 October 1845). But after seeing the work performed, he wrote again
the next month, taking back his earlier comments. To Dorn he described the work as "deep, original, in general 100 times better than
[Wagner's] earlier operas," although containing some "musical trivialities" (7 January 1846). Still, Schumann retained serious reservations
about Wagner. "He i s . . . not a good musician," Schumann concluded,
"he lacks a sense of form and euphony" (8 May 1853).
In the absence of a core of professional musicians with whom Schumann could associate, he found himself spending more time with dilettantes. There were a number of passionate music lovers in Dresden,
many of them artists associated with the Academy. A devoted circle,
including Eduard Bendemann, Ernst Rietschel, Rudolf Hubner, and
Ludwig Richter (Carus was also a member of the group), met frequently. Social evenings often occurred in the Bendemann home, and
performances of chamber music were a standard feature.
During the years in Dresden, Schumann's life gradually took on a
daily routine: work in the mornings, ideally a walk after lunch (his
preferred form of recreation, often taken with Clara), work resumed in
the afternoon until six, then to a favorite restaurant to read the paper
and have a glass of beer, returning at eight to dine (Clara's practice time
was from six until eight). Such routinewhich all his life Schumann
seemed partial tono doubt helped to stabilize his life in Dresden, and
had a beneficial effect on him. Nonetheless, there were recurrences of
nervous depression and disturbing physical complications. In February
1846, he began orchestrating the Second Symphony (premiered in Leipzig nine months later). In March he noted singing and noises in his
ears, and in the household books described himself as "very ill. "I4 The
condition persisted until the autumn.
Dissatisfaction with their status and life in Dresden remained con13

17 March 1846 in Tgb II, p. 398.

14

5 March 1846 in HSHLT, p. 415.

The Years in Dresden 22$

stant, and led to thoughts of moving elsewhere. Despite Schumann's
unpleasant experience eight years earlier, it was decided to give a series
of concerts in Vienna, with the possibility of settling there. They left
on 23 November, taking Marie and Elise with them. The Schumanns
gave four concerts in Vienna: 10 December, 15 December (at which
the Quintet and the Andante op. 46 were performed), 1 January (Schumann conducted the First Symphony op. 38 and the Piano Concerto
op. 54), and 10 January. Attendance at the concerts was poor. What
salvaged the trip for them was the presence in Vienna of the singer
Jenny Lind, then at the height of her fame. She graciously offered to
appear with Clara at her final concert, and as a result the concert was
sold out.
They returned to Dresden on 4 February, but stayed less than a week.
A performance of Schumann's Paradise and the Peri was scheduled later
in the month in Berlin, and it was decided to combine that performance
(which Schumann would conduct) with several recitals by Clara. They
left on the 10th. The presentation of the Peri by the prestigious Singakademie was to occur on the 20th, but Schumann found the rehearsal
time to be inadequate and the singers testy. Two soloiststhe tenor
and sopranosuddenly withdrew shortly before the concert (Schumann described their conduct as "perfidious," 20 February 1847) and
replacements for them had to be found hurriedly. The work was performed, without the benefit of a full rehearsal, to only moderate acclaim. Clara's recitals on 1 and 17 March were better received. Still,
despite their less than spectacular success, dissatisfaction with Dresden
now led them to contemplate the possibility of moving to Berlin,
where, they felt, there at least existed a more active musical life.
During 1847, Schumann remained busy as a composer, most notably
completing two piano trios (of contrasting character, in D minor op.
63 and F major op. 80). But much of his effort was devoted to opera.
Since settling in Dresden, he had been searching diligently for a suitable
text. On 1 April he read Friedrich Hebbel's drama Genoveva, and was
immediately taken with it. Converting it to a libretto occupied him for
much of the remainder of the year, the music being created during the
first eight months of 1848.
Schumann's slow progress with Genoveva was interrupted by tragedy.
On 22 June 1847 Emilat that time the Schumanns' only sondied.

226 S C H U M A N N

Sixteen months old, he had not been well for weeks and his death was
not unexpected. At an earlier time, it probably would have plunged
Schumann into despair, but he had recovered sufficiently from his depression to respond with fortitude and resignationin the nineteenth
century it was not uncommon for parents to have to deal with the grief
of losing an infant. Plans had been under way in Zwickau for a small
music festival devoted to Schumann's most recent compositions. Because of Emil's death, it was postponed until mid-July. The intention
of the festival was to pay homage to Zwickau's successful, native son,
and for two days (10 and 11 July) his music was performed, including
the Second Symphony and the Piano Concerto. Schumann was welcomed by Kuntsch, and there was a torchlight procession and serenade
in his honor.
Yet the autumn brought additional discouragement. In September,
Schumann learned that Ferdinand Hiller would soon be leaving Dresden in order to assume the position of music director in Dusseldorf.
The loss of frequent contact with Hiller was truly unfortunate. But of
even greater effect on Schumann was the death of Mendelssohn on 4
November. Schumann was devastated. Mendelssohn died as the result
of a series of strokes, and according to Dr. Helbig, Schumann now
feared he would die in a similar manner. During the previous year, the
relationship between Mendelssohn and Schumann had (on Mendelssohn's part) become somewhat strained. He had been convinced that
Schumann had "stirred up a very ugly story about me."15 The nature
of the "story" is not known, but Mendelssohn's accusation makes little
sense. Pettiness and malice were far removed from Schumann's character. Mendelssohn was by nature extremely sensitive and quick to take
offense. More than likely, the basis for his anger was a misunderstanding.
After Mendelssohn's death, Schumann organized his personal recollections of him. They were probably intended to serve as the basis for
an extensive tribute, similar in nature to the eulogy Schumann had
written for Ludwig Schuncke in 1834. But the essay was never written.
Notes for it have survived, and they continue to show the high regard
in which Schumann held Mendelssohn. In December, Schumann wrote
Letter to Karl Klingemarm of 31 January 1847 quoted in Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann
(London, 1925), p. 153.

The Years in Dresden 227

to Breitkopf & Hartel, publishers of the string quartets op. 41. Because
the quartets were dedicated to Mendelssohn, the work had taken on
particular significance to Schumann, and he wrote expressing the wish
that the full score (and not just the parts) would finally appear in print.
As time passed, his reverence for Mendelssohn did not diminish. In
1850, he made a point of visiting Mendelssohn's grave in Berlin.
Perhaps the most damaging aspect of Schumann's stay in Dresden
was the infrequent opportunity for social interaction, particularly involving music. Ironically, Hiller's departure for Dusseldorf provided
Schumann with the occasion to become more actively engaged in the
musical life of the city. Since 1845, Hiller had been director of an amateur men's choral group, the Liedertafel (Wagner had been Hiller's
predecessor). Schumann now took over the group. Choral societies
for men, women, and mixednourished in Biedermeier Germany.
Male choral groups were particularly popular, and Dresden, with nearly
a half dozen, was a center of their activity. Schumann had had some
experience conducting choral ensembles (most notably, as part of Peri)
and in 1846, inspired by a choral group that Mendelssohn had founded
in Leipzig, he had composed several choral works, including the Five
Songs by Robert Burns op. 55. On 20 November, he assumed direction
of the Liedertafel, and within a short period of time had created several
pieces for it, including the three songs of op. 62 and the Ritornelle op.

65.
Schumann's association with the group was beneficial. It provided
him with an opportunity to refine and develop his skills as a conductor
but, more important, could serve as a center of activity replacing his
work for the Zeitschrift. Schumann recognized the significance of the
work to his well-being, and wrote to Hiller that it had "restored in me
the conviction of my ability to direct, which, in my nervous hypochondria, I thought was completely gone" (10 April 1849). As a result
of his relationship with the group, he decided to create a larger, mixed
choral ensemble, later named the Verein fur Chorgesang (Choral
Society). The idea came to him only nine days after the first rehearsal
of the men's chorus, and he moved quickly to form the group, its
meetings beginning early in January. At its largest, there were thirty
to forty sopranos, twenty altos, fifteen tenors, and thirty basses.
Schumann clearly enjoyed his work -with the Chorverein, and decided

228 S C H U M A N N

to concentrate on it; in October 1848, he gave up his association with

the men's chorus. "I found too little true musical aspiration," he wrote
to Hiller of the Liedertafel, "and did not feel suited to it, although they
were fine people" (10 April 1849).
Schumann took his duties seriously, at times seeming to forget that
he was dealing with amateurs who preferred their musical experience
to be both amusing and entertaining. There were challenging goals for
the group, Schumann selecting for study only works he felt to be of
particular merit. Taking advantage of the opportunity available to him,
over the next several years he composed a number of choral compositions, most notably the romances and ballads opp. 67 and 75 (comprising ten pieces), and the romances for female voices opp. 69 and 91
(twelve pieces). Although disturbed at times by the irregular attendance
of members in the group (particularly the men), in all Schumann found
his connection stimulating. But he still remained disheartened by the
musical life in Dresden. "Here unfortunately there is no prospect for
the performance of new works," he wrote to Hiller, "You know the
situation well. The laziness is greater than ever" (10 April 1849).
About a month after the successful first concert of the Chorverein
on 30 March, Liszt was a guest at the Schumann house. For the occasion, Schumann arranged a performance of the Piano Quintet. It was
a hurried visit by Liszt, and he seems to have behaved in his most
cavalier manner. He arrived several hours late, described the quintet as
"leipziger-isch," and criticized Mendelssohn by comparison with Meyerbeer. By "leipziger-isch," Liszt was referring to those composers (most
notably, Mendelssohn and Schumann) whom Liszt now saw as being
conservative and academicin contrast to his own music and that of
Wagner. Liszt's comments were tactless. He knew of Schumann's reverence for Mendelssohn, and he knew as well of Schumann's aversion
to Meyerbeer's music. Not surprisingly, Schumann took Liszt's remarks
as a personal affront and, according to Clara, grabbed Liszt by the shoulders saying, "Who are you to speak in such a manner about Mendelssohn!" He then abruptly left the room.
This is the version of the incident given by Clara Schumann to Jansen in 1879. The entry
in the diary (made by Clara) makes no reference to Schumann grabbing Liszt, and summarizes
additional statements made by Schumann when speaking angrily to Liszt, statements that

The Years in Dresden 229

Liszt took the incident well, realizing that his behavior had been
rude and intolerant. But the breach that had been created was never
fully closed. Privately, Schumann became critical of Liszt's music ("pepper and seasoning a la Liszt"; 30 June 1848), and in the spring of 1849,
when Liszt wrote to Schumann requesting the score of his recently
completed Faust music hoping to perform it at Weimar, Schumann's
response showed that he was still hurt by Liszt's comments. Perhaps, he
wrote, Liszt would find the music "too Leipziger-isch." But, he continued, "Seriouslyfrom you, who know so many of my compositions
I had expected something more than such a broad pronouncement on
an entire artistic life. If you look at my compositions more closely, you
would surely find diversity, for I have always endeavored to bring something new to light in each of my compositions, and not only concerning
form. And truly those of us who were together in LeipzigMendelssohn, Hiller, Bennett, and othersdid not do so badlywe could hold
our own against those in Paris, Vienna, and Berlin. ... So much for
your remarks, which were unfair and insulting. For the rest, let us forget
the eveningwords are not arrowsand the main thing is to strive
ever onwards" (31 May 1849).
Financial worries continued to be a concern for Schumann during
these years. On 19 June 1848, he wrote to his brother, Carl, requesting
a loan, giving as a reason that as a result of his continued work on
Genoveva he had been able to earn little. It must have been particularly
difficult for Schumann, since Carl himself was frequently short of funds.
Much in his life seemed only to remind Schumann of the stability and
financial independence that continued to elude him. The success of
Genoveva, he hoped, would change that. The opera was completed in
August. He then began work on two compositions, vastly different in
character. From his youth he had been a great admirer of Byron, particularly Byron's somber drama Manfred. In August, he read it to Clara
and began sketching incidental music for it. Then, in striking contrast,
he began work at the end of the month on a collection of simple, piano
pieces for children, later published as the Album for the Young (Album fur
die Jugend) op. 68. They had been conceived with Marie in mind, and
were supportive of Mendelssohn's work (see Litzmann II, pp. 12122). In the household
books, Schumann tersely referred to his "rage" (p. 462).

230 S C H U M A N N

in two weeks he completed more than three dozen short pieces. He

had great expectations for them, knowing that there was an unquestioned need for well-written and entertaining piano pieces for children,
those currently available generally being dull and simplistic. He enthusiastically sent the set to Breitkopf & Hartel for publication.
Over the years, Schumann had frequently expressed concern with
the visual presentation of his published compositions. This became particularly important for him with the Album. Among his friends in Dresden was the artist Ludwig Richter. Richter, in addition to being a
painter, was known as an illustrator for books, particularly children's
books. On 25 October, Schumann met with Richter in an attempt to
interest him in providing a title-page vignette for the Album. Richter's
charming illustration (based on the titles of a number of the individual
pieces from the Album) formed an admirable complement to the music,
and helped increase sales of the work.
Schumann's efforts on behalf of the Album had been given some
urgency by Breitkopf & Hartel's response. They had declined to publish
the work. Raymond Hartel wrote to Schumann explaining why: "The
fact is that sale of your compositions has in general shrunk considerably,
more so than you can believe. Sometime we must frankly discuss the
matter. Eleven years have now passed since we published your first
work, and since that date we have published 16 others. . . . With considerable regret I share with you the results of this venture: the firm
has lost a significant amount in the publication of your works and as
yet there is no prospect of compensation."17
Over the years, Breitkopf & Hartel had published some of Schumann's finest music, including Carnaval, the Fantasie, the First Symphony, the string quartets, and Paradise and the Peri. It would not have
been unexpected for Schumann to have reacted to Hartel's letter with
dejection and dismay. That was not the case. In the household books,
he curdy referred to Hartel's "stupid letter." And he convinced Julius
Schuberth in Hamburg to undertake the publication of the Album.
Letter of 30 September 1848 quoted in Wolfgang Boetticher, "Robert Schumann und
seine Verleger," in Musik und Verlag. Karl Votterle zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Baum and W.
Rehm (Kassel, 1968), p. 172.

2 October 1848 in HSHLT, p. 472.

The Years in Dresden 231

Rather than being discouraged, in the succeeding year Schumann composed more music than he ever had before, leading to what he referred
to as "my most fruitful year" (10 April 1849). Fruitful it was, but in
many ways it may have been a forced harvest.
During 1849, Schumann produced forty works, many falling into the
category of Hausmusik, that is, unpretentious, utilitarian works intended for home consumption. It was a way both to earn more money,
and to bring his name before the public. Works such as the Fantasiestucke
op. 73 (for clarinet, or violin, or cello with piano accompaniment), the
Adagio and Allegro op. 70 (for horn, or cello, or violin, with piano
accompaniment), and the Spanisches Liederspiel op. 74 (for one, two, and
four voices with piano accompaniment) all fall into that category. That
is not to say that compositions of this type were in some way "inferior"
in quality to Schumann's more "artistic" works. They invariably succeed
in their intentions, but were simply intended for a different audience
than the string quartets or symphonies. Income was often a major motivation for their creation.
The Album for the Young appeared in January 1849. Within months,
it became immensely popular. His payment for it (226 talers) nearly
equaled that which he had been paid for the Peri. In April, Schumann
composed as a companion to it twenty-nine songs for children, the
Song Album for the Young (Lieder-Album fur diejugend op. 79), now published without any reluctance by Breitkopf & Hartel. He received a
bountiful payment for it as well, 220 talers. That year he earned 1,275
talers for his compositions, more than four times the amount he had
earned in 1848. It was by far the most he had ever received, the previous highest amount having been 575 talers in 1844. In each succeeding year of his creative life he would exceed, sometimes substantially,
the record amount he had earned in 1849.19 For once, Schumann began
to express satisfaction with his position: "I am completely content with
the recognition which has come my way in ever greater measure" (18
September 1849); "I have never been busier or happier with my work"
(29 November 1849).
Now that Genoveva was completed, it was necessary to locate an
opera house willing to stage it. As it turned out, finding a suitable
19

1850: 1,584 talers; 1851: 1,439 talers; 1852: 1,717 talers; 1853: 1,925 talers (Ibid., p. 669).

232 S C H U M A N N

location did not prove particularly difficult. It was decided that Schumann's new opera would be performed in Leipzig, but no firm date
was decided upon. He was delighted, but in his inexperience did not
realize that complications would invariably arise, in this instance delaying the premiere for over a year. The good news concerning Genoveva,
however, was tempered by news received early in April. Schumann's
brother Carl died on the 9th. Schumann took the loss well but was
probably also sobered by the thought that he was now the only surviving member of his family.
1848 and 1849 were years of political turmoil and revolution in Europe, as attempts were made to remove the oppressive and often reactionary governments that had been in place since the fall of Napoleon
in 1815. In Saxony, the king guaranteed reform (including removal of
censorship and abolition of feudal rights), but then returned to a more
conservative stance. Discontent and unrest led to open revolt in Dresden on 3 May 1849. Streets were torn up and barricades erected. On
the 4th, the king fled the city, and a provisional government was installed. Prussian and Saxon troops began to close in on the city to restore
the monarchy. In response, a civic guard was created. When, on the
5th, the civic guard was presented with a demand of unconditional
surrender, they hurriedly attempted to bolster their force, rounding up
all able-bodied men. Patrols were sent to assemble "recruits," but when
they arrived at the Schumann residence, he was in hiding. After the
patrol left, Schumann, Clara, and Marie hurriedly fled out the back
door, and found shelter in the suburbs. The remaining Schumann children were left with servants.
The attack on the city began on the 6th and lasted for three days. It
was a one-sided struggle, and on the 9th those active in the revolt
(including Richard Wagner) fled the city as best they could. Official
totals listed nearly two hundred dead, thirty-one of whom were soldiers,
but fatalities were probably much higher among civilians. It was not
until the 7th, at three in the morning and seven months pregnant, that
Clara, accompanied by a female friend, had been able to return to their
home to get the rest of the children (it was still feared that if Schumann
accompanied them, he would be drafted into the revolutionary forces).
On the nth, the family settled in Kreischa, on the outskirts of Dresden,
and remained there in comparative safety for about a month.

The Years in Dresden 233

Despite his flight, Schumann sympathized with the revolt, particularly after viewing firsthand the gory aftermath of the attack. There had
been indiscriminate killing, and considerable damage to the city. Schumann quickly wrote a series of four marches for piano, patriotic in
nature and stirring in their fervor. They were hurriedly published as his
op. 76. "The revolutionary spirit of this year," he wrote to Julius Rietz,
"has done me good. I have never been so industrious."
Schumann continued to remain interested in locating a suitable musical position. With Wagner in exile, his post was now vacant, and
Schumann expressed interest in it, speaking with Carus to ask him to
use his influence with the king. Then, in November 1849, Schumann
received a letter from Ferdinand Hiller, asking him if he would be
interested in Hiller's position as music director in Dusseldorf. Hiller
intended to give up the post in 1850 in order to accept one in Cologne,
and, if Schumann wanted it, Hiller would recommend him as his
successor.
Schumann was surprisingly cool in his reaction. To leave Dresden
and find employment in Dusseldorf would have been welcome several
years earlier. But perhaps now that his music was enjoying more popularity, he felt he could be more selective. Schumann had heard criticism
of Dusseldorf from Mendelssohn and Rietz, both of whom had served
as music directors there prior to Hiller. In his usual mixture of frankness
and naivete, Schumann confessed to Hiller: "When you went from here
to Dusseldorf, [Rietz said] 'that he could not understand why you took
the position.' I did not tell you at the time in order not to upset you"
(19 November 1849). In his response to Hiller, Schumann raised a number of points, including the cost of living, salary, and the need for
suitable musical activities for Clara as well. He was obviously far from
enthusiastic. "Could the contract be worded," he wrote, "so that if I
were offered another position I could renounce it?"
On 10 December, Schumann received what he described as an official letter from Dusseldorf, presumably one inquiring whether he was
interested in the position. A week earlier, Schumann had written again
to Hiller with additional questions, including one that was quite odd.
Letter of 6 July 1849 in Hermann Erler, Robert Schumann's Leben. Aus seinen Briefen geschildert. 2 vols. (Berlin, 1887), II, p. 93.

234 . S C H U M A N N

He had noted in an old atlas that there was an insane asylum in Dusseldorf, and was bothered by it; he hoped the atlas was in error. In a
similar manner, during the revolt in Dresden (while living in the suburbs) Schumann had been disturbed by the proximity of the insane
asylum at Sonnenstein, which he could see out of the window in his
room. "I am obliged," Schumann wrote to Hiller, "to avoid carefully
all melancholy impressions of the kind. And if we musicians live so
often, as you know we do, on sunny heights, the sadness of reality cuts
all the deeper when it lies naked before our eyes." One can sympathize with Schumann's view. In appearance and often in management
the insane asylums of the nineteenth century resembled prisonshardly
conducive to pleasant thought. Yet, Schumann's reaction in 1849 is quite
different from that of twenty years earlier when, during his Rhine journey, he had found lodgings in Frankfurt near a church and a madhouse.
"I am uncertain," he had joked to his mother, "whether to become a
Catholic or a madman."22
Schumann delayed a decision on Dusseldorf until the spring of 1850,
still wishing in the meantime for something elsehopefully, the position in Dresden. Much of his attention was now focused on the performance in Leipzig of Genoveva. But the premiere continued to be
delayed by what appeared to be intrigues. The situation became so
serious that early in 1850 Schumann wrote to Hartel, asking if in his
opinion legal action might be necessary. When the opera was finally
scheduled for performance in February, Schumann traveled to Leipzig
to be present for the rehearsals. Once again, however, the premiere was
postponed, and, adding insult to injury, Meyerbeer's Le prophete was put
on in its stead.
Since the Schumanns had planned to be away from Dresden for six
weeks for the rehearsals and performances of Genoveva, they decided to
make use of the remaining time by undertaking a concert tour to Bremen and Hamburg, where they had been invited earlier in the year. It
was a successful trip; both the Genoveva overture and the Piano Concerto were performed, and they were delighted once again to spend
time with Jenny Lind (who kindly performed at two of their concerts,
Letter to Hiller of 3 December 1849 in Br, p. 323. Translation in Niecks, p. 253.
Letter of 24 May 1829 in JS, p. 147.

The Years in Dresden 235

assuring a sizable profit for the trip). On 29 March, they returned to
Dresden. Two days later, Schumann wrote to Dusseldorf formally accepting the position. Despite the efforts of Carus and others (including
a testimonial on his behalf signed by eighty members of the Choral
Society), Schumann had not been offered the conducting position in
Dresden.
The premiere of Genoveva had been rescheduled for June, late in the
season and hardly an advantageous time for Schumann's work to be
heard. There were three performances; the first on 25 June, was conducted by Schumann before a distinguished audience that included
Liszt, Hiller, and Kuntsch. But Genoveva was not the success that Schumann had hoped for. Probably at fault was its distinctive style, not
tuneful and simplistic enough for the majority, not "progressive"
enough for the Wagnerians.
Schumann returned to Dresden on 10 July, in a rather somber frame
of mind. He went to work setting to music six poems of Nikolaus
Lenau. While engaged in the project, he learned of Lenau's death, and
he decided to create the work as a tribute to him, publishing it with a
funereal cover. Much work remained, too, for the move to Dusseldorf.
Schumann was scheduled to assume duties there at the beginning of
September, and there was packing to be completed, and farewells to be
made to their few close friends. They left on 30 August, and arrived in
Dusseldorf three days later, stopping briefly in Leipzig on the way.
"You will never be the wife of a Kapellmeister," Schumann had
written to Clara prior to their marriage, "but in spirit we are a match
for any of them. You know what I mean."23 At that time, to Schumann
the position of Kapellmeister had resembled that of crowned, musical
mediocrity. Now, ten years later, he was about to undertake in Dusseldorf duties very much like those of a Kapellmeister. Until the end,
he had remained hesitant about accepting the post. The impression
given to Hiller was that his hesitancy was the result of the less than
ideal musical climate in Dusseldorf. But, privately, Schumann may also
have feared that he lacked the experience, temperament, and expertise
to succeed in the position.
23

Letter of 31 May 1840 in JgBr, p. 315.

C H A P T E R

1 2

Schumann's Dramatic Works

For centuries it was as if music and literature were divided by a

wall, . . . When they came into contact, they resembled Pyramus
and Thisbe, peering at and touching one another in secret through
the cracks and crevices of the stones piled up between them. Schumann was at home in both lands . . .
Franz Liszt, "Robert Schumann" (1855)

CHUMANN'S INTEREST IN AND LOVE OF LITERATURE SEEMED

naturally to lead to thoughts of opera. For much of his adult life,
he was involved with one. Not long after beginning study with Wieck
in 1830, he considered the possibility of Hamlet as an opera, but got no
farther than creating sketches for an overture. The next year found him
reading E. T. A. Hoffmann, and he was enthusiastic about the operatic
possibilities of two tales"The Mines at Falun" and "Doge and Dogaressa." But, for the remainder of the decade, as Schumann focused
first on his career as a piano virtuoso and then as a composer of music
for piano, little attention was devoted to opera. Then, in February
1840at a time when he had turned away from the piano and was
beginning to write songsonce again opera began to interest him. He
returned to the subject of Hoffmann's "Doge and Dogaressa." To Clara,
he described Hoffmann's story as "noble and natural," and, with the
aid of the writer Julius Becker, for the next few months he worked on
236

Schumann's Dramatic Works 237

producing a libretto in verse.1 The music for it, however, was not
written.
Hoffmann's tale was the first of a large number of concepts Schumann would consider for opera. It was the only significant musical
genre he had not attempted, and in his eyes, both the ultimate manner
in which firmly to establish his reputation as a composer and at the
same time to build on the reputation he had created with Paradise and
the Peri. In his quest, Schumann considered a truly astonishing array of
possibilities. From Hoffmann, he moved to Calderon, a dramatist enjoying renewed interest at the time. In July 1841, he was enthusiastic
about the prospect of several of Calderon's plays, and produced a brief
scenario for "The Bridge of Mantible." During the next six years he
considered, among others, the Nibelung myths (184247), Thomas
Moore's "The Veiled Prophet" (1843; from Lalla Rookh), the legend of
King Arthur (1845), Christopher Columbus and Shakespeare's The Tempest (1846), and Mazeppa (1847he was familiar with the versions of
Byron and Julius Slowacki). Scenarios have survived for "The Veiled
Prophet" and "Mazeppa," but no music was composed.
Although the ideas considered by Schumann vary greatly, there seem
to have been distinct characteristics that attracted his attention: elements
of mystery and the fantastic, and the heroic (often with a conspicuously
moral message). In both of the tales by Hoffmann that interested him,
there are strong elements of the supernatural. "The Mines of Falun"
relates the obsession and resulting madness of the miner Elis Frobom.
In its emphasis on fantasy and in its somber, inexorable representation
of Frobom's doom, it recalls in mood Hans Heiling (1833), a popular
opera by Heinrich Marschner. But in a purely practical manner, it
would have been nearly impossible to represent the visionary side of
the "Mines of Falun"an essential aspect of the storyon the stage.
"Doge and Dogaressa" contains as a central character a witch who can
cure illness and predict the future. But the story itself is primarily a tale
of love. While it is not difficult to detect in the two lovers' characters
the "noble" elements mentioned by Schumann, it is more of a challenge
to discover the "natural" aspects that attracted him to the tale. Reunited
after years of separation, the lovers ultimately perish in rapture during
Letter to Clara of 13 March 1840 in JgBr, p. 310.

238 S C H U M A N N

a storm at seaa conclusion Schumann felt obliged to alter in his scenario by providing a happier ending.
Of the many operatic possibilities contemplated by Schumann during
these years, music was created for only one: The Corsair. Byron's poem
served as the basis for Schumann's libretto. There is little plot; rather,
the focus is on the personality of a typical Byronic hero: the pirate
Conrad. The sketchy dramatic outlineConrad is captured by the Pacha Seyd, and rescued by a Leonore-like heroinewould have required
much filling-in by Schumann. He worked on the project in June and
July 1844 (approaching the dramatist Oswald Marbach for assistance),
but there exist only twenty pages of score, comprising a chorus and the
beginning of an aria. While working on "Doge and Dogaressa" Schumann had noted to Clara the difficulties he was having with it, and
complained of the absence of "a deep, German element" in the story.
That may have been a reason for his abandonment of The Corsair. The
exotic locales of each storyVenice and the Middle East, respectively
contributed not a little to their popularity among readers, but Schumann seemed more interested in creating an opera nationalistic in basis.
"Do you know my daily prayer as an artist?" he confided to Carl Kossmaly. "It is German opera" (1 September 1842).
Schumann's idea was not a novel one. There was at the time in
Germany a deliberate effort being made to establish in the arts a truly
distinctive artistic style, one that could be identified as uniquely
German. The initial summons for the movement had been made at the
turn of the century by the writer Heinrich Wackenroder who, using
the work of Albrecht Durer as an example, called on German artists to
resist foreign influences and to turn inward for motivation. To many,
the writings of Wackenroder proved inspiring, but while in literature
and the visual arts the idea of a German Art took hold and expanded,
in opera, foreign products seemed to rule the stage. What undoubtedly
provided impetus to Schumann's desire was the overwhelming popularity in Germany of Italian opera and the operas of Meyerbeer, both
of which he strongly disliked.
There had been some effort made to advance German opera. Among
German composers then living, Spohr had been the most successful.
Letter of 4 May 1840 in Ibid., p. 312.

Schumann's Dramatic Works 239

But his two most popular worksFaust and jessondawere more than
twenty years old and hardly in the musical style admired by Schumann.
Most other composers of German opera relied heavily on foreign models (especially opera-comique). During the 1840s, Wagners reputation
was growing, but Schumann did not hold him in high regard. In 1843,
he briefly studied the score of The Flying Dutchman, and two years later
attended a performance of Rienzi, but without pleasure. Of contemporary German composers of opera, Schumann most admired Marschner, particularly his Templar und die Juden (1829). But Marschner's
Templar had as its basis not a German story but Scott's Ivanhoe. Since
the untimely death of Weber in 1826, in Schumann's eyes the field had
lain comparatively free. "Compose truly original, simple, deep, German
operas," Schumann wrote in the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik in 1842, advice intended as much for himself as for other composers.3
It was Schumann's determination to create not just opera but
German opera that probably led him to serious consideration of other
texts. At the time of working on The Corsair, he was also involved in
an adaptation of Immermann's Till Eulenspiegel. Two years later, Immermann's Tristan spurred further effort. But both projects resulted in
scenarios only. Given Schumann's inclination, it seemed inevitable for
him to turn his attention to Goethe. Wilhelm Meister and Hermann and
Dorothea attracted his notice in 1844 and 184547, respectively (at one
point Schumann noted that he was reading Meister for the third time).
But it was Faust that held the greatest promise to him.
"I would now like soon to get to work on an opera," Schumann
noted on 23 January 1844. Two days later he left with Clara on their
concert tour of Russia. During the journey he read Faust, Part II, and
began to think of possible musical settings. While in Dorpat, he began
musical sketches for it. It is quite possible that initially Schumann
thought of Faust (Parts I and II) in operatic terms. But it seems that he
soon determined that the expansiveness of the subject was unsuitable
for opera. In addition, his admiration for Goethe's text was so great that
there was no possibility in his mind of patching together a libretto from
it. Instead, he began work that summer on setting to music excerpts
from Faust, creating an oratorio of sorts. It was the beginning of a
Review of Reissiger's Adele de Foix in GS II, p. 94.

240 S C H U M A N N

project that would occupy him intermittently for nearly a decade.

Eventually, he divided his settings into three sections, preceded by an
overture.
In June and Julywhile still working on Till and The Corsair
Schumann composed more of Faust. His breakdown and continued ill
health that autumn precluded concentrated effort, but at the end of
December he noted completion of the project. What was actually finished was a large part of what was to be the third section, "Faust's
Transfiguration." Of the seven numbers comprising it, five had been
composed. The concluding piece (the "Chorus Mysticus" in two different settings) was composed from May to July 1847, and the fourth
(the chorus "Gerettet ist das edle Glied" ["Saved is the noble part"])
was completed in May and June of the following year. In July and
August 1849, Schumann returned to his work on Faust creating all of
the first section (the "Garden Scene," "Gretchen before the Image of
the Mater Dolorosa," and the "Scene in the Cathedral"), as well as the
first scene of the second section ("Ariel: Sunrise"). The remaining two
scenes of the second section ("Midnight" and "Faust's Death") were
created in April and May 1850. The last part of the work to be composed was the overture (August 1853).
Schumann's Scenes from Goethe's Faust is not an opera: there is no
recognizable dramatic flow, and a staging of the work would make little
sense. But neither is it an oratorio in the conventional manner. What
Schumann produced were musical settings of excerpts from Faust, settings that assume the listener's familiarity with Goethe's two Faust dramas. The bulk of Schumann's selections were from Faust, Part II (only
the first section uses material from Faust, Part I). That in itself was a
curious approach. The first part of Goethe's Faust is better known,
relating in general terms Faust's pact "with the devil and love for
Gretchen. The second part is far more unconventional with little distinct plot, presenting instead an often deeply symbolic and mystical
representation of Faust's death and redemption. Faust, Part II was by no
means broadly admired in Schumann's time, and, like Beethoven's late
string quartets, there were many who found it to be disappointing and
incomprehensible.
Schumann's selections from Faust make clear both his intentions for
the work and his deeply personal understanding of the drama. He re-

Schumann's Dramatic Works 241

frained from setting in both parts songs or ballads, and avoided all scenes
that seemed naturally to call for musical accompanimentsuch as, in
Part I, the invocation of spirits. Schumann seemed determined to make
clear that he was not attempting to compose incidental music for the
play. From Part I he selected an episode depicting the avowal of love
between Faust and Gretchen (the "Garden Scene"), and two representations of Gretchen's remorse and guilt over her affair with Faust. As a
transition to his other settings, he began his second section with the
opening scene of Part II, presenting a renewed and refreshed Faust. He
then skipped to the conclusion of Goethe's drama: the fifth, sixth, and
seventh scenes (with numerous cuts). The fifth scene recounts Faust's
demise. The final two scenes are more spiritual and serene, representing
the preservation of Faust's soul. Schumann's selections emphasize neither
the dramatic intensity nor melodrama in Goethe's play, but are psychological in basis and focus on the inner natures of Faust and Gretchen,
culminating in their redemption.
Schumann's admiration for Goethe was extraordinary. He owned the
forty-volume edition of Goethe's works issued from 1827 to 1830, as
well as the twenty-volume set of the Nachgelassenen Werke (1832-33,
1842). "Above all, he is a poet," Schumann wrote to Claraa simple
statement, but perhaps the highest compliment he could have made (11
February 1838). Yet the esteem that Schumann felt for Goethe led to
some trepidation. "I often feared the reproach: 'Why music for such
perfect poetry?'," he confessed to Brendel ([5] July 1848). His apprehension continued even after most of the music for the project had
been completed. Prior to creating the overture, he remained hesitant,
and told Wasielewski of the "gigantic elements" that would need to be
part of it.4
The first complete performance of Schumann's Faust was presented
in 1862 in Cologne under the direction of Ferdinand Hiller, six years
after Schumann's death. But performances of the third section were
given in August 1849 in Dresden, Leipzig, and Weimar as part of the
centenary of Goethe's birth, and were well received. That they were is
somewhat surprising, for Schumann's work made no concessions to
public taste. The music is not particularly tuneful, but then the public
W, p. 440.

242 S C H U M A N N

may not have expected such an approach with the at times austere
drama created by Goethe. Much of the work uses the declamatory
melodic style employed in Paradise and the Peri. There are no arias for
Faust or Gretchen in the grand manner.
Schumann's Faust is a Faust for connoisseurs. There are subtle touches
generally focusing on psychological representation, such as the disjunct,
pulsating violas used to represent the gnawing remorse and pain experienced by Gretchen in the Mater Dolorosa scene. An eerie solo trumpet with rhythmic contrast in the woodwinds complements the
grotesque appearance of the lemurs (it was Schumann's preference that
the part be sung by boys), culminating in Faust's death. Instances such
as these should help to put to rest perceptions of Schumann's supposedly
awkward handling of the orchestra. Because of the lack of contrast
particularly in the third section, where there is a reliance on the chorusSchumann's work requires an unusual amount of concentration
from the listener. Had he selected passages from Goethe's text less abstruse and more popular in style, greater variety would have been possible. But it is clear that Schumann's intention was to create a work in
which the music attempts to accompany and, ultimately, elucidate the
most spiritual elements of Goethe's text.
The long-drawn-out "work on Faust took its toll. "I thought I would
never be finished," he told Carl Reinecke after finishing what would
become the third section (30 June 1848). Yet, while engaged on Faust,
the desire to create an opera was ever present, and Schumann still continued to consider possible librettos. The very summer when he first
started work on Faust was the time of his most intense activity with
The Corsair.
It was Schumann's policy when attempting to create a libretto to
seek the assistance of a collaborator. He was eager to gain the expertise
of writers who had experience, if not in writing opera libretti, then in
creating works for the stage. The writer most often associated with
Schumann's opera projects was Robert Reinick. Reinick, who was five
years older than Schumann, was both a writer and an artist. In 1840,
Schumann had set six of his poems to music, published in 1842 as Aus
dem Liederbuch eines Malers (From A Painter's Songbook) op. 36. Reinick
had collaborated recently with Ferdinand Hiller on his opera Conradin.
By the spring of 1847, it appears that an opera based on Mazeppa

Schumann's Dramatic Works 243

was foremost in Schumann's mind. But there had also been discussions
with Reinick about the possibility of creating an opera with the legend
of Genoveva as its basis. Genoveva, the wife of Count Palatine Siegfried
of Brabant, lived during the eighth century. Falsely accused of marital
infidelity by a trusted friend of the count (whose advances she had
rebuffed), she was sentenced to death. But those chosen to take her life
spared her, and left her deep in the forests of the Ardennes. She lived
there for six years, forgotten. During this time she gave birth to Siegfried's son, the child being nourished by the milk of a doe that she had
befriended. Siegfried eventually learns of his wife's innocence. All concludes happily when during a hunt he accidentally comes upon her and
his son, and restores them both to their rightful positions.
The Genoveva legend was well known in nineteenth-century Germany. There was a fascination at the time with the Middle Ages in
general, and the combination of pious simplicity and the miraculous
contained in the tale seemed to many to make it an ideal and charming
representation of the age. The most famous nineteenth-century setting
of the legend was the drama by Ludwig Tieck, Leben und Tod der heiligen
Genoveva (1800; an unsuccessful ballet with Tieck as its source had been
produced with music by Louis Huth in 1838). Reinick produced two
sketches for Schumann based on Tieck's work. He made no use of
another interesting setting (although it might have proved useful): Maler
Miiller's Golo und Genovefa (1808). Then, on i April 1847, Schumann
read Friedrich Hebbel's play Genoveva. It had been published four years
earlier but had yet to be staged. The next day Schumann wrote to
Reinick, bringing the work to his attention. Inspired by Hebbel's
drama, within a week Schumann had sketched an overture and, after
consultation with Reinick, had completed a draft scenario for an opera.
After years of searching, he had come across a work that he felt was ideally suited for opera, and he lost no time in plunging into work on it.
Throughout April and May, the adaptation of the drama into a libretto continued. But disappointed by Reinick's contributionsSchumann later characterized him as "a good fellow, but terribly
sentimental" ([beginning of July 1847])Schumann soon decided that
he would make better progress on his own. Although he continued
sporadically to consult with Reinick, within a short period of time
frustration set in and on 14 May he wrote directly to Hebbel, whom

244 . S C H U M A N N

he did not know, asking if he would help arrange his drama for the
musical stage. At that point Schumann had completed two acts, but felt
that the libretto lacked "strength"; Hebbel was asked to provide assistance, but nothing extensive, "merely here and there" (14 May 1847).
Schumann's confidence in Hebbel's ability was misguided, for he had
no experience in creating operas. But he responded to Schumann's request with interest.
They met at Schumann's home on 27 July, their only meeting. Despite Schumann's high hopes, Hebbel was put off by what he perceived
as Schumann's unpleasantly quiet and reserved nature. Progress on the
libretto proceeded at a tedious pace. By November, Reinick's good
nature had been exhausted. He informed Hiller that he had gone
through the text twice, but it had been reworked so often that his own
work was now unrecognizable. When completed, the libretto was almost entirely Schumann's; by his reckoning, only about two hundred
lines of Reinick's work remained.
That Schumann was frustrated by the slow progress on the text is
not surprising. The legend itself posed a significant obstacle. It is essentially in two parts. The first part tells of the accusation made against
Genoveva, the basis for it, and her punishment. The second part represents the many years spent by her in the forest, her miraculous survival, the birth of her son, and fortuitous discovery by Siegfried. Both
parts are lengthy and would need to be abridged for the stage. But,
because of the passage of time, both are also independent of one another. Schumann needed to adapt each part in order to create a whole,
one in which the dramatic flow appeared natural and unimpeded. But
there was yet another complication: despite his clear preference for
Hebbel's Genoveva, while creating the libretto Schumann used Tieck's
version as well. This created an additional problem, for Schumann was
attempting an amalgamation of what were in effect two strongly contrasting versions of the legend.
Tieck's drama is panoramic in scope. His intention was to create a
pseudomedieval epic, and for that reason there is more emphasis on
images and action, and less on character development. Much of the
dialogue appears artificial and somewhat stilted. Hebbel's Genoveva was
written, as the author frankly admitted, in opposition to Tieck's setting.
It is far more of a psychological drama, his primary concern being not

Schumann's Dramatic Works 245

the re-creation of the Middle Ages, but to bring to life both the characters in the play and their motivations. The central figure of Hebbel's
drama is not Genoveva, but Golo, the trusted confidante of Genoveva's
husband, Siegfried. It is Golo's passion for her, and Genoveva's determined rejection of it, that leads Golo to plot her downfall. Golo has
an identical role in Tieck's version, but is far less prominent.
The legend of Genoveva had served as inspiration for a number of
paintings and engravingsperhaps most notably by Schumann's friend
Ludwig Richter. While composing the music for Genoveva, Schumann
placed in his workroom images of her, the better, so he believed, to
create the proper mood for the work. A special sketchbook 188 pages
in length was used, consisting for the most part of a piano/vocal arrangement, although there are instances of voice alone. Each of the four
acts was finished in order during 1848, the dates of completion (fully
orchestrated) being 23 January, 30 March, 13 June, and 21 July. Schumann then devoted his attention to securing a performance. Dresden
was the nearest location, and known for its production of opera. But
the most likely possibility remained Leipzig, where Schumann was more
highly esteemed and where there were friends who could work on his
behalf. There appears to have been little difficulty in having the work
accepted for performance there, and he was hopeful of having it performed early in 1849.
The premiere was eventually scheduled for February 1850, but when
Schumann arrived in Leipzig to attend rehearsals he learned that Genoveva had been postponed in favor of performances of Meyerbeer's Le
prophete. The director of the theater told Schumann of the necessity at
that time of staging a popular spectacle. Although an effort was made
to appease Schumann with "better terms" (presumably, financial), he
was angered, irritated, and no doubt insulted by the preference given
to a composer whose works he disliked.5 The premiere of Genoveva
was rescheduled for June. Not only was Schumann exasperated by the
delay, he was concerned about the choice of date. The regular musical
season was over, and to many the performance of Genoveva must have
seemed an appendix to it, certainly not a highlight of it. The premiere
Letter of Clara to Emilie List of 6 May 1850 in Clara Schumann, "Das Band der ewigen
Liebe." Briefwechsel mil Emile und Elise List, ed. Eugen Wendler (Stuttgart, 1996), p. 162.

246 S C H U M A N N

occurred on the 25th (conducted by Schumann), with additional performances on the 28th and 30th (the final performance was conducted
by Julius Rietz). Despite Schumann's high expectations, Genoveva was
not warmly received. At best, it was a succes d'estime, a point that in
time Schumann himself was obliged to acknowledge. Although the
work was performed more than thirty times during the last quarter of
the century, it never established itself as part of the repertory.
The reasons for the failure of Genoveva are complex. Traditionally,
the blame has been placed on the libretto. But the problem lay more
in the goals that Schumann had set for himself while creating the work.
He thought of his Genoveva as not at all like the "old sentimental"
versions (6 November 1849), best represented in Schumann's eyes by
that of Tieck. Rather, it was strongly dramatic, with characters of flesh
and blood. "To approach closely nature and truth: that was always my
aim," Schumann wrote to Spohr on 27 August 1850. It was for that
reason that Schumann had felt strongly attracted to Hebbel's version.
This was not the "old sentimental" Genoveva, but one completely new,
and one represented in modern garbHebbel's setting is not the Middle Ages, but a fictional and subjective one ("The Poetic Age").
Yet, despite the differences between the versions of Hebbel and
Tieck, Schumann persisted in drawing upon both sources for his libretto. As a result, many of the characters in Schumann's text lack the
vibrancy and spirit found in Hebbel. Siegfried awakens little understanding or sympathy; his actions seem hasty and confused. Golo no
longer is the central figure intended by Hebbel. Rather, as in Tieck, it
is Genoveva, and Schumann seemed determined to represent her nobility and virtue at the expense of whatever human frailty she may have
possessed. She appears strong and determined, but stiff and onedimensional. In addition, Schumann was unable to resolve successfully
the dichotomy created by the two distinct episodes comprising the legend. The second portion of the legendGenoveva's lengthy stay in the
woods and birth of her childhas been largely eliminated. Instead, in
a melodramatic touch, Siegfried soon learns of Genoveva's innocence
and is led to herresulting in precisely the sentimental effect that Schumann was anxious to avoid.
Given his admitted goals of depicting "nature and truth," perhaps
the most disconcerting element in the libretto is the introduction of the

Schumann's Dramatic Works 247

supernatural. In order to convince Siegfried of his wife's infidelity, a
witch in league with Golo produces a magic mirror that enables Siegfried to view Genoveva's supposed infidelity. Schumann's witch (Margaretha) appears in both Tieck's and Hebbel's versions, although in his
adaptation Schumann has combined several characters into one by making her Golo's wetnurse (Golo is of unknown parentage) and ardent
supporter. In what is intended to be a predominantly realistic drama of
passion, virtue, and justice, her elaborate magical arts appear incongruous. Yet this fantastical element is undoubtedly one that had particular
appeal to Schumanna similar character appears in Hoffmann's "Doge
and Dogaressa." Still, rather than faulting Schumann, the episode seems
more a confirmation of the nineteenth century's love for such devices.
In Tieck's drama, it seems more at home, but even Hebbel was unable
to resist including it in his predominantly naturalistic setting.
Despite Schumann's mixture of elements from Tieck and Hebbel,
his libretto remains one concerned with character development. The
wickedness of Margaretha, the battle between good and evil within
Golo, the nobility and sense of outrage of Genovevaall are present
in the text to a varying degree. What is often lacking is an effective
counterpart in the music. That is not to say that drama within the music
is lacking. Perhaps the most startling moment in the opera occurs during
the sexual confrontation between Golo and Genoveva when, losing all
control of himself, Golo ignores Genoveva's remonstrances and advances threateningly toward her. Genoveva hurls his illegitimate parentage at him"Back, back, dishonorable bastard!"a scene that has
lost none of its ability to shock. Schumann set the text with stark orchestral accompaniment. With great effect, Golo's response to Genoveva's insult is not the violent outburst of anger that might be expected,
but a curse uttered pianissimo with unison strings, tortuously chromatic
(Ex.12.1). But while Schumann does show himself more than able to
create music that ably complements moments of dramatic intensitya
characteristic present, after all, in his lieder as wellhe is unsuccessful
in creating music that sustains character development. Margaretha, the
most unredeemingly evil character in the tale, never appears dark or
menacing. The music Schumann created for her more often seems lively
and sprightly, never wicked or diabolicalan effect created at least in
part by the bright woodwind instrumentation associated with her.

Ex. 12.1
Etwas langsamer ( = 80)

Ex. 12.1 continued

250

SCHUMANN

The inability consistently to infuse life into his characters is obviously

a flaw of great import in an opera intended to be predominantly psychological in nature. But Schumann was far more successful in meeting
other goals he had set for himself. As intended, Genoveva is a German
opera, both in text and music. Genoveva is, as Siegfried at one point
reminds her, "a German woman"and it is her German nature that is
presented as the source of her strength and much of her nobility. This
was not an element that Schumann needed to add to his libretto. It is
found in both Tieck and Hebbel, though interestingly, in Hebbel's version it is Genoveva herself who makes a point of noting her German
heritage with pride. In his music Schumann instilled what he no doubt
perceived as a distinctly German character by his use of a chorale-like
melody (Ex.12.2), both at the very beginning and near the conclusion
of the opera.
But what is perhaps most striking about Schumann's music for Genoveva is not its "German-ness," but its progressive tendencies.
To Schumann it remained essential that the dramatic action in the
libretto move naturally. If it were to do so, that necessitated in SchuEX.

12.2

The chorale is not "Ermuntre dich rnein schwacher Geist"a claim that seems to have
been first put forth by Hermann Abert in 1910although the opening of Schumann's "chorale" does bear a resemblance to it.

Schumann's Dramatic Works 251

mann's eyes a break with tradition, for it would not be possible to have
the drama interrupted by unnecessary occasions for vocal display or
fragmented into sections of aria and recitative. Schumann had followed
a similar approach in Paradise and the Peri and in those scenes thus far
completed from Faust. Genoveva contains twenty-one set numbers, but
they are individual musical sections in name only. For the most part,
the opera exhibits few seams. As had been the case in the past, Schumann relies on a distinctive form of arioso in lieu of conventional operatic melody. Even those parts of Genoveva referred to in the score as
arias disdain operatic display, avoid tunefulness, and depart from fourbar symmetrical phrasing (with their expected cadential structure). Genoveva s "aria" (No. 11 Act 2) is a representative example. It commences
with two symmetrical and tuneful four-bar phrasesan opening that
audiences easily could have followedbut then the declamatory, ariosolike style preferred by Schumann enters. It is a musical style that
ideally complements the text, but that many could only have found
disconcerting.
Because less emphasis has been placed on traditional vocal melody,
the orchestra has been increased in prominence. Frequently it supplies
the tunefulness, in contrast to the strictly declamatory vocal lines. Schumann employs as well a musical device that has come to be associated
with Wagnerthe leitmotive. This was, of course, not an invention on
Wagner's part. It is used with considerable effect, for example, by Weber
in Euryanthe (1823), a work greatly admired by Schumann.7 Schumann's
use of the leitmotive is subtle. Most recognizable is the motive associated with Margaretha (at least in part because of its distinctive orchestration). It is based on a motive previously heard in the opera, and
identified with Goloa means by which Schumann emphasizes the
association between the pair. But even more subtle is the psychological
association created by Schumann with it, for the theme itself is a transformation of the chorale that appears at the beginning of the opera
(Exx. 12.3, 12.4).
Schumann did make several concessions to public taste, such as the
In Schumann's diary, he notes hearing the overture and excerpts from Euryanthe in January
and February 1829 (Tgb I, pp. 168, 172). He saw the work on 23 September 1847, and
expressed his admiration for it (HSHLT, p. 440). In addition to musical similarities, there are
strong resemblances in plot between Euryanthe and Genoveva.

252 S C H U M A N N

Ex. 12.3
Sehr lebhaft

lively choral march "Auf, auf in das Feld" (No. 5) and the lied "Bald
blick' ich dich wieder" (No. 14), but there are few attempts to introduce the type of tunefulness welcomed by listeners of Schumann's day.
Contemporary audiences found a great deal of the music austere and
demanding, and critical reaction revealed that much of Schumann's efforts had been misunderstood. "The aria and recitative," noted one
review, "blend into one another, only increasing the dreary monotony

Schumann's Dramatic Works 253

Ex. 12.4 continued

of this ostensibly new operatic style." On the other hand, the Deutsche
allgemeine Zeitung in Leipzig wrote that, with Genoveva, Schumann
"along with Mendelssohn stood on the edge of a new musical classicism."9 How can these two criticisms be reconciled? Schumann had
displayed in Genoveva not an "ostensibly new operatic style"it truly
was a new operatic style, having much in common with that being
developed by Wagner. But it is difficult to imagine Mendelssohn
being in sympathy with the approach adopted by Schumann. In fact,
Mendelssohn had even considered and ruled out the subject of Genoveva as suitable for opera noting, with perhaps more discernment than
Schumann, that it was flawed as a result of the "passiveness" of the
8

From the Dusseldorfer Journal (14 July 1850) quoted in Reinhold Sietz, "Zur Textgestaltung
von Robert Schumanns 'Genoveva',' Die Musikforschung XXIII (1970), p. 410.
Eismann, p. 167.

254 ' S C H U M A N N

heroine.10 Schumann could have avoided the confusion over Genoveva

if he had from the start made a point of making clear how different the
music was. That in itself might have ensured a warmer reception for
it. But Schumann lacked the gift for publicity possessed by Wagner, and
as a result Genoveva perplexed not just his contemporaries but has continued to perplex audiences to this day.
Schumann lost no time after the completion of Genoveva in beginning a new dramatic project. Several weeks after finishing the score, he
began work on a setting of excerpts from Byron's Manfred, adopting an
approach recalling the one taken with Faust. Schumann had been familiar with Manfred since his youththe diary notes that he had read
it, perhaps for the first time, on 26 March 1829. Nearly twenty years
later, he returned to it: "ManfredInspirationSketches."11 He
worked on Manfred in October and November, creating first an overture for the drama, then composing incidental music for selected portions. Orchestration was not finished until 23 November but, in fact,
much of the work had been done quickly. Schumann noted with pride
that the music for Act 1 had been sketched in only a day.
The reason for Schumann's rapid pace can be found in the intense
interest he felt for the drama itself. More than one contemporary noted
that in his passionate readings of the drama to family and friends Schumann appeared to identify with Manfred. Wasielewski was present on
one occasion when Schumann was so deeply moved that tears came to
his eyes, and he was unable to continue. Byron's play was published in
1817, one of several he intended more to be read than performed. It
has similarities to the Faust legend, although Byron had not read Marlowe's version and was only slightly familiar with Goethe's (Part I only
had thus far appeared in print).
Faust and Manfred represent much of what is most noble and most
debased in the human spirit. But, unlike Faust, Manfred is burdened
by guilt, satiated with life, and seeks death in the hope of blotting out
an unnamed sin in his past. The cause of his guilt is never stated, but
Byron does make clear that it concerns Manfred's deceased love, Astarte.
Letter to Charlotte (not Charles) Birch-Pfeiffer of 10 December 1841 quoted in Sietz,
p. 410. Birch-PfeifFer supplied Mendelssohn with a scenario for the project, intended for
Jenny Lind.
"Entry of 29 July 1848 in HSHLT, p. 466.

Schumann's Dramatic Works 255

Manfred summons her spirit and tells her that "it were the deadliest sin
to have loved as we have loved" (II, iv)a line, incidentally, set with
emphasis by Schumann in his version. Later a servant remarks: "The
only thing [Manfred] seemed to love,As he, indeed, by blood was
bound to do, [was] the Lady Astarte, his," at which point the servant
is interrupted, leaving the sentence incomplete. It is commonly believed
that Byron through the character of Manfred portrayed himself and his
sexual liaison with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh. The "deadliest sin,"
then, would have been incest, and it is for that reason that Manfred,
overwhelmed by remorse, is eager to die.
Schumann's music for Manfred is little known, yet among his most
successful. It is a pity that Byron's drama does not lend itself well to
performance. The overture Schumann created for it remains the best
known of the Manfred music, but there are fifteen other pieces, including music for the entr'acte. Much of it is keenly evocative, and provides
an effective counterpart to Byron's text. Schumann described his work
to Liszt as new and differenta comment that seems to refer both to
the extensive amount of music created for the project and the intimate
liaison between text and music. There is, however, a clear distinction
between these settings and those made for Goethe's Faust. For Manfred,
Schumann made use of all possible means of musical accompaniment
for the drama; the musical selections for Manfred provide incidental
music in the strictest sense and were intended to be performed as accompaniment for presentations of the drama in its entirety.
In his Manfred settings, Schumann frequently made use of melodramathat is, spoken word with musical accompaniment. It was an
unusual musical device. Weber's use of it in Der Freischutz (1821) was
probably the most celebrated instance. But despite the criticism of it as
a bastardized genre, a number of Schumann's contemporaries (including
Marschner and Liszt) displayed interest in it. Schumann's use of melodrama in Manfred often creates a particularly convincing complement
to the dramatic action, and an unobtrusive and natural enhancement to
the spoken word.
In Byron's drama, Manfred dies fearless and unrepentant, defiantly
spurning the opportunity to die as a Christiana scene in many ways
recalling the death of Mozart's Don Giovanni. It was an ending that
Schumann was incapable of retaining. As Manfred dies, Schumann

256 S C H U M A N N

added a chorus chanting a requiem for him, providing hope for redemption. Schumann's alteration to Byron's play is a sentimental touch
Byron would have abhorred. But it emphasized Schumann's own hopes
and sense of compassion.
Related to Manfred is Schumann's Requiem fur Mignon op. 98b. It is
a setting of an extended excerpt from Goethe's novel Wilhelm Meister's
Apprenticeship. Schumann composed it in July 1849, and included with
it, when published, nine solo songs from the novel (published as op.
p8a). The requiem is a short work (about a quarter of an hour in length)
for orchestra, chorus, and soloists. The text selected by Schumannin
itself an unusual choicedepicts the elaborate ceremony associated with
the burial of perhaps the most remarkable character in Goethe's novel.
Mignon, a child traveling against her will with a group of carnival-like
entertainers, is rescued by Wilhelm Meister when he sees the manager
of the troupe abusing her. She devotes herself blindly to him, and becomes jealous when any other female displays interest in him. She eventually dies, overwhelmed by despair, when a woman confesses her love
to Meister in Mignon's presence. Throughout the novel, Mignon behaves in a mysterious and often inexplicable manner. The greatest mystery about her, however, concerns her origin. Only near the end of
the work is it revealed that she is the result of an incestuous union.
Schumann was profoundly taken with the character of Mignon. He
was attracted by her childlike innocence, but he was also moved by the
sorrow of her existence. As had been the case with Manfred, Schumann
seemed eager to represent by means of the requiem a tortured soul
finding peaceonce again, with incest as the basis. His setting is poignant and bittersweet (an interesting change in performance would be to
replace the soprano soloists with boy sopranos, as called for in Goethe's
text). Related in mood is the guilt-laden song of the Harper, Mignon's
father: "Wer nie sein Brot mit Tranen ass" ("Who never ate his bread
with tears"). Schumann's setting, chromatic and deeply expressive, is
included in op. 98a.
After the rather cool reception accorded Genoveva, Schumann
seemed to become less enthusiastic about writing opera. In May 1850
prior to the performances of Genovevahe had contemplated an opera
based on Romeo and Juliet. But no music for it was created, and after
1850 surprisingly few references to possible operas are found in his cor-

Schumann's Dramatic Works 257

respondence or household books. Rather than working on opera,
Schumann directed his efforts toward oratorio and choral music of a
dramatic nature.
Early in 1851, Schumann entered into correspondence with the
writer Richard Pohl concerning the possibility of creating an oratorio
based on the life of Martin Luther, broad in its appeal, and suitable for
performance in both church and concert hall. Pohl's concept of the
project became increasingly grandiose: he envisioned it as a Reformation trilogy, an approach that Schumann did not support. They met in
September to discuss the work, but, except for a draft scenario, nothing
came of it. Although he continued to mention the idea as late as December 1852, Schumann's duties in Dusseldorf and the erratic state of
his health precluded work on it.13
Instead, Schumann's dramatic instincts during these years primarily
found their expression in a series of ballads for chorus and orchestra:
The King's Son op. 116 (1851), The Minstrel's Curse op. 139 (1852), The
Princess and the Page op. 140 (1852), and The Luck of Edenhall op. 143
(1853). The idea of creating a series of short choral ballads with orchestral accompanimenttheir average length is less than a half hour
was new. Probably the closest in concept had been Niels Gade's Comala
(1846)a work (based on Ossian) that Schumann knew well and that
was a mixture of oratorio and opera approximately an hour in length.
In Schumann's choral ballads, soloists were involved, so it permitted
him to write a kind of opera in miniature, but without having to deal
with the expense and complications of a large-scale dramatic work.
There would be more of a demand as well for these comparatively
modest works, both by choral societies and by the numerous choral
festivals. Schumann's approach was to select as the basis for the work a
well-known and popular ballad, which then was adapted into sections
appropriate for a musical setting.
The major weakness of the choral ballads is the lack of variety in
them. To a certain extent, that may have been a result of the texts
A two-page scenario for Romeo and Juliet exists. Schumann also expressed interest in Kleist's
Michael Kohlhaas (27 August 1852), and a fairy opera (Der Rittennond; spring of 1853).
Schumann provided three sketches for the project (seven pages long); Pohl provided two
(a total of ten pages).

258 S C H U M A N N

themselvesall are fairly gloomy in subject matter; only The King's Son
has what might be termed a "happy ending." In that sense, they seem
to reflect Schumann's own feelings during these years. Still, there is
nothing about these works to merit the neglect they have suffered over
the years, other than the fact that they fall into a genre for which today
there is little demand. Of the four, The Princess and the Page is comparatively light, and the most popular in style. The others continue the
manner of Genoveva, relying heavily on a declamatory arioso. The emphasis is clearly on the dramatic structure of the narrativea notable
exception being The King's Son, where the episodic nature of the tale
requires a more fragmented representation. As in Genoveva, Schumann
was particularly attracted to the psychological aspects of the characters
in the balladsand in that respect (especially in The Minstrel's Curse) he
is now more successful. Perhaps Schumann thought of these in their
way as operatic studies. But even if that were not the case, they provided him with the opportunity further to refine his musical dramatic
skills.

C H A P T E R

1 3

The Years in Dusseldorf

You know what musical life is like in a small German cityGod

help us!
Mendelssohn on Dusseldorf

HE ARRIVAL OF THE SCHUMANNS IN DUSSELDORF ON THE

evening of 2 September 1850 could not have been more auspicious. They were greeted by Ferdinand Hiller and a committee from
the city, and escorted to the Hotel Breidenbachthe city's finest hotelwhere they found rooms awaiting them decorated with flowers.
Later in the evening they were serenaded by Dusseldorf's Choralverein.
It was the start of festivities in their honor. On the 7th, as he attended
a concert consisting solely of his own works, Schumann was greeted
by a flourish of trumpets when he entered the hall. Every effort was
made not just to make the Schumanns feel welcome, but to make clear
to them they were honored and distinguished guests.
Schumann's employer was the city, represented by the Burgomeister
and a music committee. The duties associated with his new position
were numerous. He was to direct both the choral society and the orchestra, producing ten concerts as part of an annual series. In addition,
he was required each year to direct four programs of music for the
Maximilian and Lambertus churches. It was also expected that he would

259

26O S C H U M A N N

assume an active role in the annual Nieder-Rheinische Music Festival,

a large festival that combined the resources of several Rhenish cities.
Rehearsals of both the vocal and instrumental ensembles were held
weekly. Initially, Schumann was apprehensive and concerned about the
level of musical ability. He determined it was essential to have a strong
leader within the orchestra, and hired as concertmaster a young violinist
and former student at the Leipzig Conservatory, his future biographer
Wilhelm von Wasielewski. Schumann had similar concerns with the
choral group, comprised mostly of amateurs. It appears that from the
beginning Clara went with her husband to the vocal rehearsals, where
she served as piano accompanist and provided moral support. Schumann
had done the same with the choral groups he had directed in Dresden,
and decided to continue the practice.
The first concert on 24 September was an unqualified success. The
audience was appreciative and enthusiastic, and Schumann expressed his
satisfaction both with the concert and the musical life in Dusseldorf in
general. He had entered into his duties expecting the worst, but now
felt "extremely pleased and surprised," both by the musical ability of
the groups and by the public "which only desires good music and loves
it" (20 September 1850). He was in an expansive frame of mind, and
in January wrote to Sterndale Bennett expressing interest in traveling
to England. Clara had for years longed to perform there, and Schumann
hoped his Paradise and the Peri would be well received. Now that he
was living considerably closer to England and established in his new
position, the trip seemed more of a possibility than it ever had, and the
idea persisted until the summer. Clara, too, was finding benefits to the
musical life in Dusseldorf, both in performing and in an increasing
number of private students. It seemed that after years of struggle, they
had found happiness and stability. On 1 December 1851, their seventh
child, Eugenie, was born.
Schumann's primary professional associate in Dusseldorf was Julius
Tausch. He directed several choral ensembles (including the men's), and
served as Schumann's assistant. Tausch was twenty-three at the time of
Schumann's arrival, and had studied from 1844 to 1846 at the Leipzig
Conservatory, where Schumann had been one of his teachers. On Mendelssohn's recommendation, Tausch had come to Dusseldorf in 1846 to
conduct the men's chorus. He was a composer as well as a skilled pianist

The Years in D u s s e l d o r f 261

and accompanist. Schumann was supportive of his young colleague,
writing on his behalf to Breitkopf & Hartel recommending Tausch's
Fantasiestucke for publication and describing him as a "gifted musician"
(24 February 1851).
Despite the hectic schedule and difficulty in finding a suitable place
to live, the move to Dusseldorf in no way hampered Schumann's creativity. Within several months of his arrival, he had completed a new
symphony, the Third op. 97. In the following year, eighteen works
were composed, including a revision of the D minor symphony of 1841,
eventually published as the Fourth Symphony op. 120. Among works
completed were three concert overtures (for Schiller's Bride of Messina
op. 100, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar op. 128, and Goethe's Hermann and
Dorothea op. 136), lieder (including poems by Elisabeth Kulmann for
op. 103 and op. 104, and Lenau for op. 117), a Third Piano Trio op.
no, two violin sonatas (op. 105 and op. 121), a return to solo piano
music (Drei Fantasiestucke op. 111), The King's Son op. 116 (the first of
his four ballads for chorus and orchestra), and what perhaps might best
be described as a chamber oratorio, The Pilgrimage of the Rose op. 112.
In all, this was an astonishing amount of music, especially when account
is made for his settlement in Dusseldorf. In 1850, prior to the move,
Schumann had composed comparatively little, being preoccupied with
the production of Genoveva. After settling in Dusseldorf, it was as if he
were eager to return to the pace of 1849. But instead of focusing primarily on Hausmusik, he returned to music of greater dimension
such as the third and fourth symphonies and the overturesperhaps
viewed by him as more in keeping with the prestige of his new position.
At the same time, he worked diligently to promote his compositions.
Publishers were contacted, and with the Dusseldorf orchestra at his disposal, there was ample opportunity to program his new works, the
Third Symphony first being performed on 6 February 1851. Schumann
seemed full of hope and eager to branch out as a composer. With The
King's Son, he had created a new genre, a mixture of opera and oratorio
in miniature. It was a genre that had the practical benefit of taking
advantage of the need for music for the numerous choral societies in
Germany and Britain. On a larger scale, in 1851 Schumann became
absorbed in the idea of a grandiose oratorio that he hoped would have
broad appeal based on the life of Martin Luther. It was a fascinating

262 S C H U M A N N

idea, and one that he would return to in 1852, but the project (a proposed collaboration with the writer Richard Pohl) never progressed
beyond the preliminary stages.
Schumann's health bore the strain of the move to Dusseldorf well.
Except for a complication with his eyes ("weakness"; 5 October 1850),
and a reference to Wasielewski that he was still "sometimes affected by
the nervous complaint" (11 June 1852), there seem to have been few
problems. His good health and spirits are all the more remarkable given
the complications that soon developed in the performance of his duties
as a conductor.
Schumann appeared to enjoy conducting (he felt that he had ability
for it), but at first had always limited himself to conducting his own
compositions. Since making his debut as a conductor with a performance of Peri on 4 December 1843, he had conducted on numerous
occasions and in major cities, most notably Berlin and Vienna. His
association with the choral groups in Dresden had been helpful both in
broadening his repertory and in giving him an opportunity for more
consistent practice of his craft. But having to conduct an orchestra on
a regular basis and in works other than his own was new to Schumann
and must have presented a challenge.
Discontent with Schumann's ability as a conductor first manifested
itself in a less than flattering anonymous review in the Dusseldorfer Zeitung of a concert on 13 March 1851. Schumann took particular offense,
because he suspected the author was a member of the music committee.
The first season ended splendidly with a well-received performance of
Beethoven's "Pastoral" Symphony on 18 May. But the sign of discord
was an indication of troubles to follow. This was not the first occasion
on which there had been criticism of Schumann as a conductor. Privately, in Dresden it had been said that he had expected too much of
the chorus, and that he had failed at times to assert himself and exercise
decisive control of the group.
The absence of close friends and the increasingly less rewarding duties
as conductor led Schumann to consider the wisdom of remaining in
Dusseldorf. "Loneliness. Thoughts about staying long in D[usseldorf],"
Schumann wrote in the household books.1 In the fall of 1851, he wrote
Entry of 17 March 1851 in HSHLT, p. 556.

The Years in Dusseldorf 263

to the conductor Julius Stern in Berlin, laconically noting that he had

no intention of remaining in Dusseldorf forever. Clara was of the same
opinion. In April, she had written to her sister-in-law, commenting that
Schumann was "unappreciated" and that they intended to leave.
From 18 July until 5 August, they were absent from Dusseldorf,
traveling in Switzerland, a refreshing trip that Clara in particular long
remembered fondly. They traveled down the Rhine, stopping at Heidelberg, which Schumann found little changed after twenty-two years.
They continued to Basel and Geneva, enjoying themselves immensely.
Returning to Dusseldorf, they did not remain long. On the 16th, they
made a journey of about a week to Antwerp and Brussels. In Antwerp
Schumann was one of the judges at a men's choral competition, tedious
work that he did not like. With the contest completed, however, they
enjoyed the artistic attractions of the city, especially paintings by
Rubens.
In the autumn, when work with the chorus resumed, attendance was
poor. After rehearsals of Bach's Mass, Clara was indignant. The members, she felt, only wanted to amuse themselves and had "respect neither
for art nor their conductor!"3 Despite his contractual commitment, for
a time Schumann considered giving up his association with the chorus.
As the 185152 concert season unfolded, the diary revealed Clara's continued exasperation with what she perceived as the coldness of the
public and the frivolous behavior of the musicians. Her reaction only
exacerbated the situation. She had always been quick to criticize, and
as time passed grew increasingly intolerant. In her mind, it was never
a question of herself or Schumann being in the wrong; others were
always at fault. What made Clara's stance particularly dangerous was
that Schumann relied on her perceptions almost exclusively. The result
was a distorted and one-sided view of the situation, and an attitude that
admitted no compromise.
Criticism of Schumann as a conductor in Dusseldorf invariably focused on his supposed lack of skill, but it is clear that at least equally
unnerving to the ensembles he led was his personality. He appeared
detached, uncommunicative, and to many he probably appeared
Nancy B. Reich, Clara Schumann. The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985), p. 134.
Diary entry for 23 September 1851 in Litzmann II, p. 240.

264 S C H U M A N N

supercilious. He was not physically imposing, and by his presence and

actions did little to inspire obedience from those he directed. At the
same time he did not know how to please them. He was totally lacking
in social graces and in the ability to charm; neither did he have a gift
for small talk. To many in the choral society, their purpose in becoming
members was both to sing and enjoy themselves socially. But it is clear
that Schumann expected from those he led not only total dedication to
music but unusual sensitivity to it as well. Rehearsals with Schumann
appear to have been a serious if not a solemn affair.
There were times, too, while conducting, that Schumann appeared
to be completely absorbed in the music and unaware of what was occurring around himand it was those occasions that seem to have led
to the open criticism of his ability. Tausch recalled one incident during
a choral rehearsal when the sopranos were so ineffective in attempting
to sing several high notes that laughter resulted. First the sopranos
stopped singing, then the others, until the only performer left was
Tausch, who was serving as accompanist at the piano: "Schumann noticed nothing and went on beating time, and Tausch, thinking it was
no use going on by himself, stopped too. Schumann beckoned to him
to come, and Tausch expected a reproof for having broken off. But
noSchumann showed him a passage in the score and said: "Look,
this bar is beautiful."4
At times Schumann would let the most glaring mistakes pass without
comment. At other times, when dissatisfied with a passage, he would
repeat it frequently, but without pointing out what was wrong or how
it could be improved. Wasielewski felt that Schumann was not accurate
in giving the beat, and that the tempos were often too slow. In fact, it
is nearly impossible to encounter a kind remark about Schumann's ability as a conductor. Ferdinand David in describing Schumann's conducting of Paradise and the Peri in 1843 noted that he had had "four
orchestral rehearsals. Even if he had had ten, it wouldn't have gone
better."5 When conducting, he seemed on a purely subjective level to
become so immersed in the music that his own vision of the score
4

Quoted in Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 270.

Letter to Mendelssohn of 6 December 1843 quoted in Reinhard Kapp, "Das Orchester

Schumanns," Musik-Konzepte: Sonderband Robert Schumann II (1982), p. 145.

The Years in Dusseldorf 265

blinded him to the reality of the performance. And he showed little
inclination or ability to transmit that vision to the musicians around
him. Criticism of Schumann as a conductor both by professional and
amateur musicians is so widespread as to leave little doubt of his
ineffectiveness.
Yet, it was criticism the validity of which Schumann vehemently
denied. When he learned of it, he was not only offended but appeared
outraged by its preposterous nature. To understand his reaction, it is
necessary to take into account his home life and, in particular, the
changing relationship with his wife. Clara increasingly assumed two
primary functions: she became Schumann's intermediary to the world,
and, at the same time, in Schumann's eyes she became the most significant representative of it. "She watched over him," wrote Frederick
Niecks, who was able to speak with many who knew the Schumanns
during these years. "She placed herself between the outside world and
him, and prevented, as far as possible, those rubs which tortured his
sensitive mind." Her approach was unorthodox enough to be criticized
privately by at least one member of the music committee (one of Schumann's physicians, incidentally), who felt that Clara's actions robbed her
husband of his "manly decisiveness."7 Her position was a powerful one
and, whether she acknowledged it or not, did much to bolster her own
ego. In the end, her actions only served to isolate Schumann and distort
his perception. The "balance with the outside world," which Schumann
had expressed concern about maintaining in 1832, remained a problem
throughout his career. Her protective stance led to a change in his
behavior. He became insensitive and, at times, dictatorial. Niecks revealed two episodes from the years in Dresden. On one occasion, at a
party at the Bendemann's during which Clara had performed, Clara
went to Schumann stating that she was unwell and suggested that they
leave. He responded:
"But why should we go? It is so nice here." And they remained. At last
Bendemann said to Schumann: "Although it is very impolite for a host to
say so to a guest, I cannot help saying that you should have taken your
6

Niecks, p. 302.

Letter of Dr. Wolfgang Miiller von Konigswinter to Reinecke of 10 October 1851, quoted
in Paul Kast, ed., Schumanns rheinische Jahre (Dusseldorf, 1981), p. 96.

266 S C H U M A N N

wife home by now." Schumann said nothing but was angry. Next day
Bendemann received a letter in which Schumann said in an irritated way
that he did not need to be told of his wife's excellences, that he was well
aware of them. Bendemann apologized and the friendship was restored. On
another occasion Bendemann called to take Schumann out and found him
dressing. After fumbling with his tie for some time he called out, "Clara,
my waistcoat." And she brought it, and afterwards his coat. Bendemann
reproved him for this, but without convincing him.

Schumann appeared increasingly closed-minded and disdainful of others' opinions. According to Tausch's recollections, Schumann "could
not brook opposition, even in trifling matters of opinion; he even
took offense if, when he asked a question, the answer was not to his
taste. In such cases he usually rose and walked away without saying a
word."9
Despite the increasingly tense situation, there was no open breach.
But, perhaps in sympathy with more somber thoughts, as a composer
Schumann turned to an area he had previously neglected: church music.
In February and March 1852, he composed a Mass for chorus and
orchestra (published as op. 147), and in April and May created the
Requiem op. 148. Except for two more choral ballads, The Minstrel's
Curse op. 139 and The Princess and the Page op. 140, little else was
composed during the year. In number, it was a marked decline from
the previous year, and an indication of the effect his stressful position
was having on him. He may have taken some consolation from a Schumann Festival of sorts scheduled in Leipzig, including performances of
his work both at the Gewandhaus and privately. There were three concerts (on 14, 18, and 21 March); included were performances of the
Third Symphony, the Pilgrimage of the Rose (both conducted by Schumann), the overture to Manfred, the First Violin Sonata op. 105, and
the Third Piano Trio op. no.
Niecks, pp. 290-91. The household books for 15 and 16 February 1849 refer to Bendemann's "rudeness" (p. 483)probably a reference to the first episode. Schumann also could
be harsh in his criticism of Clara's performances; on one occasion in Dusseldorf, his cold
reaction to her playing reduced her to tears.
9 ,..,
Ibid., p. 270.

The Years in Dusseldorf 267

In May, Schumann decided to organize and edit his music criticism
for publication in book form. There had been no music critic more
influential nor one whose criticism had withstood so well the test of
time. Schumann wanted to preserve it in more permanent form. He
wanted as well to present it to those who, he felt, now might solely be
familiar with his work as a composer. It only took him about a week
to complete the project, and he sent it to Breitkopf & Hartel for consideration, writing that he intended it both as a memento of the times
and of himself. To undertake such a project when only forty-twoa
summing up of a time admittedly past but to which he might very well
make additional contributionsappears unusual. But during the next
few years, it often seems as if Schumann was concerned about putting
his house in order, as if the best years had passed and little remained to
be done. In the fall of 1853, he wrote to Breitkopf about the possibility
of issuing a complete catalogue of his compositions. At the same time
he went through his unpublished piano works from the years 1832-45,
many of which he now assembled in a collection later published as the
Albumbldtter op. 124.
Some of these activities may have been a reflection of the growing
deterioration of his health and his concern over it. Writing on 27 December 1852 to his collaborator on the Luther project, Richard Pohl,
Schumann revealed that he had been "very ill" for about six months
"a severe nervous disorder"and only for the past five or six weeks had
he felt somewhat better. His situation had been complicated by a serious
problem with hemorrhoids, and for much of the summer and autumn
he had been obliged to rest. The "nervous disorder" had begun in April
with sleeplessness (the stressful conditions of his work had probably contributed). A brief trip nearby on the Rhine from 26 June until 7 July was
intended to provide distraction but did not. On the 2nd, while walking
along the river, he suffered a nervous attack with spasms that cut short
the trip. The household books document the onset of the illness and its
effect: "Nervous complaint" (8 July); "Wretched wearing down of my
strength" (3 August); "Grievous time of suffering" (8 August).10 Cold
baths in the Rhine were attempted as a cure. And from 12 August until
10

HSHLT, pp. 597, 601.

268 S C H U M A N N

17 September, he stayed in Scheveningen, hoping the change of scene

and sea baths would be beneficial. Many of Schumann's symptoms, although less severe, recall those of 1844-45 at the time of his nervous
breakdown.
Except for conducting his Julius Caesar Overture on 3 August, during
this period Schumann was unable to conduct, and his duties were taken
over by Tausch. The previous March, while Schumann had been in
Leipzig, Tausch had also served as his replacement and been warmly
received. What were perceived as Schumann's deficiencies as a conductor became all the more glaring in comparison with Tausch. Schumann's return to conducting on 3 December only served to increase
the discord. As a result of growing dissatisfaction, three members of the
committee responsible for the direction of the choral society pointedly
asked him to resign. It was an independent action on their partand
apparently a hotheaded onebut indicative that for some the situation
was growing intolerable. On 15 December, Schumann received a letter
from twenty-two members of the chorus condemning the action of the
three.
But Schumann's reputation as a conductor continued to deteriorate.
In the spring of 1853, he shared duties with Hiller for the direction of
the Nieder-Rheinische Music Festival. It was a prestigious event and
Schumann's first appearance with it. The festival lasted three days (1517
May), and contained lengthy programs. Schumann's role in the festival
was extensive (several of his works, including the Fourth Symphony
and Piano Concerto were performed). At the conclusion of the festival,
Schumann was generally pleased with his performance in it. But he had
been hurt by criticism that had compared his conducting unfavorably
with that of Hiller (Hiller long remained a favorite with the Dusseldorf
public).
Despite the continued difficulties Schumann was encountering as a
conductor, his mood during much of 1853 was surprisingly bright. But
the tension of his situation is revealed by his limited activity as a composer. During the first half of the year, he composed comparatively
little: Das Gluck von Edenhall (The Luck of Edenhall) op. 143, the Faust
While there, Clara apparently suffered a miscarriage (as she may have in 1846 during a
visit to Nordeney).

The Years in Dusseldorf 269

overture, and Seven Piano Pieces in the Form of Fughettas op. 126. In
January and March, he composed piano accompaniments for Bach's
violin partitas and sonatas, and cello suitesa sign that the creative spirit
had not yet returned after the difficulties of the previous year, for although the work with Bach was a labor of love for Schumann, it was
not the creation of original compositions. In its way, the association
with Bach served as a prelude to the Fughettas op. 126 and are an
indication yet again of Schumann's immersion in counterpoint as a basis
of regaining stability. In addition, he devoted considerable time to work
on the Dichtergarten, his collection of excerpts dealing with music from
the works of writers whom he admired. In April, he completed a rereading of Shakespeare for it.
That same month, Schumann became infatuated with a fad that was
sweeping Europe at the time: table-rapping. Table-rapping consisted of
a seance of sorts, and was conducted around a table in which spirits
were contacted and asked questions. They responded by rapping on the
table and moving it. In the household books, Schumann first made
reference to table-rapping on 18 April. The numerous references that
followed over the next month (and continued sporadically until midNovember) testify to his fascination. He wrote to Hiller about the phenomenon, describing one incident in which he had requested the table
to tap out the opening of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. It did so, "but
at first somewhat slowly; I said: 'But the tempo is quicker, dear table' "
(25 April 1853). To Schumann's satisfaction, the table picked up the
pace.
Much has been made of Schumann's infatuation with table-rapping.
In Wasielewski's biography, he related his own contact with Schumann
and reported that Schumann not only expressed his fervid belief in the
phenomenon, but showed astonishment that "Wasielewski knew nothing
of it. To Wasielewski, this was yet additional proof of Schumann's growing mental instability, a stance that has unquestioningly been adopted
by succeeding biographers. But Schumann's interest in table-rapping is
better seen as a manifestation of his naivete and often childlike nature.
His fascination needs as well to be put in perspective. At about the time
of Schumann's experiments with it, for years Victor Hugo was enthralled with table-rapping. In Hugo's case, his enthusiasm has
prompted amusement, not concern for his mental health.

27O S C H U M A N N

During 1853, far more disturbing signs of a decline in Schumann's

health were evident than his delight in table-rapping. Recovery from
his infirmities of the previous year was slow. "I do not yet feel in me,"
he confided to Moritz Horn, "the strength necessary to undertake a
large, extensive work."12 His physical actions, including the pace at
which he walked, appeared slower, and his speech at times was slurred
and difficult to comprehend. On 30 July while in Bonn Schumann
collapsed, and was fearful he had suffered a stroke.13 In October, the
French artist Jean-Joseph-Bonaventure Laurens, an admirer of Schumann, traveled to Dusseldorf to make his acquaintance. The portrait he
drew of Schumann during the visit clearly shows a sick man. Schumann's face appears unnatural: puffed, but haggard and dour.
Yet, Schumann's illness did not prevent him from planning an extravagant birthday for Clara in September, the last they were to celebrate together. He presented her with the scores of two recently
completed compositionsthe Fantasy for Violin op. 131 and the
Concert-Allegro op. 134 for pianoboth placed on a new grand piano
that had been smuggled into the house without her knowledge. She
was delighted by the instrument (but concerned over its cost). The
Concert-Allegro had been written specifically for her, and was Schumann's
first work for piano and orchestra in four years. Both compositions were
an indication of renewed activity. In September, he composed a collection of piano duets for children, the Kinderball op. 130, a companion
to three Kindersonaten op. 118 he had composed in June. The next
month he produced a fascinating chamber work for piano, viola, and
clarinet (the Mdrchenerzdhlungen op. 132), and a series of five pieces for
solo piano entitled Gesdnge der Frtthe ("Songs of Dawn"), published as
op. 133 in 1855. There was also a new interest in works for violin,
including in addition to the Fantasy, a violin concerto.
The compositions for violin had been inspired by a friendship Schumann had established with the virtuoso, Joseph Joachim. Joachim
(whom Schumann had first met as a child prodigy in 1843) was twentyone years younger, and one of a number of young men who had beLetter of 11 April 1853 in Hermann Erler, Robert Schumann's Leben: Aus seinen Briefen
geschildert, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1887), II, p. 191.
HSHLT, pp. 631, 806. Particulars of the illness are not known.

The Years in Dusseldorf 271

come admirers of Schumann's music. Schumann's friendship with
Joachim blossomed when he came to Dusseldorf for the NiederRheinische Music Festival in May 1853 in order to perform Beethoven's
Violin Concerto. It had been a great success and Schumann had been
deeply moved by Joachim's artistry. Rupert Becker, son of his old friend
Ernst Becker, was another youthful admirer; he had arrived in Dusseldorf in the autumn of 1852 as replacement for Wasielewski who had
accepted a position in Bonn. In addition there was Joachim's friend, the
composer, Albert Dietrich. It was a sign of Schumann's growing popularity among a younger generation.
The most notable member of this youthful group arrived on Schumann's doorstep on 30 September 1853 with a recommendation from
Joachim. "Herr Brahms from Hamburg," Schumann noted in the
household books.14 Johannes Brahms played several of his compositions
for Schumann, including the F sharp minor Piano Sonata (later published as his op. 2). Schumann could not have been more impressed:
"Visit from Brahms (a genius)."15 On the 9th, after continued contact
with him, Schumann began writing an article for the Neue Zeitschrift fur
Musik. It had been ten years since he had published any music criticism,
and the article on Brahms was to be his last. Entitled "New Paths," it
was filled with praise, compared Brahms to Beethoven, andunintended by Schumannin many ways placed an onerous burden upon
him. Yet, while the aim of the article was to bring Brahms before the
public's eye, much of it can be interpreted as Schumann's farewell, as
if, his work completed, he was now paving the way for the arrival of
another generation. It is appropriate that the Bund makes a final appearance in the concluding sentences: "There is at all times a secret
league of kindred spirits. Close tightly the circle, you who belong to
it, that the truth of art may shine ever brighter, spreading joy and
blessings to all!"
During Brahms's visit (he was to remain until 3 November), Joachim
returned to Dusseldorf. His Hamlet Overture and a reprise of the
Beethoven concerto were to be performed at the end of the month,
14

Ibid., p. 637.
Entry of I October 1853 in Ibid.

GS II, p. 302.

272 S C H U M A N N

Schumann conducting. Rehearsals did not go smoothly. On the ayth,

scandal was narrowly averted when a cellist walked out during rehearsal
(he later gave ill-health as the reason). Once again, Schumann's lack of
skill as a conductor became pointedly displayed. He had become particularly fond of one passage in Joachim's overture, a section in which
the French horns made a striking effect with their entry. During rehearsal, the horns twice failed to enter. Schumann made no comment
to the orchestra. Instead, he "turned sadly to Joachim and said, 'They
don't come in.' "17
Dissatisfaction with Schumann as a conductor was finally coming to
a head. A concert earlier in the montha mass by Hauptmann, for
which Tausch had prepared the chorus and that at the last moment
Schumann had decided to directhad nearly been a fiasco. As a result,
on 19 October Schumann was asked by the music committee to permit
Tausch to conduct "smaller works" (such as the mass)a half-hearted
attempt not to offend Schumann, but an act that he characterized in
the household books as "shameless." The difficulties with the performance of Joachim's Hamlet later that month exacerbated the situation.
Joachim wrote to Dietrich on 6 November of a "crisis": "Schumann
and his wife are completely unaware [of the situation], and I am afraid
that, even if they are told in the kindest manner, it will be a severe
blow for them."19
On 7 November, several members of the music committee visited
the Schumann home to request that in the future he conduct only his
own works, the remainder to be conducted by Tausch. The representatives of the committee did not deliver their news to Schumann personally, but to Clara, who, outraged and insulted, informed them
(without consulting Schumann) that their action would necessitate his
resignation. Schumann tersely noted in the household books: "Decisive
day. Shameless behavior."20 On the 9th, he wrote to the committee to
inform them he would not comply with the changes demanded by
Niecks, p. 293.
Kast, p. 31 and HSHLT, p. 639.
Letter to Albert Dietrich of 6 November [1853] in Briefe von und an Joseph Joachim, ed.
Johannes Joachim and Andreas Moser, 3 vols. (Berlin, 1911), I, p. 102.
20
Entry of 7 November in HSHLT, p. 641.

The Years in Diisseldorf 273

them and that he would resign his position at the earliest date permissible by contract: 1 October 1854.
Schumann refused to conduct the next concert, and wrote to Tausch
on the 19th informing him that if he did so, he would not interpret
his action in a friendly manner. Tausch found himself in a difficult
position. Although he and Schumann had never become close, they
were on friendly terms. As recently as the previous January, Schumann
had written yet again on Tausch's behalf to Breitkopf recommending
his work. At the same time it was evident that as Schumann's ability as
a conductor had become unacceptable, Tausch's skill had been perceived
as a more than adequate replacement. If he did not conduct the forthcoming concert, he would retain Schumann's support. But it must have
been clear to him that the complaints made against Schumann were not
unjustified, and by refusing to conduct he was alienating the influential
music committee. He decided to conduct the concert.
By doing so, he became the villain in Clara's and Robert's eyes. Clara
had disliked Tausch from the moment she had met him. "If only he
were more pleasant. There is something ... in his face which I can not
become used to," she had written in the diary.21 Now he became an
intriguer who had curried favor with those in authority in order to
undermine Schumann's position (later Schumann actually accused the
committee of negotiating with Tausch behind his back). That had not
been the case. Those who had known Tausch later testified that he was
a competent musician and an honest one, far from Machiavellian and
not at all malicious. The predicament that had developed had been
brought about not by his machinations, but by Schumann's ineptness
as a conductor and by Tausch simply being on hand.
Still, the blame for the confrontation between Schumann and the
music committee should not be placed solely on Schumann. The attempt to remove him had been handled poorly, and with little regard
for his reputation and self-esteem. If Schumann had consented to conduct only his own compositions, there can be little doubt that his reputation as a conductor would have been severely damaged. Word of his
supposed incompetence would have spread rapidly in the musical
world. Since his reaction to the committee's demand was to resign, in
Diary entry of 7 September 1850 in Litzmann II, p. 225.

274 . S C H U M A N N

effect the predicament had been resolved: with further negotiation it

might have been possible for Schumann to continue his duties as conductor until the summer, at which time his musical commitments to
the city would have ceased. There is no indication that Schumann's
competency as a conductor had deteriorated to such an extent that he
would have been incapable of completing the musical season. It had
been Joachim's opinionprior to the committee's demandthat all
might turn out well if the public reacted favorably to the next concert,
an opportunity that Schumann was denied. In fact, the entire incident
could have made him more fully aware of the breadth of the discontent,
and might have led to a more determined effort on his part to conclude
his duties in an honorable and professional manner. During the remaining months in Dusseldorf, Schumann would have had ample time
to search for another position, and there would have been sufficient
time as well to find a replacement for him. His reputation would not
have emerged unsullied, but the public embarrassment implicit in the
committee's original demand would have been avoided. In its handling
of the situation, the committee made only a superficial attempt to understand Schumann's perspective of it and displayed little concern to
treat him in the manner his stature in the musical world justified.
The remaining weeks in November became increasingly distasteful
for Schumann. "Miserable people here," he noted on the 18th.22 Discouragement had set in, too, over the publication of his music criticism.
Despite the value of his work as a critic and his accomplishments as a
musician, for the past year and a half Schumann had experienced the
humiliation of having his book rejected in succession by several publishers, including Breitkopf, Wigand, and Kahnt. Now, late in the
month he finally received some good news. Wigand had reconsidered
and would publish it. But remaining in Dusseldorf was only a reminder
of his unpleasant situation, and, as a change of scene, a concert tour in
Holland was hastily put together. He and Clara left on the 24th, and
did not return to Dusseldorf until 22 December. Concerts were given
in Utrecht, The Hague, Rotterdam, and Amsterdam, and included performances of the Second and Third symphonies, the Concert-Allegro
(with Clara at the piano), and The Pilgrimage of the Rose. Their warm
22

HSHLT, p. 642.

The Years in Dusseldorf 275

reception was in stark contrast to their difficulties in Dusseldorf. When

they returned home, they stayed for less than a month. Schumann
worked on a revision of Kreisleriana, but mostly continued compiling
his Dichtergarten.
It was at this point that Joachim's friendship became of inestimable
value. For some time he had been attempting to arrange a performance
of the Peri in Hanover, where he was concertmaster. Although the
performance fell through, Schumann and Clara decided to travel to
Hanover anyway, hoping for other concert opportunities and looking
forward once again to contact with Joachim and Brahms, who was also
in Hanover. They left on the 19th, and returned on 30 January. While
there, Clara played with success at the court, and Joachim performed
the Violin Fantasy. Schumann also made the acquaintance of Julius Otto
Grimm, a composer and friend of Brahms, who soon became yet another member of Schumann's youthful circle.
Schumann had been in good spirits during the trip. He greatly enjoyed the company of Joachim and Brahms. There was a playfulness in
his friendship with themincluding frequent jokesthat was not present in his association with others. On his return from Hanover there
was no attempt at composition. Schumann occupied himself with correspondence, continued work on the Dichtergarten, and on 3 February
wrote the preface to the forthcoming edition of his collected criticism.
It was a rather wistful, poetic, and romanticized look at his past:
At the end of the year 1833 there met in Leipzig every evening and as if
by chance a number of musicians, mostly young, in the first place for social
intercourse, but also for exchange of ideas about the art that was the meat
and drink of their lifemusic. . . . Then one day the thought flashed across
the young hotheads: let us not look on idly ... let us set about restoring
the poetry of art to its place of honor. So there appeared the first pages of
a new music periodical. . . one of them, the musical dreamer of the party,
whose life had hitherto been dreamed away at the pianoforte rather than
among books, resolved to take the editing in hand himself, and carried it
on for about ten years until the year 1844. The result was a series of essays
many of which are contained in this collection. Most of the opinions therein
expressed he still holds today.23
GS I, p. I. Translated in Niecks, p. 131.

276 S C H U M A N N

Schumann's attempt to maintain the illusion of life as usual was not

successful. For both Mendelssohn and Rietz, Dusseldorf had been a
kind of musical backwater, and had served as a stepping-stone to more
prestigious positions. From the start, Schumann had portrayed the position as not a particularly good one, yet he had not been successful.
After the debacle in Dusseldorf, where else could he go? A personal
crisis of major proportions had developed, similar to that which Schumann had experienced in 1833 and 1844. In each instance, the basis for
the crisis had been concern for his livelihood: in 1833, the abandonment
of his career as a pianist, the failure of his symphony, and the lack of
recognition for his compositions; in 1844, the abandonment of his association with the Zeitschrift and concern that he would be unable to
be successful solely as a composer. In both 1833 and 1844, he had
become severely depressed and suffered nervous breakdowns. Now, ten
years later, Schumann once again found himself at a crossroads, anxious
and fearful about his future. But this crisis was more perilous than those
in the past. There were fewer options available to him and, ten years
older, Schumann lacked the buoyancy of youth.
On 6 February, he wrote to Joachim, with fond remembrances of
the recent visit. He complained that he had not yet received a word
from him, and added, "but I have often written to you in invisible ink,
and between these lines runs a cipher which will later become apparent." This could have been simple playfulness on Schumann's parthe
often wrote silly, seemingly nonsensical comments to Joachim ("I am
always in good humor when I write to you," Schumann had joked in
a letter of 6 January)but given the disturbing events that were to
occur over the following weeks, it may have been an ominous foreshadowing of Schumann's mental state.
Several days after writing to Joachim, Schumann noted in the household books: "In the evening very strong and painful hearing disturbances."24 There had been a similar occurrence during the trip to
Holland, and as a result Schumann had spent a sleepless night in Emmerich. But that attack had subsided. This one continued for six days.
Clara's diary entries provide some details:
24

Entry of 10 February 1854 in HSHLT, p. 648.

The Years in Dusseldorf 277

Friday the 10th and during the night on Saturday the nth, Robert had
such severe hearing disturbances the entire night that he did not sleep at
all. He kept hearing the same pitch, and in addition at times another interval
[. . . ] The night of Sunday the I2th "was just as bad and the day also, for
the suffering was absent for only two hours in the morning, and at 10
o'clock returned. My poor Robert suffers frightfully! All noises sound as
music to him. He says it is magnificent music with wonderfully sounding
instruments such as no one on earth has ever heard before! . . . The following nights were very badwe hardly slept at all. . . . He tried to work
during the day, but it required strenuous efforts on his part. He said many
times that if it did not stop, he would lose his mind.25
On the 14th, Rupert Becker visited Schumann. He later recalled
that Schumann had told him of hearing extremely beautiful music "in
the form of complete compositions! The sound to him is as of wind
instruments playing in the distance." At a restaurant that evening, Schumann commented that the music had started again: "This is how it
must be in another life, when we have shed our mortal coil."26
On the evening of the 17th, his condition intensified:
In the night not long after we had gone to bed, Robert got up and wrote
down a theme which, he said, angels had sung to him [Joachim wrote that
Schumann felt the theme was sent " 'by an angel as a greeting from Mendelssohn and Schubert' " ]. When he had finished it, he lay down again
and had fantastic visions the entire night, always staring with wide-open
eyes at the heavens. He truly believed that angels hovered above him and
made amazing revelations to him, all accompanied by wonderful music.
They welcomed us, and told us we would be together with them before
the year passed. . . . Morning came and with it a terrible change. The angels' voices were transformed into those of demons with monstrous music.
They told him that he was a sinner and they wanted to hurl him into hell.
His condition worsened until he became frenzied. He screamed in pain (he
later told me that hyenas and tigers were attacking him).
25
26
27
28

Utzmann II, pp. 29596.

Excerpts from Becker's diary in Eismann, p. 190.
Letter to Woldemar Bargiel of 6 March 1854 in Joachim, Briefe, I, p. 171.
Utzmann II, p. 297.

278

SCHUMANN

The days that followed were similar, a nightmarish time for Schumann, and for Clarafive months pregnanta time of growing helplessness and despair. Schumann became obsessed with his guilt, claimed
he was an "evil person," and spoke "continually about being a criminal
and that he should always be reading the Bible."29 There were occasional periods of comparative calm and lucidity, and over several days,
Schumann used the melody sent to him by angels as the basis for a
theme and variations for piano. On the 21st, he was again visited by
Rupert Becker. "It would never have occurred to me to believe that
he was ill," Becker wrote in his diary. "I found him the same as usual."30
On Sunday the 26th, Schumann seemed much improved. He wrote
a letter to Richard Noel in Amsterdam about the Rose that gives no
indication of any mental problems. And in the evening he played
through a piano sonata sent to him by a young musician, Martin Cohn,
eager for his advice. He examined the work "with the greatest interest,"
but in "a state of such joyful exaltation that perspiration poured down
from his brow."31 Later that night, Schumann "suddenly got up and
wanted to have his clothes. He said he had to go to an asylum because
he was losing control of himself, and did not know what he might do
during the night [. . . ] When I said to him: 'Robert, do you want to
abandon your wife and children?' he answered, 'It will not be for long.
I will soon return cured!' "32
During his illness, Schumann was being attended to by a pair of
physicians, Dr. Richard Hasenklever (who had arranged the text for
the Luck 20ofEdenhalt) and a Dr. Boger, a physician for the military. Clara
sent for Dr. Boger, who managed to convince Schumann to return to
bed. The next morning Schumann was "so profoundly melancholy that
it can not be described. When I simply touched him, he said, "Ah,
Clara, I am not worthy of your love."33 During the day he made a fair
Letter to Emilie List of 15 March 1854 in Clara Schumann, "Das Band der ewigen Liebe."
Briefivechsel mit Emilie und Elise List, ed. Eugen Wendler (Stuttgart, 1996), p. 179; entry in
Clara's diary of 21 February in Litzmann II, p. 298.
30

Eismann,pp. 190-91.
Clara's diary entry of 26 February in Litzmann II, p. 299.

32

Ibid.
33
Ibid., p. 300.

The Years in Dtisseldorj 279

copy of the piano variations. Clara consulted with Dr. Hasenklever and
asked their daughter Marie, twelve years old, to keep an eye on her
father:
I was supposed to sit in my mother's little room and let them know if my
father, who was in his room close by, needed anything. I sat at my mother's
desk for a while when the door of the room alongside opened. My father
stood there in his long dressing gown with the green flowers on it. His face
was extremely pale. As he caught sight of me, he clasped both of his hands
in front of his face and said, "Oh, God." And then he disappeared again.34

When Marie went into her father's room a short while later, she
found it empty. Schumann had left the house, walking toward the
Rhine. It was Carnival season at the time, so his unusual attire attracted
less attention than it normally would have. He came to a toll bridge
over the river and, having no money, offered his handkerchief to the
tollkeeper before continuing on his way. When over the river, it appears
that Schumann removed his wedding ring and threw it into the water
(Clara later found among Schumann's papers a note that read: "Dear
Clara, I am throwing my wedding ring into the Rhine. You do the
same. Then both rings will be united").35 Schumann then jumped over
the side of the bridge into the river. Two fishermen saw him and went
out in their boat to rescue him. When they drew him on board, he is
said to have attempted to leap out yet again.
At Schumann's home, his absence had been noted, but all attempts
to locate him were unsuccessful. And then about an hour later, he was
brought back. "When I went into the street," Marie recalled, "I saw
from afar a large and very noisy group of people heading towards me.
As I came closer I recognized my father who, supported by two men
under his arms, held his hands in front of his face. I was terrified."36
Schumann's suicide attempt was concealed from Clara. He was kept in
isolation at home under observation by his physicians. On the 28th, he
34

Eugenie Schumann, Ein Lebensbild meines Vaters (Leipzig, 1931), p. 391.

Litzmann II, p. 301. Clara attached no significance to Schumann's message until she later
realized that his wedding ring was missing.
Eugenie Schumann, p. 392.

28O S C H U M A N N

sent to her the fair copy of his piano variations, but was reported at
times to be "violently agitated."37
To his doctors he invariably said that "they should send him to an
asylum, because only there would he recover."38 It was decided to
transfer him to a private asylum of good reputation in Endenich near
Bonn. His children were allowed to observe his departure. "We stood
upstairs at a window and saw him," Marie remembered. "The carriage
was driven into the courtyard so that it could not be noticed from the
street. . . . We were told that our father would soon return to us completely cured, but the servant girls standing near us were crying."39

Diary entry by Clara in Litzmann II, p. 302.

38

Ibid.
Eugenie Schumann, p. 392.

C H A P T E R

1 4

The Compositions, 184354.

The difference,

so far then, between sleeping and waking seems

to be, that in the latter we have a greater range of conscious

recollections, a larger discourse of reason, and associate ideas in
longer trains and more as they are connected one with another in
the order of nature; whereas in the former, any two impressions,
that meet or are alike, join company, and then are parted again,
without notice, like the froth from the wave. So in madness, there
is, I should apprehend, the same tyranny of the imagination over
the judgment; that is, the mind has slipped its cable, and single
images meet, and jostle, and unite suddenly together, without any
power to arrange or compare them with others with which they
are connected in the world of reality. There is a continual phantasmagoria: whatever shapes and colours come together are by the
heat and violence of the brain referred to external nature, without
regard to the order of time, place, or circumstance.
Hazlitt, "On Dreams"

URING THE FINAL EIGHT YEARS OP SCHUMANN'S CREATIVE

" life, he produced ninety-three works, nearly two-thirds of his

oeuvre. Among themin addition to Genoveva, Manfred, and the Scenes
from Goethe's Faustare two symphonies, three piano trios, concertos
for piano, violin, and cello, three violin sonatas, an oratorio, and three
281

282 S C H U M A N N

concert overtures, as well as numerous songs, choral compositions, and

pieces for piano. In the eyes of Schumann and many of his contemporaries, included in the number are a substantial portion of his most
popular and most significant compositions. Yet, no works by Schumann
have generated more controversy than these. To many, if Schumann
had died in 1844, his stature as a composer would have been greater,
and his contributions more broadly acknowledged.
Criticism of Schumann's work created during the latter years of his
life gained momentum after his death. Invariably, the basis for it was
his mental collapse and confinement in Endenich. It was felt that because Schumann was insane, no doubt his mental deterioration had
affected his compositions. The music was perceived as uninspired, illogical, at times incomprehensibleto use Hazlitt's expression, "a continual phantasmagoria." The opinion expressed by Felix Clement in his
popular text, Les musiciens celebres (1887) was typical: "The 'Rhenish'
Symphony [the Third], the overtures of Julius Caesar, Hermann and Dorothea, and The Bride of Messina, the choral ballads: The King's Son, The
Minstrel's Curse, etc.all were clearly conceived and created under the
influence of his diseased mind." Those who wrote about Schumann
in the decades after his death agreed that there was a clear decline in
his creative powers. Wasielewski shared this view. Another early biographer, August Reissmann, in 1865 described Schumann's later compositions as "formless and chaotic," traits that he attributed to
Schumann's illness. Reissmann went so far as to trace this supposed
decline in Schumann's powers as far back as his Four Marches op. 76
(composed in June 1849).
It is curious that a similar critical approach did not find a broad
following with other nineteenth-century composers who were mentally
illHugo Wolf, for instance. Nor can comparable examples be found
among artists (Carl Blechen, Alfred Rethel) or writers (such as Holderlin or Lenau)to limit oneself roughly to Schumann's German contemporaries. Schumann's case was special, and probably was due both
to the change in musical style adopted by him around 1845, and to the
rather fearful and apprehensive attitude assumed by his wife and close
Felix Clement, Les musiciens celebres (Paris, 1887), p. 545.
August Reissmann, Robert Schumann: Sein Leben und seine Werke (Berlin, 1865), p. 174.

The Compositions, 184554 283

friends. Rather than attempting to combat the often harsh criticism

directed toward Schumann's later works, they seemed to share it.
To a considerable extent, these views persisted well into the twentieth century. Writing in 1928, Henry MacMaster concluded: "Between
1850 and 1853 only a single workthe D minor Violin Sonata [op.
121]is worthy of mention. . . . The remaining works consist of nothing more than automatism."3 Frederick Niecks, in his biography of
Schumann written at about the same time, emphasized that the deterioration in Schumann's creative powers was by no means limited to
the last few years of his life, but began during his residence in Dresden:
"It has to be admitted that his creative powers were already on the
wanethe occasional successes cannot blind us to the frequent
dimnesses."4 Ronald Taylor's 1982 biography of Schumann continues
to make note of the "uneven" quality of the late works: "so little of it
is truly original and memorable."5
The unacknowledged basis for much of this criticism is a deep-seated
misunderstanding of and aversion to mental illness, an approach characteristic of the nineteenth century. But as the twentieth century drew
to a close, there was an attempt to reevaluate the compositions of Schumann's final years, and to view them in a less biased and more objective
manner. No longer is it possible to accept unquestioningly those evaluations of Schumann that seemed only too eager to dismiss a substantial
portion of his work.
The Dresden Compositions
To a certain extent, the music Schumann created after 1844 seems different because starting in 1845 he composed in a different manner. After
his marriage, he had turned away from literary models (specifically Jean
Paul) as a source of inspiration, and developed instead a more faithful
representation from musical models (notably the compositions of
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven)composers who were a part of a
distinguished and recognizable musical tradition. As a result, his compositions became more traditional in basis and more comprehensible to
4

Henry MacMaster, Lafolie de Robert Schumann (Paris, 1928), p. 46.

Frederick Niecks, Robert Schumann (London, 1925), p. 4.
Ronald Taylor, Robert Schumann: His Life and Work (New York, 1982), p. 275.

284 S C H U M A N N

many. In 1845, Schumann rejected the piano as a tool for composition.

He began instead to compose without use of it (or any other musical
instrument), as he put it, "inventing and working out everything in my
head." This naturally led to a more intellectual and more reflective
approach. It was a means of overcoming what Schumann perceived as
an unwonted dependency. By relying on the piano for the expression
of musical ideas, he felt he was placing an obstacle between himself and
his musical nature (inspiration). He later advised composers to act in a
similar manner and to do away with working at the piano. "The most
important thing," he wrote, "is for the musician to purify his inner ear"
(10 May 1852).
The first works to exhibit this new approach were a series of essentially contrapuntal compositions: the Four Fugues op. 72, the Studies
for Pedal Piano op. 56, the Sketches for Pedal Piano op. 58, and the
Six Fugues on the Name, "Bach" op. 60. In 1845, Schumann was still
recovering from his nervous breakdown of the previous year. Most of
the first half of the year was devoted to the composition of these contrapuntal works, with a return in September and November to the
"Bach" fugues. Immersion in counterpoint had become a standard
means for Schumann to achieve equilibrium and to begin once again
to write music. It also was an ideal way to begin composing away from
the piano; contrapuntal complexity demanded a more cerebral approach, one better achieved away from the keyboard.
It is appropriate that Schumann's homage to Bach was written for
the instrument most readily associated with Bach: the organ. Schumann
worked on the Six Fugues with dedication. "This is a composition,"
he wrote, "on which I have labored for an entire year in order to make
it worthy of the distinguished name it bears" (15 March 1846). The
challenge was to create six compositions, each based on the same four
notes, yet to retain a measure of variety. The subject itself is chromatic
in nature, and resulted in some of the most sustained, chromatic music
he had yet composed (Ex. 14.1, 14.2). Schumann later described the
Four Fugues op. 72whose models are those of Bach's Well-Tempered
Clavieras "character pieces, only in strict form" (19 November 1849).
Much the same could be said of the "Bach" fugues. While writing
6

Entry of 1846 in Tgb II, p. 402.

The Compositions, 184554 '

Ex. 14.1
Fugal

them, Schumann rented a pedal pianoa piano fitted with pedals for
the feet like an organin order to become familiar with the technique
involved. He became fascinated by the instrument, and produced the
Studies op. 56 and Sketches op. 58 for it. The four Sketches are primarily studies in homophonic texture, but the six Studies are all canonic

Ex. 14.2
Fuga II
Lebhaft

The Compositions, 184554 287

in basis. These Studies, however, bear their contrapuntal essence lightly.

"The best fugue," Schumann had written in a review of Mendelssohn's
Preludes and Fugues op. 35, "is always that which the public takes for a
Strauss waltz"that is, one easy to listen to and in which artifice is
subdued.7 With op. 56, the listener is so captivated by the melodic
charm that the canonic inventiveness becomes almost imperceptible.
Pleased with his efforts, Schumann sent a copy of the Studies to Dorn.
"Perhaps," he wrote, "you will find them to be not entirely unworthy
of your earlier instruction" (7 January 1846).
After months of contrapuntal interests, in the summer of 1845 Schumann returned to the piano concerto whose single movement he had
completed in 1841. Attempts to sell it as a fantasie for piano and orchestra had been unsuccessful. From 21 June to 12 July, Schumann
composed a finale for it. Later that month, he revised the first movement, and completed the second movement (finding it a particular challenge to create a smooth transition from the second to the third
movement). It 'was first performed in Dresden on 4 December 1845 to
laudatory reviews, and soon became one of his most popular works.
While working on the abortive Piano Concerto in D minor in Vienna in 1839, Schumann had confessed to Clara that he was incapable
of writing a concerto in the style of a virtuoso. The same holds true
of the Piano Concerto op. 54; it exhibits none of the flamboyant and
showy traits characteristic of the concertos of, for example, Liszt or
Henselt. Except for some clearly improvisatory elements in the development section and the cadenza, there is little remaining in the first
movement that would bring to mind a fantasie. At first glance, there
seems to be a profusion of melodic ideas present (a major reason for its
charm). But this variety is deceptive. Much of the thematic material is
based on the opening theme (particularly the outline of a descending
minor or major third). This theme appears in various guises in all three
movements, and serves as the basis of the transition to the finale. Given
Schumann's contrapuntal studies in the first half of the year, his interest
in making the most of his thematic material is not surprising.
The most substantial composition created by Schumann during his
recovery to health was the Second Symphony op. 61. The idea for it
Review of 1837 in GS I, p. 253.

288 S C H U M A N N

first came to him that autumn; he wrote to Mendelssohn on 20 September 1845 that for several days he had been hearing drums and trumpets in C major ("I do not know what will come of it")a reference
to what would become the opening motive of the symphony. On 28
December, Schumann wrote that he was "completely finished" with
the symphony, but the project would occupy him intermittently until
October 1846. Orchestration commenced in February and April, followed by a more concentrated effort in September and October, the
entire work being completed on the 19th.
As Schumann so readily admitted, much of his music reflected events
in his life (or, more accurately, his reaction to them). The Second Symphony was intended to portray his depression and return to health. It
was begun when he was still illan aspect that he felt the sensitive
listener would hear in the first movement. To Wasielewski, he spoke
of the "struggle" depicted in the first movement and of its "very moody
and unruly" character.9 But it was Schumann's intention to represent
in the broadest possible sense struggle and conflict, culminating in the
finale with triumph. The Symphony was performed at the Gewandhaus
on 5 November 1846, and the score published the following year. It
was well received. His general programmatic intentions were perceived,
critics noting similarities in mood with Beethoven's Fifth Symphony
and Mozart's Symphony No. 40. But, in time, critical reaction turned
against it. Its attempt at thematic unity has been described as simplistic
and the distinctive structure of the finale has been misunderstood. Once
again, the basis for this misperception has been an attempt to interpret
Schumann by means of the classical style, an approach (as with the piano
compositions of the 1830s) of little value.
The Second Symphony consists of four movements, with the typical
order of the second and third movements reversed: Sostenuto assai/
Allegro ma non troppo; Allegro vivace (the Scherzo); Adagio espressivo;
Allegro molto vivace. The work begins with a distinctive motive for
brass that is restated near the conclusion of the second movement and
most dramaticallythe fourth movement. It is by the use of this motto
HSHLT, p. 410.
9

W, p. 366.

The Compositions, 184554 '

that Schumann openly unifies the movements of the symphony (Ex.
14.3). But, as contemporary critics noted, there is more to the thematic
unity of the symphony than the motto. At the initial appearance of the
motto, it is accompanied in the strings by a distinctive quarter-note
passage that begins with a chromatic descent and then outlines the C
major triad (Ex. 14.4). Both the motto and its accompaniment serve as
a "motivic embryo," and much of the thematic material from the remainder of the Symphony can be seen as being derived from it.10
The following movement, the Scherzo, contains two trios. The second bears witness to Schumann's continued interest in counterpoint,
and the lingering influence of the "Bach" Fugues. B-A-C-H appears
as a theme in it, as a tribute to the composer to whom Schumann
credited, at least in part, his recovery. The influence of Bach continues
in the Adagio, with a stark fugato section. Near the beginning of the
movement, there is a duet for oboe and bassoon. Schumann responded
warmly to a friend's fondness for this passage, and noted his own partiality for the "melancholy bassoon" (2 April 1849).
It is the structure of the finale of the symphony that has generated the
most criticism. Schumann was convinced that it was essential for a finale
to reflect the nature of the work as a whole. Yet, the primary theme for

Ex. 14.3

Anthony Newcomb, " 'Once More Between Absolute and Program Music'": Schumann's
Second Symphony," Nineteenth-Century Music VII (1983-84), p. 242.

Ex. 14.4
Sostenuto assai

The Compositions, 184554

2 J

Ex. 14.5
Allegro molto vivace

this finale (Ex. 14.5) lacks the vigor and gravity of the preceding movements ("its coarse, rustic character" has been noted).11 The finale gives
the impression that the movement will be a rondo, and that this italianate melody will serve as its basis. But with more than half of the movement concluded, it is discarded and another takes its place: the theme
from Beethoven's An die feme Geliebte (Ex. 14.6). It would seem, then,
that the initial theme for the finale was chosen by Schumann both to
cozen the listener, and to produce a startling and dramatic contrast for
the conclusion of the symphony.
The use of the An die feme Geliebte theme by Schumann directly associated the symphony in his eyes with Clara. To those unfamiliar with
the origin of the tune, it simply served to create an effective finale, one
in strong contrast to the "dark time" represented in the opening movement. But identification of the themeincluding its appearance in the
Fantasie and Frauenliebe und Lebenconnects the work to Clara. So does
the key, C major, selected by Schumann for all four movements of the
symphony. If, as he intended, the finale represented recovery, then he
seemed to be crediting Clara with a major role in it. In the broadest
sense, the Second Symphony provided Schumann with the opportunity
of paying tribute to the nurturing role of women, and he continued the
tribute in the work composed immediately after completion of the symphony. Schumann returned to the Scenes from Goethe's Faust. And he began by setting the celebrated "Chorus mysticus," with its concluding
line: "Das ewig weibliche zieht uns hinan" ("Eternal womanhood leads
us upward").
Was Clara aware of the theme and its association with her? In her
Second Scherzo op. 14 (published in 1845), she quotes the theme (emphasizing its presence by abrupt change in register and dynamics)as if
acknowledging the bond between herself and her husband (Ex. 14.7).
Ibid. p. 244.

Ex. 14.6
Allegro molto vivace

The Compositions, 1845-54 ' 293

Ex. 14.7
Con fuoco

Schumann viewed the creation of the Second Symphony as providing him with a beneficial catharsis. After its completion, he resumed
composition with renewed vigor. He returned to chamber music, with
two piano trios, published in 1848 and 1849 as his op. 63 and op. 80.
They are in their way counterparts to the first and second symphonies.
The Second Piano Trio resembles the First Symphony, bright in mood
and buoyant. Schumann characterized this trio as being "friendlier" than
the first (1 May 1849). The first movement quotes the melodic opening
from "Intermezzo"the second song from Schumann's Liederkreis op.
39. The text"Dein Bildnis wunderselig" ("Your blessed image")
could be another reference to Clara and her role in his recovery. The
First Piano Trio op. 63 mirrors the mood of the Second Symphony. It
too relates a program of struggle and melancholy to triumph. The first

294 ' S C H U M A N N

movement ("Mit Energie und Leidenschaft") sets the stage. As in the

symphony, the third movement is the slow movement. It contains a
duet between violin and cello that is a counterpart to the duet between
oboe and bassoon in the symphony, and flows without pause into the finale, one of heroic character.
Much of the following year, 1848, was devoted to the composition of
Genoveva, resulting in a decline in income. As a result, Schumann
turned with determination to the creation of numerous works intended
for performance at home and with amateur ensembles. Of these, the Album for the Young op. 68 was the most successful, becoming his most
popular work and providing momentum for much of his output over
the next two years. The Album consists of forty-three piano pieces for
children. Schumann had high hopes for the work after completing it in
September 1848, but could not have anticipated the immense popularity
it would enjoy. He had created the work for his own children, only too
aware of the need for simple music of superior quality for children to
study.
Most of the music composed over the next few years was similarly
utilitarian in nature. It covered a broad range of genres: music for children, such as the Song Album for the Young op. 79; a cappella choral compositions (the Romanzen und Balladen op. 67 and op. 75); vocal duets (for
soprano and tenor op. 78); four-hand piano compositions (Bilderaus dem
Osten op. 66; and miscellaneous chamber works at times comparatively
modest in technique for instruments generally neglected in the repertory, such as the Fantasiestucke (for clarinet, or violin, or cello, and piano) op. 73, the Drei Romanzen (for oboe, or violin, or clarinet, and
piano) op. 94, and the charming Funf Stucke im Volkston op. 102 (for
cello, or violin, and piano). With the exception of op. 66 (which was
composed in 1848), all the other works are from what Schumann referred to as his "most fruitful year": 1849.
Composing mixed choral music seemed a priority, not surprisingly
given his duties as a choral conductor while in Dresden. Schumann had
first entered the field in 1846 with two a cappella compositions (Funf
Lieder von Robert Burns op. 55 and Vier Gesdnge op. 59). But he was not
content to create choral pieces in the usual format. The Spanisches Liederspiel op. 74 (1849), based on texts by Geibel, contains, in addition to
choral settings, several for solo voice and pairs of voices, with duet piano

The Compositions, 1845-54 . 295

accompaniment. In creating it, Schumann was convinced he had assembled a distinctly original work, and one that would have broad appeal. A
similar approach was followed in the Minnespiel op. 101 (1849; based on
texts from Ruckert's Liebesfmhling), and Spanische Liebeslieder op. 138
(1849; also using poems by Geibel). The Jagdlieder op. 137 (1849; texts
by Heinrich Laube) for male chorus with accompaniment ad libitum for
four French horns draw more on Schubert and the male choral
tradition.
The uprisings in Europe during these years found expression as well
in Schumann's music. The Drei Gesdnge for men's chorus op. 62 (1847)
are patriotic in nature. And the revolution in Dresden and its aftermath
inspired the Four Marches op. 76 for solo piano. Schumann was pleased
with themhe referred to them as "republican" in nature (17 June
1849)and Whistling hurriedly published them with an eye-catching
cover.
Much of the music Schumann composed during these years remains
little known. To a great extent, it has been dismissed as academic, stiff,
conservative, or uninspired. Schumann would have perceived a substantial amount of the music created during the latter 1840s as being primarily pragmaticintended to be pleasurable to listen to and
pleasurable to perform. In those goals it often admirably succeeds. The
emphasis is on a lyrical simplicity. As Schumann frequently mentioned
to prospective publishers, much of it is fairly easy to perform. And there
is often a clear attempt to amuse, as in the humorous setting "Zahnweh"
("Toothache") in op. 55 or the droll "Lager-Scene" in op. 76. He never
intended these compositions to be those on which his reputation as a
composer would be based, but rather as an adjunct to his other work
and as a much-needed means to earn additional income. But while the
bulk of the music he created in the late 1840s may have been Hausmusik, there was still time devoted to compositions of greater scope.
Manfred and portions of the Scenes from Goethe's Faust were composed in
1848-9. And, in 1849, he set to music a large-scale choral work with orchestral accompaniment: Hebbel's Nachtlied. The Nachtlied op. 108 has a
kinship with Manfred, and, like it, deserves to be better known. It is
somber and reflective, with dark, distinctive use of the orchestra.
That same year, Schumann completed two concertos: the Concerto
for Four Horns op. 86 and the Introduction and Allegro op. 92. The

 SCHUMANN

Concerto for Four Horns is an unusual work that draws not on the concerto grosso (as the title might imply) but on the concertante concept.
Schumann seemed to take pride in what he described as its "curious"
nature (27 February 1849), a reference not to the multiple solo instruments of the concerto but to the fact that four horns were used. In fact,
distinctive combinations of instruments in a concerto were not all that
unusual for the time: there are concertos for two and four violins, two
horns even one, by Rietz, for wind quintet. The Introduction and Allegro op. 92 is a single-movement piano concerto, linked thematically
(the theme from the introduction reappears in the development and
coda of the Allegro). Its length (only about fifteen minutes) has made it
difficult to schedule in standard orchestral concerts, and it remains little
known. But it is a worthy, although somewhat stolid, companion to the
Piano Concerto op. 54.
The Diisseldorf Compositions
After the sale of the Zeitschrift in 1845, although Schumann no longer
wrote about music, his reputation as critic became enhanced by his
growing fame as a composer. He continued actively to examine new
music, and frequently was sent compositions by young composers, eager
for his advice and hopeful of his support. His reaction to a set of compositions sent to him in August 1848 by Carl Wettig reveals a great
deal both about Schumann's musical ideals and about his own
compositions. In general, his response to the numerous (and usually
unsolicited) compositions sent to him was generous. He always seemed
to have in mind the kind letter he had received in 1828 from Gottlob
Wiedebein, and was eager to be encouraging. But Schumann's reaction
to Wettig's compositions was exceptional. Wettig, who was only twentyone, quickly received a letter from Schumann, which praised the "clarity and beauty" of Wettig's work. "It was such a great joy," Schumann
wrote, "to discover at one time what I so long have looked for in
vain"(5 August 1848). Schumann did have reservations. Some piano
pieces sent by Wettig Schumann compared favorably to Mendelssohn's
Songs without Words, but, he told him, "for all that, I believe we must
come up with something else, something new" (27 November 1848).
Schumann's attraction to Wettig's compositions is not hard to discover. His music is dynamic, and quite distinctive (and deserves to be

The Compositions, 1845-54 297

better known). But the basis for Schumann's interest becomes clearer
when placed in perspective. At about the same time as his discovery of
Wettig, Schumann was sentvia a mutual friend (Gustav Nottebohm)the Piano Sonata op. 3 by Johann Rufmatscha. Rufmatscha
was Austrian, two years younger than Schumann, and a student of the
distinguished theorist Simon Sechter. Schumann was appalled by what
he found in the work. "Can it be that you actually like such music?"
Schumann wrote to Nottebohm. "I do not. It seems completely foolish
to me" (4 December 1847). What Schumann found "foolish" in the
sonata was its conservative style. Here was a composer so beholden to
tradition that all individuality was stifled. Everything about the work
seems predictable, including the textbook sonata structures and square
melodic lines.
Rufmatscha's sonata provides an exemplary instance of the academic
"classicism" that Schumann deplored, and that he has been accused of
adopting. Wettig's music, on the other hand, used tradition as a point
of departurean approach Schumann had adopted during much of his
career. It was the progressive nature of Wettig's compositionsas well
as their "clarity and beauty"that appealed to Schumann. As he approached his fortieth year, he continued to advocate change in music
as he had put it to Wettig, "something else, something new"an approach reflected in his own compositions during the last years of his
life.
In his lieder, Schumann increasingly adopted the more declamatory
vocal style used in larger-scale works such as Genoveva. The songs of
op. 89 (1850) and op. 107 (1851-52) are notable instances. They emphasize, too, the transition the lied was making from the home to the
concert hall. But Schumann did not disdain more tuneful, popular elements. The Six Songs of op. 90 (on poetry of Lenau) begin with a
folklike "Blacksmith's Song," with the piano imitating the syncopated
rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer. The fifth song of the set
("Loneliness") and the second ("My Rose") require greater sensitivity
from both singer and pianist. There is a wonderful interplay between
piano and voice recalling that found in the lieder from 1840, but no
In later years, Rufmatscha wrote music more original in style. His Grand Caprice op. 5
was dedicated to Schumann, and was favorably reviewed in 1851 in the Zeitschrift.

SCHUMANN

Ex. 14.8
Langsam, mit innigem Ausdruck

= 108 )

longer is there a reliance on more conventional melodic patterns or on

symmetrical four-bar phrasing (Ex. 14.8). Schumann felt that a number
of the compositions he was now creatingthose that he described as
"the best and deepest"a substantial proportion of the public would
be unable to comprehend at "first hearing" (17 December 1851). Although he still composed works that he felt would be more readily

The Compositions, 1845-54 299

accessiblesuch as the Vier Husarenlieder op. 117 (to texts by Lenau;
1851), the Fantasiestucke op. 111 (for solo piano; 1851), and the charming Ballszenen op. 109 (for piano, four-hands; 1851)he felt it was
essential to create works challenging both to himself and to his
audience.
The idea of creating "something new" led to exploration and creation of other musical genres, as well as different approaches to the genres
he had already attempted. In 1849, while still in Dresden, Schumann
set to music Hebbel's ballad, "Schon Hedwig," but did so in a manner
that he believed to be completely original. His ideasetting a poem
not as a song but as a recitation with piano accompanimenthad first
occurred to him four years earlier. It was a form of melodrama, a device
he used so effectively with orchestral accompaniment in Manfred. But
what Schumann did not realize was that the idea of adapting it for piano
was not original; other nineteenth-century composers, including Schubert, had used it. Schumann was enthusiastic, noting that the work
could even be performed without recitation as a solo piano piece. Hebbel's ballad was published as his op. 106, and Schumann wrote two
additional pieces in similar format (on texts by Hebbel and Shelley),
the Zwei Balladen op. 122. These are exceptionally dramatic settings,
and it is not difficult to imagine the thrills they produced in the parlor
or music room.
In contrast to Schumann's declamatory pieces are his efforts in another genre, one that truly was new and original. He composed several
chamber works inspired by the "Marchen" (the German fairy-tale, often intended for adults): the Marchenbilder op. 113 (1851) and the Marchenerzahlungen op. 132 (1853). The titles for these two works are usually
translated as "Pictures from Fairy-Tale Land" and "Fairy-Tales" respectively, but the translations do not capture the essence of Schumann's
intentions. While some reference to the simple fairy-tales ("Volksmarchen") of, for example, Andersen or the Grimm brothers may be
intended, there is also an association with the more complex and elaborate conceptions ("Kunstmarchen") of Hoffmann, Tieck, and others.
Schumann made no claims, as in the case of the declamatory pieces,
for having created a new type of musical composition, but he could
have.
Other compositions by Schumann from these final years were more

3OO S C H U M A N N

traditional in genre. The Third Symphony was completed in November

and December 1850, and first performed on 6 February of the following
year to acclaim. What seemed to contribute to its success was its tunefulness and genial nature. It has received the nickname "The Rhenish,"
but the title was not Schumann's. The general programmatic associations of the work appear justified. At its premiere, the concert program
included the title "Intermezzo" for the third movement and "In the
Character of the Accompaniment to a Solemn Ceremony" for the
fourth movementan annotation also present on the autograph but
one that was not included in the score "when published in 1851. The
"Solemn Ceremony" has long been thought to refer to one that Schumann witnessed in Cologne on 11 December 1850: the elevation of an
archbishop to a cardinal. But although he probably read accounts of the
ceremony in local papers (and admired the Cologne cathedral), the
household books reveal that he was not in Cologne at the time.
Although its supposed program may be open to conjecture, Schumann's intentions with the symphony are not. As he told Wasielewski,
he wanted "popular elements" to predominate.13 On the surface, the
most unconventional aspect of the Third Symphony is its number of
movements: five, arranged in the order "Lebhaft," "Scherzo" ("Sehr
ma'ssig"), "Nicht schnell," "Feierlich," and "Lebhaft." But as Schumann
hastened to assure his publisher, the additional movement did not make
the symphony bulky. In fact, both the third and fourth movements are
fairly shortin effect, creating one large "slow" movement. They provide variety and contrast that seemed to be welcomed by contemporary
audiences. The "popular elements" alluded to by Schumann refer to
the tunefulness of much of the work. There is a folklike character present, seen as well in the landlerlike scherzo.
Not surprising is the thematic unity among the movements, characterized by themes that emphasize a descending and ascending fourth.
Less noticeable is the unusual structure of the melodies themselves.
There are folklike tunes, such as that for the scherzo, in symmetrical
four-bar phrases. But others reveal much ingenuity in their construction. The symphony opens with a melody seventeen measures long.
The syncopation of the first six measures creates a disruptive effect, and
13

W, p. 456.

The Compositions, 1845-54 301

sets these measures off from the remaining eleven, arranged in units of
three and four. The contrasting theme of the movement is actually
based upon two seven-measure sections with a pair of additional repetitive measures added to give the impression of symmetrical eightbar phrases.
The fourth movementthat associated with the "solemn ceremony"is the most distinctive. It is a ricercare, in which Schumann
employs a brief two-measure motive, and, as counterpoint to it, the
motive in diminution. It is an unsettling piece of music, somber and
deliberate. This movement, incidentally, was one that Clara confessed
she had considerable difficulty understanding. Its archaic style must have
perplexed not a few. But the confusion was likely outweighed by its
grandeur and the power of the orchestration, in which the brass have
a preponderant role.
Late in the autumn of 1851, Schumann was approached by friends
and family of Norbert Burgmuller (a Dusseldorf native). At his death,
Burgmuller left unfinished the final two movements of his Second Symphony, and Schumann was asked to complete it for publication. He
declined to finish the finale, for which only some sketches survived.
But for the scherzo it was primarily a matter of orchestration, and he
completed it on 2 December. It was an unusual gesture on Schumann's
part, and an indication of the esteem in which he held Burgmuller's
work. It can be no coincidence that ten days later he began work on
the "reinstrumentation" of his own symphony, the symphony that he
had completed in 1841 and that had been performed along with the
Overture, Scherzo, and Finale to little acclaim that December.
It was this revised symphony that Schumann was to publish as his
fourth (first performed on 3 March 1853). He spent a week on it. Much
of his efforts reorchestrating it were devoted to making the thematic
material more recognizablethat is, his goal was increased clarity. But
he did not limit himself to instrumentation: he altered the transition
from the introduction to the Allegro of the first movement, and in the
third movement he deleted a brass fanfare opening and changed the
transition to the finale. Not everyone felt that the symphony had been
necessarily improved by his changes. Brahms was fond of the first version, and promoted it in the 188os. But although there are attractive
elements in Schumann's initial versionincluding a guitar (not notated)

3O2

SCHUMANN

to accompany pizzicato strings in the Romanzethe revision has its

strengths. As Schumann intended, greater lucidity resulted from the instrumentation. And the transitions altered by him now appear more
refined.
Perhaps the most revealing change made by Schumann occurred in
the transition to the finale, where he restated the theme from the Allegro of the first movement. It was intended to emphasize both the
thematic unity in the symphony and the unusual structure of it. Schumann's Fourth Symphony is not a symphony in the traditional sense;
at first he wanted to refer to it as a "Symphonic Fantasy."14 The four
movements are to be performed with brief pauses between them. Overall, the symphony attempts to create the effect of a single-movement
work in a broad, generalized sonata form. There is no recapitulation in
the first movementa new theme is introduced in its stead. Rather,
the finale of the symphony serves as a varied recapitulation for the entire
work. Themes within the symphony (outlining a minor third and minor
second) are clearly related (Ex. 14.9).

Ex. 14.9
Introduction to Movement I
Ziemlich langsam

HSHLT, pp. 580, 795.

Ex. 14.9 continued

Movement I
Lebhaft

Finale

3O4 S C H U M A N N

Because of its structure, in many ways the fourth is the most difficult
of Schumann's symphonies to comprehend. That it was not understood
in 1841 is not surprising. The idea of having each of the movements
proceed with little pause from one to another was not new: Mendelssohn followed a similar approach in his symphonic cantata Lobgesang
"Hymn of Praise" op. 52 (1840), and Schumann had noted this innovation in his review of the work. What was new was the idea of creating
a symphony that in effect was a single movement, with all sections
united by similar thematic material. Liszt later pursued a similar technique in his tone poems, and in his Piano Sonataa work that was
dedicated to Schumann.
In addition to the two symphonies, Schumann composed three concert overtures during the years in Dusseldorf, each inspired by a literary
work: Schiller's Bride of Messina op. 100, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar op.
128, and Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea op. 136. All were composed
in 1851. The overtures seemed to answer Schumann's need to compose
dramatic music, if not as opera, then as orchestral compositions imbued
with the spirit of the stage. Schiller's drama provided him with yet
another tale of incest. Schumann described his overture for it as not so
much a concert but a "theater overture" easily comprehensible in a
single hearing (17 December 1852). The Hermann and Dorothea Overture was the sole result of Schumann's interest in composing an opera
based on Goethe's idyllic love poem. Schumann was particularly fond
of the poem. In 1845, he noted that he had read it "at least 10 times."15
In 1851 he briefly considered arranging it as a Singspiel (an idea that
had also occurred to him five years earlier) and then as an oratorio.
None of these three overtures is particularly successful. They are
conventional and filled with bombast. Hermann and Dorothea relies heavily on the "Marseillaise" (a reference to the role of French revolutionary
forces in Goethe's drama) and is Schumann's most Meyerbeerian work.
His obvious intention was to court public favor, and the model was
Beethoven, particularly the overtures to Coriolanus and Egmont. But at
times the overtures seem to owe more to Beethoven's symphonic spectacle, Wellington's Victory, or The Battle of Vittoria.
Gerd Nauhaus, "Schumanns 'Lekturebuchlein'," in Robert Schumann und die Dichter: Bin
Musiker als Leser, ed. Joseph A. Kruse (Dusseldorf, 1991), p. 59.

The Compositions, 1845-54 ' 305

During the first years of Schumann's residence in Dusseldorf, he
composed a substantial amount of chamber music, including another
piano trio (October 1851), and two violin sonatas (the first, op. 105, in
September and the second, op. 121, two months later). The Third
Piano Trio op. 110 echoes the program for the First Piano Trio: struggle
to triumph. But it is unusually melancholy in mood, an aspect of which
Schumann was aware and which he attempted to lighten in the finale.
That same melancholy permeates the First Violin Sonata but in this
instance without a triumphant finale. The initial theme from the first
movement returns in the finale (still in minor mode), as if to emphasize
the continuing gloom. The works were created during a time of growing disillusionment with life in Dusseldorf.
These chamber works confirm the new direction in Schumann's music. There is more use of asymmetrical melodies, and shorter melodic
lines emphasizing distinctive motives. Within individual movements
the opening movements of op. no and op. 105 are good examples
Schumann is often monothematic. Motivic development becomes a
dominant structural principle. At its most successful, Schumann's music
appears more compact and terse. This approach served as an ideal means
of avoiding what he felt was the excessive pathos in the music of many
of his contemporaries. "Here and there I was struck by a considerable
amount of sentimentality in your compositions," he wrote to one colleague. "Don't let it get the upper hand! Bach and Beethoven are good
antidotes for it" (10 April 1848). Contemporary critics took note of the
change in Schumann's music, but frequently unfavorably. A review of
the Requiem fur Mignon and accompanying lieder from Goethe's Wilhelm
Meister's Apprenticeship pointed out their "new manner" and described
the style as "original, but all in all unpleasant."1
Schumann composed little in 1852. For much of the time he was ill
and depressed. The two choral ballads, The Minstrel's Curse op. 139 and
The Princess and the Page op. 140, were composed in January and June/
July, respectively. The only other substantial compositions from the year
were the Mass op. 147 (February and March) and the Requiem op.
16

Review of 1851 quoted in Friedhelm Krummacher, "Requiem fur Mignon: Goethes

Worte in Schumanns Musik," in Klaus Hortschansky and Konstanze Musketa, eds., Georg
Friedrich HandelBin Lebensinhalt: Gedenkschrift fur Bernd Baselt (19341993) (Halle, 1995),
p. 271.

306 S C H U M A N N

148 (April and May). In the previous year, Schumann had advised a
young composer that the creation of religious music was the "highest
goal of the artist" (13 January 1851). Yet, he was not religious in a
conventional manner (regular attendance at church, for example). References to church and religious matters are uncommon in his correspondence and diaries.
At the time of Schumann's move to Dusseldorf, he had only composed two pieces that might be construed as church music. The Adventlied op. 71 (for soprano, chorus, and orchestra, to a text by Ruckert)
had been written in 1848. Schumann did not like the title, however,
which he considered too seasonal, and privately referred to it as a
"church piece."17 The motet Verzweifle nicht op. 93 (1849; for double
male chorus and organ ad libitum, also to a text by Ruckert) would be
a work suitable for performance in church. But the Mass and Requiem
were the only compositions created by Schumann with a liturgical basis.
He may have been inspired by his duties as a conductor of church music
in Dusseldorf, but that he would now direct his attention to religious
music seems a confirmation of his reflective and at times gloomy state
of mind. "[A requiem] is written for oneself," he told Wasielewski.1 It
all seemed to be part of Schumann's growing conviction that he was
nearing the end of his career. The Mass is an austere work. There are
inspired momentssuch as the passage for soprano and cello accompanied by muted strings in the Offertoriumbut the work suffers from
little variety in texture and melody. The Requiem, an elegiac work of
calm resignation, is less static with more contrast. Both works were
published posthumously.
Schumann's ill health continued sporadically during the first half of
1853, and he showed little interest in writing music. Instead, he studied
Bach's partitas and sonatas for solo violin and the suites for solo cello,
and prepared piano accompaniments for them. This was not as unusual
a venture as it might seem today; similar revisions had been attempted
by several composers, including Mendelssohn, all in an attempt to adapt
Bach to nineteenth-century taste. As a result of his work on Bach, in
April Schumann started writing contrapuntal pieces of his own: the
17
18

W, p. 405.
Ibid. p. 404.

The Compositions, 1845-54 ' 307

Seven Piano Pieces in the Form of Fughettas op. 126. As he confessed
to the publisher Arnold, these were "mostly of a melancholy character."19 The contrapuntal exercise seemed to have its usual stimulating
effect. In August, he returned to compositions of greater dimensions,
beginning with the Faust Overture.
After completing the overture, Schumann turned his attention to a
single-movement concerto for piano, a work that he described in the
household books as a "Phantasiestiick." Published in 1855 as the
Konzert-Allegro mit Introduction op. 134, the "Phantasiestiick" reaffirms
Schumann's interest in writing a single-movement concerto for piano.
As had been the case with the Introduction op. 92 (and initially with
the Piano Concerto op. 54), he seemed intrigued with the concept of
one movement embodying in principle the effect of a three-movement
concerto. As the title implies, the Concert-Allegro is more virtuoso in
nature, an aspect that was probably gratifying to Clara, to whom the
work was given as a birthday gift.
In the autumn of 1853, Schumann wrote two additional concertos,
both for violin. These were his final large-scale compositions and resulted from his friendship with Joachim. The Violin Fantasy op. 131
was composed in September 1853. Schumann had in 1850 written a
cello concerto (op. 129) for the Frankfurt cellist Robert Bockmuhla
work that, after decades of neglect, has become a vital part of the repertory. Schumann was enthused by the possibilities of writing a similar
piece for the violin, but was somewhat anxious about the results, and
he shared the initial version with Joachim, asking him to point out
anything that did not seem "practical" (14 September 1853). To Kistner,
he described the Fantasy as "brilliant," and "very cheerful in character"
(17 November 1853)terms nearly identical to those that he had used
in reference to the Cello Concerto.
At about that time, Schumann prepared a version for violin of the
Cello Concerto for Joachim. Then, in the opening days of October
during the initial visit of Brahmshe completed a violin concerto in
19

Letter of 24 February 1853 in Wolfgang Boetticher, "Robert Schumann und seine Verleger," in Musik und Verlag: Karl VStterle zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Baurn and W. Rehm
(Kassel, 1968), p. 174.
20
Entry of 23 August 1853 in HSHLT, p. 633.

3O8 S C H U M A N N

three movements. To Joachim, Schumann described the work as

"lighter" in nature than the Fantasythat is, not as showyand with
an increased role for the orchestra (13 October 1853). Joachim tried it
out in rehearsal on 25 January 1854 during Schumann's visit to Hanover.
But, although he did not admit it to Schumann, he did not like the
piece. A month later Schumann's suicide attempt occurred, and that
seemed to confirm Joachim in his dissatisfaction with the concerto. He
became convinced that it showed a decline in Schumann's creative
powers. In particular, Joachim criticized the third movement, which he
described as monotonous and repetitive, a criticism shared by Clara. It
was decided not to publish the work. Joachim, to whom Schumann
had given the autograph score, retained the manuscript. After his death
it was sold by Joachim's son to the Preussischer Staatsbibliothek in Berlin, with the stipulation that it not be published until at least one hundred years after Schumann's death.
At that point, the fate of the concerto took a strange twist. In 1933,
the violinist Jelly d'Aranyi received, via the aid of a spiritualist, a message from Schumann informing her of the existence of the concerto,
and asking that she perform it. The manuscript was traced to Berlin,
and soon performances and publication of the score were scheduled.
Schumann's Violin Concerto, however, had not been forgotten prior
to d'Aranyi's interest in it. Its existence was known to readers of Jansen's
edition of Schumann's letters, and to anyone familiar with Moser's standard biography of Joachim. Attempts to bring the work to light were
vehemently opposed by Schumann's daughter, Eugenie, who agreed
that the work was unworthy of her father. A controversy of major
proportions developed. "Our mother gave us children to understand in
the tenderest way that the concerto bore distinct traces of his last illness," Eugenie wrote in a letter to the editor of the The Times in London. And she reiterated Clara's conviction that "the concerto is not to
be published, not now nor at any time."
Despite Eugenie's opposition, publication and performance of the
work went forward. But only in the past few decades have more tempered evaluations of the concerto prevailed. As had become typical in
Schumann's later works, the themes of the three movements are linked
Letter to The Times, London, 15 January 1938.

The Compositions, 184554 309

motivically. And, as in both the piano and cello concertos, the second
and third movements are joined by a transition (the finale in this instance being a polonaise). Much of the writing for the violin recalls
Bach, with baroquelike figuration. While it would be foolish to dismiss
the work as shoddy or "unworthy" of Schumann, few would deny that
it is uneven.
If, as Hazlitt put it in the quotation at the beginning of this chapter,
during madness the mind has "slipped its cable" producing jarring and
incongruous juxtapositions, its counterpart in Schumann's music often
affects structural design. Sections appear to terminate abruptly, as in the
passages prior to the codas of the first and third movements of the
concerto. Transitions appear ungainly and gaps in the musical flow are
created, as if several measures have inexplicably disappeared. What
seems to be missing is the craftsmanshiphow to move smoothly from
one place to another. Similar criticism can be made of all of Schumann's
larger-scale compositions created during the late summer and autumn
of 1853, including the Faust Overture, and opp. 131 and 134. His recovery to health after the illness of 1852 had been gradual. The active
return to conducting in the autumn and the growing criticism of his
abilities created a situation of immense stress, reflected in his
compositions.
Schumann completed the concerto on 3 October 1853. During the
next five weeks, he composed four additional works: the Mdrchenerzdhlungen op. 132, the Gesange der Fruhe op. 133, the Third Violin Sonata
(WoO 27), and the Romances for cello. The Romances were later destroyed by Clara, who felt the work to be inferior in quality. The Third
Violin Sonata, although not destroyed, has in its way suffered a similar
fate. It was not published until 1956, and few are aware of its existence.
It came into being under unusual circumstances. It was decided by
Schumann, Brahms, and Albert Dietrich jointly to surprise Joachim
with a sonata, using as its basis a motive (F-A-E) derived from Joachim's
personal motto "Frei aber einsam" ("Free but alone"Joachim was a
bachelor, and preferred not to be). Dietrich composed the first movement, Brahms the scherzo, and Schumann the slow movement and
finale. After the work had been completed, in late October Schumann
decided to make use of the two movements he had already composed
by creating his own violin sonata. He replaced the two movements of

310 S C H U M A N N

Brahms and Dietrich with newly composed ones (these two movements
do not use the F-A-E motto).
The Gesange der Fruhe is a collection of five short pieces for solo
piano, first referred to by Schumann rather cryptically as "Diotima."
Diotima was an Arcadian priestess and supposed teacher of Socrates.
But it seems more likely that Schumann's allusion was to Holderlin's
Susette Gontardreferred to as Diotima in some of his most famous
poems. The title, given Schumann's precarious mental state, reveals both
a sense of hope and resignation. "Songs of Dawn" is an appropriate
translation, although the usual one is "Morning Songs". Three days
before his suicide attempt, Schumann described the work to a prospective publisher as an attempt not to represent the dawn itself but to
portray the feelings awakened by the approach and gradual arrival of
daybreak.
It is surprising that the Gesange did not suffer the same fate as the
Romances for cello. Perhaps what saved the Songs was Schumann's continued interest in them. He wrote to Clara from Endenich on 10 October 1854 asking to examine the manuscript, and was clearly anxious
that they appear in print (they were published the following year).
Much of the criticism made of the Violin Concerto is applicable to
them as well. They often appear fragmented and unpolished. They are
also distinctly unpianistic, that is, the music does not lie at all comfortably under the fingers. Much of this is the result of the unusually thick
texture. The first piece is in many ways the most effective, a majestic
hymnlike tune stated at first pianissimo in unison.
Hymns may have offered Schumann a measure of consolation. A
setting of a chorale is the only work that has survived from his years in
Endenich. And the last composition he completed before his mental
breakdown in February 1854 was a set of five variations for solo piano
in which the theme resembles a hymn (Ex. 14.10). This is the melody
that Schumann believed had been sent to him by angels. It is similar to
the primary theme of the second movement of the Violin Concerto.
But it bears a strong resemblance as well to the opening theme of
Norbert Burgmuller's Second Symphony, revised by Schumann in
1851.
22

Entry of 15 October 1853 in HSHLT, p. 639.

The Compositions, 184554 311

Ex. 14.10
Moderate

This final composition was not published during Schumann's lifetime. The theme alone was included as an appendix to his complete
works (edited by Brahms), which appeared near the close of the century.
It has much in common with the Gesange der Fruhe, although the overall
texture is by no means as ponderous. The variations themselves are fairly
straightforward, with distinct and clearly recognizable appearances of
the theme in all but the final, free variation. Schumann worked assiduously on the pieces in the days preceding his attempted suicide. The
manuscript has survived, a clean copy in Schumann's own hand. It is
not dated, but Schumann's signature, unusually distinct and legible, appears at the end. The title page bears the simple dedication: "To Clara."

C H A P T E R

1 5

Endenich

The prison became a veritable tomb, but one in which all peace
was denied us. One by one all human consolations were taken
away; our sufferings

became ever greater. I resigned myself to the

will of God, but in sorrow.

Silvio Pellico, My Prisons

T WAS AN EIGHT-HOUR JOURNEY TO ENDENICH. UNTIL THEY

reached Cologne (about two-thirds of the distance), Schumann had

appeared restful, but from that point on he continually asked if they
would arrive soon. On 6 March, Dr. Hasenklever (who had accompanied Schumann) returned to Dusseldorf and portrayed Endenich as
pleasantly as possible, noting that from his room Schumann had a beautiful view of nearby mountains, and that he had been received "with
affection." For the first week, Clara received no news of his condition.
She was in a distraught state, often unable to sleep. Friends and family
came to her support. Her mother arrived from Berlin, and the day
before Schumann's departure for Endenich, Brahms arrived. Joachim
appeared two days later. Wasielewski, who now lived in Bonn not far
from Endenich, eventually was able to send sporadic news of Schumann's condition. But it was not until 10 March that Clara finally re1
Htzmann II, p. 304.
312

Endenich 313
ceived official word from Endenich that Schumann was "pretty much
the same," though "overall somewhat quieter."
The asylum in Endenich had been the first facility of its type built
in the area. Its reputation was good, and by all accounts it was well
maintained. It was, fortunately, a private institution, for conditions in
public facilities were often horrific. For much of the nineteenth century,
little attempt was made to comprehend mental illness. Enlightened facilities only began to appear on the continent (at first in France and
then in Germany) in the 1840s. Complicating treatment was the shame
associated by many with mental illness. It was not uncommon for the
family to attempt to ignore what had happened, institutionalizing the
mentally ill until death, as if attempting to create the illusion that the
person had never existed. Because of Schumann's stature, it was impossible to pretend that nothing had occurred to him. But it is significant that, for the final years of his life, notice of Schumann in the
music world dropped sharply, as did his reputation as a composerthis
despite the fact that in 1854 and 1855 alone, nine new compositions
(all composed prior to his breakdown) appeared in print.
Endenich was a seven-acre estate, originally built in 1790 as a summer residence. It still retained some of its original character, and contained extensive gardens. The director, Dr. Franz Richarz, was two
years younger than Schumann. In 1844, he had purchased the estate,
and converted it into an asylum. For its time, policies there appeared
strongly progressive. Patients, although under constant supervision,
were allowed some freedom, and walks both on and off the grounds
were permitted (always attended, in Schumann's case). Treatment at the
asylum was costly, in time a major concern for Clara. But she remained
strongly independent and determined to provide as much as possible
herself. On the 22nd, she received a letter from Hartel offering to arrange a benefit concert for her and the children in Leipzig, but quickly
refused. "I will [give concerts] myself, if necessary," she wrote in her
diary.3
Communication with Endenich was primarily conducted through
Dr. Peters, Porharz's assistant. It was he who supplied reports on

Ibid., p. 306.
Ibid., p. 309.

314

SCHUMANN

Schumann's state. Direct communication with Schumann was not permitted, apparently in the belief that he would return quicker to health
if "everything which might bring to mind his accident" was kept from
him."4 Such an approach was an unusual one for Richarz, who in
general viewed "as very beneficial communication between those who
were ill and their family."5 The weekly reports from Peters at first offered Clara little consolation or hope for a quick return to health. On
20 March, he described Schumann as being "better than at first," but
still susceptible to relapses when he would become restless and "kneel
and wring his hands." He seemed burdened by guilt. While in Endenich, he noted he would "burn in hell" for his "evil" conduct.7 The
guilt that troubled Schumann had a moral basis and seemed to be associated with an act of his that occurred prior to marriage. In his correspondence with Clara in the 1830s, despite his apparent frankness,
Schumann was never completely open. When he wrote to her about
his association with Ernestine von Fricken, there was an attempt to
minimize it, and he never mentioned his sexual liaison with Christel.
In Ernestine's case, he later felt guilt over his conduct, and acknowledged that he had been unfair. How could he not have felt similar guilt
in his relationship with Christel, and in his concealment of it from
Clara?
Yet another possibility might be his relationship with his sister-inlaw, Rosalie, whose death in 1833 precipitated his breakdown. His relationship with her was extraordinarily closebut he assured Clara that
it had been platonic. If that were not true, that, too, could have been
a source of anguish for him, and provided an overwhelming burden of
guilt in his relationship with Clara. Whatever the source may have been,
it was this profound sense of guilt coupled with despair over his future
that seem to have been at the core of his breakdown.
Letter of 6 March 1854 of Joseph Joachim to Woldemar Bargiel (Clara's stepbrother) in
Briefe von und an Joseph Joachim, ed. Johannes Joachim and Andreas Moser, 3 vols. (Berlin,
1911), I, p. 171.
This concept is expressed in Richarz's Ueber offentliche Irrenpflege (1844). See Eva Weissweiler,
Clara Schumann (Hamburg, 1990), p. 312.
6
Litzmann II, p. 309.
Entry in Richarz's diary of 11 April 1854 in Aribert Reimann and Franz Hermann Franken,
eds., Robert Schutnanns letzte Lebensjahre: Protokoll einer Krankheit (Berlin, 1994), p. 17.

Endenich 315

As time passed, Schumann decidedly improved in Endenich. The

report Clara received at the beginning of April noted that he often went
into the gardens. To Peters, this indicated that Schumann was beginning
to take an interest in the world around him. In many ways, he appeared
in better spirits, and even made an April Fool's Day joke. But Peters
noted that Schumann did not appear interested in carrying on a conversationobviously he did not realize that Schumann was never inclined to talk at length.
During the summer, Schumann had three "visitors." They were allowed only to observe him, and not permitted either to speak with or
be seen by him. In July, Mathilde Hartmann, a singer and friend of the
family, saw Schumann and later reported that he "looked very well," in
fact better than she had ever seen him. During the first half of August,
Julius Otto Grimm visited Endenich, and spent two hours there:
8

In no way did Herr Schumann express himself confusedly. The sound of

his voice was, as usual, somewhat soft. . . . When he was not speaking, he
continuously held his white handkerchief with his right hand to his lips. In
his eyes I detected no indication of insanityhis eye contact was steady,
directed towards Dr. Peters, and as friendly, gentle, and mild as in the past.
. . . Overall, Herr Schumann looked well and vigorousonly he appears
to have gained some weight. . . . His auditory delusions and agitated states
have, as you know, for a long time not been present. Dr. Peters mostly
complained about Herr Schumann's taciturnity which makes it difficult if
not impossible to investigate his inner life.

But there were obvious indications that Schumann was far from recovered:
Herr Schumann told Dr. Peters that the city which he saw was not Bonn.
Dr. Peters replied: "What is that? Aren't those the towers of the Bonn
cathedral?"Herr Schumann: Obviously. He knows very well that Beethoven's monument is near the Bonn cathedral. . . . Yesterday evening he
drank his wine, but towards the end suddenly stopped and said his wine
was poisoned. He poured the remainder on the floor. He does some
8

Letter of 27 July 1854 to Joachim from Brahms in Andreas Moser, ed., Johannes Brahms im
Briefwechsel mit Joseph Joachim, 2 vols. (Tutzing, 1974), I, p. 54.
9
Letter to Clara of 13 August 1854 in Litzmann II, p. 327.

3l6 S C H U M A N N

writing, but so illegibly that Dr. Richarz and Dr. Peters can only decipher
occasional words. . . . He has done no composing during this time.

It is important to note that the disturbing incident concerning the wine

and, apparently, the confused perception of Bonn were not witnessed
by Grimm; he was told of them. What Grimm saw was in many ways
Schumann as he always was, that is, "normal"including typical gestures (such as the hand before the mouth), the usual taciturnity, and his
illegible handwriting. But these typical characteristics of Schumann
were being perceived as abnormalities and continued evidence of his
mental illness. Unfortunately, Grimm did not know Schumann well
enough to be able to explain these idiosyncrasies to Peters.
Brahms saw Schumann on 19 August, and related his observations
to Clara in a letter two days later. He was told that Schumann, after
seeing a collection of portraits of famous men ("Schiller, Goethe, Copernicus, etc."), identified those whom he recognized, including several
whom he had met. But he also wrote that Schumann still had delusions
of hearing. And Brahms advised Clara in her correspondence with Endenich to write with more caution, lest the doctors consider her excessively optimistic. It is clear from Brahms's letter that he handled
himself well in what must have been trying circumstances. But his
youth and inexperience (Brahms was only twenty-one at the time) is
apparent. "My head was filled with what I wanted to tell and ask the
doctor [presumably, Peters]," he wrote, "but when I looked into his
cold face, not a word came to me."11
Late in May, Clara received a letter from Liszt accompanied by a
copy of his recently published Piano Sonata, dedicated to Schumann.
Unfortunately, Clara was finding both Liszt and his music more and
more distasteful, and described the sonata as "ghastly." Schumann did
not share her reaction. He was later able to examine the work at Endenich, and was "extremely pleased" by the dedication13 Liszt contin10

Ibid., p. 328.

Letter to Clara of 21 August 1854 in Berthold Litzmann, ed., Clara Schumann, Johannes
Brahms: Briefe aus den jahren 1853-1896, 2 vols. (Wiesbaden, 1970), I, p. 13.
Diary entry of 25 May 1854 in Litzmann II, p. 317.
According to Brahms's recollections. See Richard Heuberger, Erinnerungen an Johannes
Brahms, ed. Kurt Hofinann (Tutzing, 1971), p. 73.

Endenich 317
ued his support of Schumann in a number of ways. He performed
Genoveva in Weimar in April 1855, and wrote an emotional and laudatory article about Schumann for the Neue Zeitschnft fur Musik.
On their fourteenth wedding anniversary, Clara received a letter
(probably from Dr. Peters), and noted: "Robert doubts the existence
of myself and the children, because it has been so long since he has
received a letter from us. I cannot say how much this shocked me! The
doctor now asked me to write a few lines to him."14 To try to return
some balance into his life by removing all associations of his suicide
attempt appeared sensible for a time. But six months after his entry into
Endenich, Schumann must have been as perplexed as Clara by the absence of communication, and might easily have felt abandoned. She
wrote to him, and Schumann quickly responded. His letter shows no
signs of illness, and is filled with reminiscences of their life together,
and questions about her, the children, and their present way of life:
"Oh! if only I could see and speak to you again. . . . There is so
much I would like to knowwhat your life is like in general, where
you are living, and if you play as splendidly as in the past?" (14 September 1854).
This first letter led to four more over the next month. There is no
record of any additional letters to Clara for the year except for one of
27 November (published in fragmentary form and referring to Brahms
and his works), and one she received on 30 December (contents unknown), which Clara described in her diary as giving her both "joy
and grief at the same time."15 But the few extant letters to Clara after
12 October are not necessarily an indication that he did not write to
her more often. All correspondence was subject to the approval of the
staff at Endenich. Schumann's contact with the world outside of Endenich was assiduously monitored.
For much of the autumn of 1854, Clara was on tour, including concerts in Hanover, Leipzig, Weimar, Frankfurt, Hamburg, and Berlin. In
1855, she was on tour intermittently from January until July, and from
October until December. The following year included tours from January until March (Vienna, Prague, and Budapest); from April until July
Diary entry of 12 September 1854 in Litzmann II, p. 329.
Ibid, p. 361.

3l8 S C H U M A N N

1856 she fulfilled her long-held wish of performing in England. The

total is revealing: of the twenty-two-month period from October
1854when she decided to return to performing in publicuntil
Schumann's death in July 1856, Clara spent about 90 percent of it performing or preparing for tours. After Schumann's death, she noted for
her children's benefit that during his illness and confinement not only
had Schumann's capital remained untouched but she had been able to
add 5,000 talers to itnearly three times what Schumann would have
earned in his position at Dusseldorf during that period.
"I do it for him," Clara wrote on 17 October in her diary. But
there was no pressing financial need for her to perform. Yet, while not
calling into question what Clara represented as her selfless and noble
motivations, it is impossible not to take notice of her delight in returning full time to the career of concert artist. "Only now am I fully aware
of how splendid it is to be an artist," Clara wrote to Joachim, "as my
suffering and joy becomes expressed in divine music."'17 Despite the
grief Clara felt for her husband's condition, there is no denying that his
confinement provided her with the opportunity to do what she had
always wanted to do. She now appeared in a new light: "a consecrated,
faithful, and austere priestess," as Liszt extravagantly described her in
the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, "the gentle, suffering prophetess who,
breathing the air of heaven, remains bound to the earth only by her
tears."
During the autumn of 1854, Schumann was on the road to recovery.
Although he may not have written to Clara, during November and
December he broadened the number of his correspondents by writing
to Joachim (25 November) and Brahms (27 November and 15 December). The contents of these letters betray some nervousnessmost notably, Schumann at times jumps from one thought to another. To
Joachim, he confessed that he wished he had more strength, and complained of sleeplessness. The letters to Brahms display remarkable clarity,
16

Ibid., p. 349.
Written in reference to her piano-playing in general, before her return to giving concerts.
Letter of 21 September 1854 to Joachim in Joachim, Briefe, I, p. 211.
18
Quoted in Litzmann II, p. 351.

Endenich 319
and, at times, a wistfulness. "We have not seen one other since Hanover," he wrote on the 15th. "Those were happy times."19
Perhaps because of growing skepticism about Schumann's treatment,
on 22 December Joachim went alone to Endenich and met with him.
It had been nearly ten months since Schumann had met with any of
his friends, or, for that matter, with anyone outside of the staff at Endenich. It is not known what details of the visit Joachim supplied to
Clara. He later recalled Schumann's "friendly glance" and that "he
spoke a great deal and in a hurried manner, asking about friends and
events in the musical world."20 There was much that recalled the Schumann of old. But one incident in particular disturbed Joachim. "When
I wanted to leave, [Schumann] mysteriously led me into a corner (although we were not being watched) and said that he wanted to leave
the place. He had to leave Endenich, because the people there completely misunderstood him."
As the new year began, Clara made preparations for a concert tour
in Holland. Prior to her departure for Rotterdam, she received on 8
January "a splendid letter from Robert. . . . He writes so beautifully; in
the best of health he could not have written better. It is as if he were
completely recovered." Joachim may have not told Clara of Schumann's desire to leave Endenich, wishing to spare her additional anxiety.
But, given their intimacy, it is unlikely that he would not have mentioned the matter to Brahms. Perhaps for that reason, Brahms visited
Schumann on the nth. He described him to Clara as "well and cheerful," and played several of his compositions for him.23 As Clara left
Dusseldorf on the I5th, the outlook for Schumann seemed much
improved.
But Schumann's perception of his own situation must have appeared
less hopeful. Although there is no record of it, perhaps he mentioned
to Brahms as well his desire to leave Endenich. On the 26th, while in
19

20

Letter to Brahms of 15 December 1854 in Clara/Brahms Briefe, I, p. 53.

Eismann, pp. 19293.
Ibid., p. 193.

22

23

Litzmann II, p. 362.

Ibid.

320 S C H U M A N N

Utrecht, Clara received a letter from Schumann, "which so disturbed

me, that I spent the entire night in tears."24 What seems to have bothered Clara was not that Schumann's letter was disjointed or gave indication of mental stress but rather his anxiety about the future and his
desire to see his family again. His situation was beginning to frighten
him. "My Clara," he wrote, "I feel as if something dreadful lies before
me. What sorrowif I never see you and the children again!"25 The
physicians at Endenich as well as Schumann's wife and friends interpreted his remarks as hinting at another attempt at suicide. But they
seem instead to refer to his dissatisfaction with Endenich and concern
over his treatment there.
Clara was perceptive, strong-willed, and independent. Capable of
managing both a household and her own successful concert career, it
would appear that Schumann could not have had a more potent ally.
Yet, she merely continued with her tour. It was Brahms who was Schumann's next visitor. He arrived on 24 Februarymore than a month
after Schumann's letter to Claraand spent four hours with him. Schumann was delighted with the present of some cigars, and noted that he
had not had any since Joachim s visit. Then he told Brahms that he did
not like "to ask the doctors for anything. . . . 'Clara has certainly often
sent me some, but I do not receive them.' " Brahms suggested that
Schumann write more often to her. "I would love todaily, always,"
Schumann replied, "if only I had paper."27 And Brahms confirmed that
Schumann truly had none. Brahms noted that Schumann said he was
composing fugues. In fact, Schumann had turned to writing music during the winter of 185455. His primary project appears to have been a
set of piano accompaniments for Paganini's Capricesa return to his
youthful interests (and a project begun in October 1853). That he was
writing contrapuntal music is revealing. So often in the past, contrapuntal studies had provided a sense of stability.
If Clara had been unaware of Schumann's wish to leave Endenich,
she now learned of it from Brahms. "I have nothing sad to tell you,"
24
25

Ibid., p. 364.
Ibid.
Letter to Clara of 23 and 24 February 1855 in Clara/Brahms Briefe, I, p. 79.

27

Ibid. p. 80.

Endenich 321
Brahms informed her, "except that at times he expressed very forcefully
his desire to be out of there. He spoke quietly, because he is frightened
28
of the doctors." Schumann wrote to Brahms on 11 March, and once
again brought up his wish to leave Endenich, emphatically noting that
he needed to get "completely away from here! For over a yearsince
4 March 1854exactly the same kind of life." He even mentioned two
clinics as possibilities. It was perhaps this letter that finally prompted
Brahms and Clara to take action. Gradually there was an acknowledgementnot of the gravity of the situation, but at least of Schumann's
wishes. In the spring, Brahms began to examine the possibility of Schumann being transferred to another asylum.
Schumann wrote again to Brahms on 20 March, quite lucidly, discussing in some detail Brahms's Second Piano Sonata. In his previous
letter, Schumann had requested more music paper, as well as a copy of
Paganini's Caprices. Now he was making good progress on his work: "I
have already harmonized several of them (five). But it is more difficult
work than my earlier free arrangements [op. 10]. So often the bass is
present in such a distinctive manner in the violin." Schumann also
prepared an arrangement for piano four-hands of Joachim's Overture to
Henry IV op. 7. After Schumann's death, Joachim saw a portion of this
arrangement, as well as "many complicated musical studies," and noted
that Schumann had written them "correctly."29 Schumann asked as well
for an atlasquite possibly to aid in his search for another clinic. Joachimwho had seen Schumann's recent letters to Claranow felt that
the reports Clara had been receiving from Endenich were, at best, pessimistic. "I can not accept the doctor's words as those of an absolute
oracle," he wrote to Clara on 18 March.30
On 2 April, Brahms met again with Schumann. Once more, Schumann spoke of his wish to leave Endenich. What would have proved
invaluable at this point was an evaluation of Schumann by physicians
not associated with Endenich. That was not to occur, butperhaps
because of the quandary she was inClara did welcome the offer of
Bettina von Arnim to visit Schumann. Bettina (she was generally

29

Ibid., p. 84.
Letter of 8 August 1856 to Gisela von Arnim in Joachim, Briefe, I, p. 364.
Letter of 18 March 1855 in Ibid,, I, p. 270.

322 S C H U M A N N

referred to by her first name) was in many ways the grande dame of
German letters. Born in 1785, she had been closely associated with the
Heidelberg phase of German Romanticism. Her brother was Clemens
Brentano; in 1811 she married his best friend (and collaborator on The
Youth's Magic Horn) Ludwig Achim von Arnim. By means of her great
beauty, enthusiasm, and unconventional intellect, she had fervently attached herself to a number of the leading figures of her day, most notably Beethoven and Goethe. They had been charmed by her, and she
had published adoring and highly embroidered portraits of them.
For decades, Schumann had been fascinated by Bettina. But they did
not meet until October 1853, when she visited Dusseldorf with her
daughter, Gisela. During her visit she heard with pleasure several of
Schumann's most recent works. Clara, however, was not an admirer of
Bettinawho, in the 1830s, had broadly criticized Clara's musicianship.
After Bettina's visit, Clara noted in the diary: "I appear not to have
displeased herat least so she told meafter which she gazed upon
me for a long time and held my hand in hers."31 At some point
probably in early April 1855Bettina offered to visit Schumann at Endenich. On 13 April, Clara wrote to Bettina thanking her, and telling
her that she had written to Schumann to let him know of the coming
visit.
Schumann wrote to Clara on 5 Mayit was to be his last letter to
herwith no mention of Bettina's visit, but with kind words about
Brahms's forthcoming birthday on the 7th. On the 8th, Clara received
word from Endenich that Schumann was having "restless days, lacked
sufficient sleep, and speaks once again of voices," symptoms which
Clara attributed to overwork.32 It is not known at what point Bettina
visited Schumann. But it must have been prior to the "restless days"
(or perhaps they lasted but a short length of time), for he appeared quite
healthy to Bettina during her visit. In fact, on the basis of what she had
seen, she wrote to Clara, recommending that Schumann return home.
Bettina had been deeply disturbed by her visit to Endenich. Schumann was the "only rational human being" in Endenich, she concluded,
Entry of 29 October 1853 in Litzmann II, p. 284.
Ibid., p. 374-

Endenich 323
and she expressed her determination to do all she could "to free poor
Schumann as soon as possible from his imprisonment."33 The asylum,
she wrote to Clara, was a "desolate building without signs of life," but
Schumann's face had "lit up with joy" as she walked to meet him.34
They discussed "everything which was of interest to him," and to Bettina it seemed clear that "his surprising illness was only an attack of
nerves which would have ended sooner if he had been better understood or if there had been any insight into his inner nature."35 She went
on to attack the director of the clinic, describing Richarz as a "hypochondriac, himself ill in body and spirit."36 In Bettina's eyes, Richarz
completely misunderstood Schumann, and perceived what she described as Schumann's "nobility of soul" more as an indication of his
illness.37 She wrote as well that she was delighted to know that Clara
was awaiting Schumann's return to his family "very soon," and suggested that to avert the possible shock of the abrupt change, some initial
contact with his children might prove beneficial.38 Although not mentioned by Bettina, it seems likely that Schumann revealed to her his
apprehensions and concerns. The similarity of her evaluation of Schumann's situation to Schumann's own perception of it are too striking to
be coincidental.
Bettina's letter hardly brought welcome news to Clara. Despite Schumann's letters and favorable reports from friends who had seen him, for
months there had been no discussion of the possibility of Schumann
returning home. Had his health been restored? Despite the doctors'
assertions to the contrary, Bettina believed so. It would seem that now,
of all times, a visit by Clara to Schumann would resolve the issue.
But it is clear that by this stage of his confinement she had little desire to see him, even if she refused to admit it to herself. Since his
removal to Endenich, Clara had established a new life for herself, one
Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, Aus siebzig Jahren (Stuttgart, 1897), pp. 1523.
Litzmann II, p. 375.
Ibid., pp. 375-76.
Weissweiler, Clara Schumann, p. 333.
Litzmann II, p. 376.
38

Ibid.

324 S C H U M A N N

of independence as a concert artist. It was what she had always wanted.

Schumann's return, particularly in a state of only partial recovery, would
have brought it all to an end.
As Clara's concert career had grown, so had her friendship and familiarity with Joachim and Brahms. She performed regularly with Joachim, both publicly and privately, often including works by Schumann
on the program. But it was her friendship with Brahms that truly grew
in intimacy. They spent much time together, traveling, taking walks, as
well as performing music. There can be no doubt that Brahms fell in
love with her despite their difference in age (Clara was fourteen years
older). "I love her and am under her spell," he confessed to Joachim,
"I often have to restrain myself forcibly from just quietly putting my
arms around her."39 It is not known whether Clara returned that
love with the same intensity, but it is clear that her attachment to him
was profound and distinctive. There is no indication of sexual intimacy.
But Brahms, who never married, always remained deeply devoted
to her.
In order to evaluate Bettina's assessment, it was decided that Joachim
would visit Schumann. But even before seeing him, Joachim admitted
to Brahms that he was opposed to moving Schumann, primarily because
Richarz had not diagnosed Schumann as "incurable," and because Schumann had decidedly improved during the months he had been at Endenich.40 "Early this morning I saw the dear master," Joachim wrote
to Clara, "and he was in good spirits and obviously delighted by my
visit. . . . We often laughed heartilyand he is glad that I will be returning with Johannes to play him the Paganini Etudes [Schumann's
accompaniments for the Caprices]."41 There can be no doubt of Joa39

Letter of 19 June 1854 in Artur Holde, "Suppressed Passages in the Brahms-Joachim

Correspondence Published for the First Time," The Musical Quarterly XLV (1959), p. 314.
40
Letter to Brahms of [about 17 May 1855] in Brahms Briefivechsel, I, p. 109.
Letter of [May 1855] in Joachim, Briefe, I, p. 287. But Joachims cheerful letter is contradicted by what he later told the music critic Eduard Hanslick. He informed Hanslick that
he had visited Schumann three times during his years in Endenich, and that the last two
times he saw him (which would include the recent visit at Clara's request) Schumann had
deteriorated both in mind and body. Perhaps Joachim was attempting to place Schumann in
the most favorable light possible to Clara. According to Litzmann, after returning from his
visit, Joachim described Schumann as being "very agitated," and told Clara that the doctors
were opposed to him being moved elsewhere (p. 376).

Endenich 325
chim's good intentions. Apparently he also spoke with a Dr. Wolf in
Bonn to gain further insight into Schumann's condition. But even prior
to seeing Schumann, Joachim was in favor of Clara meeting privately
with Richarz.
In order to resolve the matter, a few days later Clara finally met with
Dr. Richarz in Bruhl, a city about fifteen miles from Endenich. It was
their first meeting. Richarz assured her of his firm belief that Schumann
would be restored to health but not for some time. For that reason, he
needed to remain in Endenich at least until the winter. Clara was satisfied. On 26 July, she wrote to Joachim, telling him "God willing,
Robert and I will visit you [later this year, when a cure has been
affected]."42
Schumann eventually wrote to Bettina, thanking her for her visit,
noting that he had been unable to write to her sooner, because he had
been "not well for some time."43 She replied (via Joachim), warmly
thanking him. And there the incident ended. Schumann remained in
Endenich, Bettina's advice being dismissed as perhaps well intentioned,
but that of an amateur, misinformed and misguided. Clara wrote to her
on 25 May, thanking her coldly, and informing her that her perception
of the situation had not been accurate. Her visit only stirred up ill will.
After Schumann's death, Brahms made a point of noting the "malicious
rumors" that had circulated around Clara"from Bettina, for
example."44
Although no one realized it at the time, Bettina von Arnim's intervention had been Schumann's last hope. The rejection of her advice
would ultimately lead to tragedy. And to dismiss it as well intentioned
but amateurish was to disregard her enlightened perception of the mentally ill. The suicide in 1806 of her friend, the writer Caroline von
Giinderode, had first awakened her concern. She took an interest as
well in the madness of Holderlin and the painter Carl Blechen, in
Blechen's case attempting to raise money to assist him. "How can it be
possible that the spirit which once animated this great artist will totally

42
43

Letter of 26 July [1855] in Ibid., I, p. 290.

Letter (undated) in Anonymous, "Robert Schumann and Bettina von Arnim," Monthly
Musical Record LIII (1928), p. 230.
44

Letter to J. O. Grimm of [September 1856] in Johannes Brahms, Johannes Brahms im Briefwechsel mit j. O. Grimm, ed. Richard Barth (Tutzing, 1974), p. 45.

326 S C H U M A N N

vanish?" she wrote in one of her letters of solicitation.45 When she

learned of Schumann's plight, it probably seemed only natural to her
to attempt to be of assistance.
Over the summer, Schumann's condition appeared to worsen. On 4
September, Clara wrote to him but received no reply. Then, on the
10th, she received a letter from Richarz, removing "all hope of a complete recovery."46 "I no longer know what to think," Clara wrote in
the diary.47 Now that Richarz had concluded that a full recovery was
not possible, it would seem that there was no longer any reason for
Schumann to remain in Endenich. It was Richarz's policy to release
those inmates who he felt could not be cured. Such had been the case
with Alfred Rethel. Rethel, an artist whom Schumann had met in 1849,
had suffered a nervous breakdown, and from 24 May 1853 until 2 May
1854 had been a patient at Endenich. He had been released (with the
diagnosis: "Dementia, general paralysis") when it had been determined
that recovery would be impossible. But perhaps Richarz felt that in
Schumann's case, although it was no longer a question of full recovery,
some progress still could be made. It now appeared that the only possibility of granting Schumann's wish of leaving Endenich would be as
a result of an attempt to save money. In September and again in the
spring of 1856, Clara considered transferring Schumann to another institution because of what was felt to be the excessive cost of Endenich
this despite the repeated offer from friends in Leipzig to establish a fund
to bear the expense of Schumann's confinement.
What had happened to Schumann during the summer of 1855? Why
were there no visitors? What had led to Richarz's determination that
there was no longer any possibility of curing Schumann when, only
four months earlier, he had spoken to Clara of a full recovery? Richarz's
autopsy reports provide some clues. One report was supplied at Wasielewski's request for his biography of Schumann. The other was published as a brief article by Richarz in 1873.48 The autopsy was
45

46
47

48

Paul O. Rave, Karl Blechen (Berlin, 1940), p. 49.

Apparently Richarz's words. Litzmann II, p. 387.
Ibid.

Richarz's full autopsy report (discovered in 1973) is discussed in Franz Hermann Franken,
Die Krankheiten grosser Komponisten, 3 vols. (Wilhelmshaven, 1991).

Endenich 327
considered crucial by Richarz in determining a diagnosis, and he does
produce a diagnosis, of sorts, for Schumann. Unfortunately, the autopsy
report itself is of little value. "There are many vague and contradictory
statements [in it]," a recent, expert evaluation concluded, "and no one
today would accept these findings as being reliable."49
After Schumann's death, Richarz concluded that his illness had been
present for "many years," and diagnosed Schumann as having "incomplete general paralysis," the result of a "slow, but irreversible and progressive deterioration in organisation and strength of the entire nervous
system."50 Richarz attributed this deterioration to "overexertion"that
is, " 'immoderate mental, especially artistic productivity' had 'exhausted
the substance of psychically active central components of the nervous
system.' "5I Richarz traced Schumann's hallucinations to "issues of the
artistic value of his own work. He would grow indignant. The voices
apparently criticized his capabilities as a musician."52 Always present was
what Richarz referred to as Schumann's "melancholic depression."53
"As a result of frequently refusing all nourishment," Richarz concluded,
"[Schumann's] condition -worsened, and consequently he died in a state
of extreme emaciation."54
Richarz's diagnosiscombined with other details of Schumann's
conditionhas led to numerous attempts to determine a more precise
diagnosis of Schumann's illness. Two psychiatric diagnoses have garnered the most support: schizophrenia and bipolar depression. Schizophrenia does not refer here, as has been commonly believed, to multiple
personalities; it is not a question of Schumann having had more than
one personality, his Eusebius and Florestan side, for example. Schizophrenia is a thinking disorderboth the thought process and content
can be affectedcharacterized by difficulty with attention and in forming concepts. As a result, reality becomes severely distorted, and this
distortion often is accompanied by delusions and hallucinations. As in
49

Peter Ostwald, Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius (Boston, 1985), p. 296.
W, p. 507; Ostwald, pp. 2989.
Ostwald, p. 299.

52

From Richarz's 1873 article, quoted in Ibid., p. 287.

53 .
W, p. 507.
54,..,
Ibid., p. 509.

328 S C H U M A N N

Schumann's case, auditory hallucinations can be encountered. Schizophrenic communications often appear unintelligible with wording that
seems abruptly to jump from one idea to another, and ideas that often
seem to appear unrelated.
Bipolar depression (also known as manic-depression) is an affective
that is, an emotional or mooddisorder. It produces alternations of
depression with mania. Throughout his life, Schumann suffered from
many of the symptoms of depression: extreme sadness, doubt, and pessimism about the future (probably a result of the helplessness he felt at
achieving his goals), dulled response to the world around him, and sleep
disturbances. Mania, on the other hand, is characterized by excessive
elation. Manic periods in Schumann's life appear less noticeably, although instances might include periods of inspired composition (such
as the creation of the First Symphony in four days). Today, mania is
perceived not necessarily as a time of euphoria but as a defense against
a deeply ingrained depression. Severe depression often leads to a sense
of hopelessness and a strong and natural desire to escape from it. For
that reason, depression and suicide are often closely related.
Neither the diagnoses of schizophrenia nor bipolar depression adequately explain Schumann's condition. If Schumann were schizophrenic, how can his power of communication and accurate perception
of the world be explained? Richarz himself reported that Schumann's
"self-awareness was beclouded, distorted, but not destroyed ... he was
not alienated from himself, not transformed."55 If Schumann suffered
from bipolar depression, what explanation can be offered for his hallucinations or vertigo? Such discrepancies led to what became perhaps
the most commonly accepted interpretation of Schumann's illnessthat
he had syphilis.
The initial, overt symptoms of syphilissores on the genitalsdisappear within a short period of time. But for much of the nineteenth
century it was not known that, with the disappearance of the sores, the
disease itself had not ended. A new stage had been entered, and the
central nervous system was attacked. Over a considerable period of
timeoften several decadesnerve cells were affected, leading to mental deterioration, paralysis, and, ultimately, death. The entire process and
From Richarz's 1873 article, quoted in Ostwald, p. 300.

Endenich 329
the resulting disorder is referred to as tertiary syphilis (or general paresis). Schumann possessed a number of the symptoms associated with
tertiary syphilis, including hallucinations, difficulty enunciating and
moving, and, apparently, a gradual mental collapse. But again there are
symptoms of Schumann's conditionhis anxiety attacks, for example
that have no relation to tertiary syphilis.
Those who assume that Schumann did have syphilis believe confirmation has been supplied by published excerpts from a diary maintained
by Richarz. On 12 September 1855, Richarz recorded that Schumann
noted that in 1831 he had had syphilis and for treatment had taken
arsenic. This occurred at the time of Schumann's affair with Christel.
In the midst of the affair, Schumann's diary made several references to
a "painful wound" he had suffered, and there is now speculation that
the wound was an indication of the onset of the disease.56 But whether
this was a reference to a penile lesion, often an initial indication of
syphilis, is uncertain. There are no references in the diary to the secondary stages of the disease. That Schumann thought he had syphilis is
merely an indication of his belief, and not proof of his infection. Not
until 1906 was a test developed to determine the presence of syphilis.
In Richarz's diary, many of the overt symptoms associated with the
advanced stages of syphilis are noted. But his autopsy report does not
give any indication of an "infectious process," such as would be associated with the disease.
In the absence of conclusive evidence, all attempts to diagnose Schumann today must remain conjectural. The later symptoms, which have
been used as a basis for asserting that he had syphilis, simply do not
provide the proof necessary. Many can be associated with other illnesses,
such as malnutrition (or the stroke Schumann believed he may have
suffered on 30 July 1853). Schumann may have had syphilisaccording
to Richarz, he believed he did. And Richarz may himself have become
convinced that Schumann was syphilitic, but concealed it in order to
Entry of 24 May 1831 in Tgb I, p. 332. I should like to thank Dr. George T. Ho of
Urological Associates (Columbus, OH) for kindly providing me with his evaluation of Schumann's symptoms. If Schumann had syphilis, Clara could have acted as a carrier (similar to
"Typhoid Mary"), and not necessarily suffered from the disease herself. Transmission of
syphilis to at least one of their children would not have been unexpected, but there is
insufficient medical evidence.

330 S C H U M A N N

spare Schumann's family the shame and humiliation associated with the
disease. But that does not explain the crises of 1833 and 1844 (or the
attempt at suicide in 1854). Schumann's mental illness appears more
complex, and can not be resolved by the presence of syphilis alone, or
by a single mental disorder, for symptoms of several were present. The
diagnosis presented by Dr. Peter Ostwald seems most convincing: that
Schumann suffered from a major affective disorder"severe, recurring
depressive episodes," with indications of mania (bipolar depression).57
What is clear is that Schumann's mental disorder was exacerbated by
the treatment he received at Endenich.
It now appears that Bettina von Arnim's assessment of Schumann's
situation was in many ways accurate: Richarz totally misunderstood the
nature of Schumann's illness. In general, Richarz associated mental illness with what he perceived as sinful behavior. This was in keeping
with his diagnosis of "incomplete general paralysis"French psychiatrists had attributed the condition to " 'moral' excesses such as alcoholism, 'violent passions,' or sexual overindulgence."5 For a cure,
Richarz's approach was to deal with the body (hence his concern with
an autopsy). Mental problems would then heal of their own accord.
Treatment included cold baths, copper- and opium-based medication,
and strict regulation of diet. In an attempt to purify the patient's system,
an increasing regimen of laxatives and diuretics preceded by substantial
meals, heavy in calories, were prescribed. Reacting strongly to this barbaric treatment, several patients protested with hunger strikes. The staff
responded with a number of tortuous devices intended to force them
to eat.59 In desperation, patients were restrained and force-fed (with a
diet of port wine and meat extract) by means of enemas.
Schumann may have been among the patients who refused to eat.
Richarz himself attributed Schumann's death "in a state of extreme
emaciation" to his "frequently refusing all nourishment." It would also
explain why shortly before his death Clara fed him wine and jellied
consomme, the type of fare, according to Clara, he had been taking for
Ostwald, p. 303.
Ibid., p. 299.

''

In an article written in 1871, Richarz revealed "very cautiously ... an epidemic of suicides
by self-starvation" (Ostwald, p. 278). Schumann was not mentioned.

Endenich 331
weeks. The published extracts from Richarz's diary, unfortunately, give
little information about Schumann's diet or eating habits. There is no
mention of Schumann starving himself.
The diary is equally silent concerning the crude and often cruel
methods of treatment advocated at Endenich. Only once, for example,
is mention made of forcible restraintthe use of a straitjacket not long
after Schumann's arrival (on 20 April 1854). But Schumann must soon
have recognized Richarz's lack of understanding and sympathy. Several
incidences of it are found in the diary. On one occasion, apparently as
punishment for unacceptable behavior, all of Schumann's books, writings, and writing materials were confiscated without his knowledge.
The next day, he was upset and disturbed by the loss of what he described as "his property"a statement so preposterous in Richarz's eyes
that he felt obliged to make note of it. It is difficult to reconcile the
portrait of Schumann found in Richarz's diarySchumann's violence,
sleeplessness, unintelligible mumbles, and hallucinationswith his correspondence and the reports of those who visited him. Immersed in the
world of Endenich, Schumann seemed to become a different person.
Most notable is the aggressive turn in his behavior after the visits of
Bettina von Arnim and Joachimthat is, probably after he had lost
hope of leaving the institution. On 25 July, Richarz reported that he
struck one of his attendants. On 8 September, all attempts to persuade
him to write to his wife were fruitless. That autumn, Schumann complained about his food and drink, complaints that were to crop up
intermittently in Richarz's diary. These seem to have been intended as
acts of defiance by Schumann, an angry response to what he probably
perceived as a hopeless situation. By the spring of 1856, the aggressiveness had been replaced by resignation and preparation for his end: on
16 and 17 April, he burned Clara's letters and other material.
In addition to detailing Schumann's decline, Richarz's jottings reveal
much about himself. What is most striking is the absence of compassion
and sensitivity. Not only was no attempt made to comprehend Schumann's temperament, little interest was shown in it. And, invariably,
what Richarz saw in Schumann displeased him. After hearing Schumann play the piano early in May 1855, Richarz dismissed it as "very

60

Entries of 10 and 11 October 1855 in Reimann and Franken, pp. 2122.

332 S C H U M A N N

wild and incoherent"perhaps it was, but then hostile critics had been
describing Schumann's music in similar terms for decades.
Much has been made of the enlightened nature of Richarz's medical
practiceand there can be little doubt that on the surface it was far
more tolerant than that of many in his profession, particularly that found
in state institutions. But, when compared to progressive physicians in
his field, Richarz fares poorly. Dr. Emile Blanche, a French contemporary of Richarz, managed an asylum in Paris among whose inmates
were the poets Gerard de Nerval and Antoni Deschamps. Blanche focused on the mental and spiritual basis of their illness, and encouraged
creativity as a means for a cure. Such an approach would not have found
favor with Richarz, who did not encourage the artistic endeavors of
his patients but, rather, seemed convinced of their detrimental affect.
"[Schumann] wrote yesterday a clear and coherent letter to the doctors," noted Richarz, "in which he asks permission to play the piano,
enumerating in a somewhat feeble-minded manner the composers he
wishes to play." Such comments reveal more than a lack of sensitivity;
they demonstrate the arrogance and narrow-mindedness that so angered
Bettina von Arnim. As a result of his bias, Richarz's observation of
Schumann tended to emphasize and, at times, distort those aspects of
Schumann's behavior that confirmed his own diagnosis.
Based on his correspondence and the reports of those outside of
Endenich, for a period of eight monthsroughly from October 1854
until May 1855Schumann returned sufficiently to health to justify his
removal from Endenich. Even if he had been suffering from syphilis at
the time and had not long to live, there can be no doubt that the
treatment he received at Endenich was harmful to recovery from his
depressive state. More than a year after he had first told Joachim of his
wish to leave Endenich, Schumann probably felt abandoned. Because
he was completely at the mercy of his physicians and unable to control
his treatment, he may have realized that the only aspect of his existence
still remaining under his control was whether to live or to die. If Schumann were among those inmates who starved themselves, by choosing
62

Entry of 8 May 1855 in Ibid., p. 20.

Entry of 29 April 1856 in Ibid., p. 23.

Endenich 333
to die, he was not only escaping the horrors of his life but also exercising
the only authority left to him.
Brahms visited Schumann twice in 1856. During a visit in April, he
found him with an atlas, arranging names of cities and rivers in alphabetical order: "We sat down, it became increasingly painful for me . . .
he spoke continually, but I understood nothing . . . often he only babbled, something like bababadadada. . . . He understood me with difficulty, and only partially." 63 He returned on Schumann's birthday in
June, bringing with him a larger atlas that Schumann had requested. To
Clara, Brahms wrote that Schumann took "little notice of him, but
rather constantly studied the atlas."64 Later that month, while on tour
in England, Clara received a telegram from Endenich, informing her
that Schumann was "totally debilitated," but "still conscious."65
She arrived in Diisseldorf on 6 July, aware of the seriousness of Schumann's condition but still not realizing how close he was to death. On
the 14th, she traveled to Bonn and spoke with Richarz, who informed
her that "he could not promise [Schumann] an additional year of life."
Richarz's statement is so extraordinary, given what is known of Schumann's state at the time, that there has been speculation that it was
intended to absolve him of any responsibility for Schumann's condition.
Nine days later, Clara received a telegram informing her that Schumann
was dying.
She saw Schumann on the evening of the 27th, only after disregarding the objections of Brahms and the physicians (who wanted to spare
her the shock). "He smiled at me and, with great exertion (he no longer
has full control of his limbs), placed his arm around me. I will never
forget it. ... He spoke with spirits, so it seemed, and would not permit
anyone around him for long, or he would become restless. It was nearly
impossible to understand him any longer." 67 Schumann's disorientation
and torment continued the next day, much of which Clara and Brahms
Letter of [25 April 1856] in Brahms Briefwechsel, I, pp. 134-35.
64 .
Diary entry of II June 1856 in Litzmann II, p. 413.
66

Nancy B. Reich, Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca, NY, 1985), p. 150.
Clara's words, apparently quoting Richarz, in Litzmann II, p. 413.
Ibid., p. 414.

334 * S C H U M A N N

spent with him, either in his room or observing him. "He suffered
terribly, although the doctor said differently. His limbs were in continual
convulsions. His speaking was often very vehement. Ah! I prayed to
God to release him, because I loved him so. ... His sole nourishment
for weeks had been some wine and jellied consomme. Today I gave it
to him, and he took it with the happiest expression. He licked the wine
from my fingers." Schumann died in his sleep on the 29th at four in
the afternoon. Clara saw him a half hour later: "I stood by the corpse
of my dearly beloved husband and was at peace; all my feelings went
in thanks to God that he was finally free."69 The funeral followed
quickly, four days later. Brahms and Joachim were present, as was Ferdinand Hiller who arrived from Cologne.
To many, Schumann's passing provided a sense of relief and resolution. For nearly two and a half years, to those outside of Endenich it
had seemed as if he were already dead. There was now, wrote Stephen
Heller, "no more reason to hope for improvement to what had become
a miserable existence."70 But while death released Schumann from his
suffering, that of the Schumann family continued. In 1871, Clara and
Robert's son, Ludwig (he was twenty-three at the time), was diagnosed
insane. He entered the state asylum in Colditz two years later. Clara
first visited him at his request in 1875, and again the following year
visits that "left her feeling miserable for weeks."71 There are no records
of any visits after 1876. Ludwig died twenty-three years later, on 9
January 1899. "The shadows closed more and more around him," recalled his sister Eugenie, "and at last he became, as my mother often
said in deep distress, 'buried alive.' "72

68
6s

Ibid., pp. 41415.

Ibid.

Letter to Ferdinand Hiller of 30 August 1856 in Aus Ferdinand Millers Briejwechsel (18261861), ed. Reinhold Sietz (Cologne, 1958), p. 118.
Reich, p. 166.
Eugenie Schumann, The Memoirs of Eugenie Schumann (New York, 1927), p. 65.

E P I L O G U E

"The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood

Come, let us live with our children, that all things may be better
here on earth.
Friedrich Froebel

RITE TO MB IN DETAIL ABOUT THE CHILDREN," SCHU-

mann asked Clara in his first letter to her after being admitted to Endenich (14 September 1854). In succeeding letters he
inquired about them regularly, and was particularly interested in their
continued musical developmentwhether they were playing Beethoven, Mozart, and his own Album for the Young. He mentioned writing
letters to them as well, although these do not appear to have survived.
Schumann deeply loved his children, and certainly one of the greatest
sacrifices he had to endure while at Endenich was being separated from
them. "I always tell my wife that it is not possible to have too many
children," he once wrote to Mendelssohn. "It is the greatest blessing
that can happen to us on earth" ([November 1845]). It was his hope
that after his death his work as a composer would ensure a "loving
remembrance" for them.
Schumann delighted in being with his children. He read to them,
went on walks with them, picked flowers with them, and accompanied
them on sledding expeditions. While this may not seem all that unusual
Diary entry of June 1843 in Tgb II, p. 266.

335

336 S C H U M A N N

by modern standards, it would not have been common for fathers in

the Germany of Schumann's day to participate so actively in their children's lives. His interest in them went well beyond play and recreational
activities. He taught their eldest child, Marie, how to count. He compiled a list of authors whom they should read as they grew up, including
Jean Paul, Goethe, Shakespeare, Byron, Sophocles, and Homer. He
noted with pleasure the children's efforts at writing poetry, and worked
with them on rhyming words. Not surprisingly, music was also an important part of their lives. When Marie was four, he began to teach her
the keys on the pianothe children later studied the piano with their
mother and with other instructors. And there were collaborative artistic
projects. For Clara's birthday in 1852, Schumann wrote a little song
with Marie, using as a basis a poem she had written.
Not long after Marie's birth, Schumann noted with interest the effect
of music on her: when she was restless, Clara's piano-playing would
soothe her. He decided to maintain as a memorial a record of her first
year of lifeaddressing it to her, and including in it melodies that had
often been played to her. Four years later, he decided to create a booklet
in a similar manner for all the children. He entitled it "A Little Book
of Memories For Our Children," and made the first entry in it on 23
February 1846. The book contains a record of their births, a listing of
their godparents, and incidents that he wanted them to remember. He
discussed the death of their brother Emil, the death of Mendelssohn
("an irreparable loss"), their flight from Dresden during the insurrection
in 1849, and their stay in nearby Kreischa, with its "beautiful trees and
fields, springs and fountains, the cuckoo, the lilies of the valley."2 But
also included were everyday occurrences, including statements of theirs
that struck his fancysuch as Marie's request that God "throw down
a few stars" for her.3 The entry for 7 June 1846 reads: "Papa found (for
the first time in his life) a bird's nest. Therefore, patience dear children.
What one has not accomplished in thirty-six years, one may yet accomplish on the last day before entering upon the thirty-seventh, as to
my great pleasure I did today."4
Eugenie Schumann, The Memoirs of Eugenie Schumann (London, 1927), pp. 214, 216.
Ibid., p. 207.
Ibid., p. 209.

"The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood 337

Although the booklet is entirely about his children, it is Schumann's
personality that animates it. It would be a mistake to regard his efforts
simply as those of a doting father or to perceive what he has written as
a display of btirgerlich contentment. Rather, the booklet documents
Schumann's periodic immersion into the world of his children. While
observing them, he was able to observe himself. "Happy childhood
one lives it anew in one's children," he noted in 1846 in the diary.5 It
was not just the joys that were relived: "Grief when a good child tells
a lie for the first time."
In observing his children and, by recollection, reliving aspects of his
own childhood, Schumann was attempting to recapture and retain for
himself the essence of an idealized childhood, one that could serve as
a source of inspiration for his work. Similar ideas were current in painting (such as those of Philipp Otto Runge) and literature (Jean Paul,
Novalis, and Wackenroder). "In every child is found a wondrous
depth," Schumann wrote in 18337 During his courtship of Clara, he
occasionally called her a child, at which Clara took offense, determined
to assert her maturity. But it had been intended by Schumann as perhaps
the ultimate complimentas he explained, "the most beautiful word"
he could have chosen to address her (11 May 1838).
Schumann's interest in childhood first found musical expression in
the Kinderszenen op. 15. Despite its simplicity, it was a work revolutionary in concept. Liszt played the pieces for his daughter (three years
old at the time) with delight. Henriette Voigt was charmed by them
and wrote poems to accompany each one. But critical reaction at first
was not favorable. In an 1839 review, Ludwig Rellstab castigated the
work, writing that the pieces were too demanding technically for children, and wondering whether Schumann intended the Kinderszenen as
a joke. Schumann was deeply offended by Rellstab's review, and disturbed that he missed the entire point of the pieces. They had been
created not for children, but as a re-creation of childhood for adults.
The titles, as always, Schumann claimed to have added after the music
had been composed and as a guide to its interpretation. Rellstab found

Entry of 13 April 1846 in Tgb II, p. 400.

Memoirs, p. 212.
In "Aus Meister Raros, Florestans und Eusebius' Denk- und Dichtbuchlein" in JS, p. 30.

338 S C H U M A N N

them nonsensical and inappropriate. But they provide the key to Schumann's intentions: they represent not just the world of childhood with
its fun and games, but also Schumann's perception of childhood. The
next-to-last piece in the set is entitled "Child Falling Asleep." It leads
directly into the final piece, "The Poet Speaks." In Schumann's mind,
the child and the poet are the same personthe poet representing the
child in its natural and unconscious state.
Contemporaries invariably noted the childlike side of Schumann. But
there could be perils associated with it. During his visit to Vienna in
1846-47, Marie (who was five) and Elise (who was not yet four) went
along. Marie recalled that:
Mama was out and Papa asked us whether we could remember the way to
Dr. Fischhof's house. We confidently answered, "Yes!," and he gave us a
letter to take to this gentleman, whose quarters were in the same block of
houses as ours, in the Grundlhof, but not quite easy to find. We became
suddenly aware of having gone too far and arrived in St. Stephen's Square;
we looked about in consternation. We did not know how to get home,
did not even remember the name of our street. We began to be frightened,
for we had been told of the Bohemian rat-catchers who were on the lookout for little children. When our apprehension had reached its climax, we
suddenly saw Mama coming towards us like an angel from heaven. She was
horrified to find us in the centre of the large town, took us home, and
remonstrated with Papa. But he took it quite calmly, and said the children
had assured him they knew the way.

Part of the growing interest in children in the first half of the nineteenth century focused on their education. It was an age of reform.
Even Jean Paul had written a book on the subject, Levana; or, The
Doctrine of Education (1807). One of the most prominent reformers was
Heinrich Pestalozzi (17461827). He emphasized the importance of a
broad and challenging curriculum (in contrast to the rote memorization
then current). Classes were often conducted out-of-doors, and opportunity for physical exercise was also provided. Many of Pestalozzi's ideas
were used as a point of departure by Friedrich Froebel (17821852).
But Froebel was especially concerned with a child's spiritual develop8

Memoirs, pp. 21011.

"The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood 339

ment. "The child's soul is more tender and vulnerable," Froebel wrote,
"than the finest or tenderest plant"a statement that echoes Schumann's own description of his daughter Julie (about a year old at the
time) as a "delicate, sensitive little plant."9 It was Froebel's likening of
children to plants that led to the establishment of the first kindergartens.
He believed that educating a child was similar to nurturing a garden.
Schumann enrolled his two eldest children, Marie and Elise, in one
of the first kindergartens established, that directed by Adolph Frankenberg in Dresden. At first they were "very happy" there, but after about
eight months Marie complained that she was " 'doing no work,' " and
Schumann felt that perhaps she had outgrown it.10 For a time, she was
sent to another school, and returned home so enthused that she offered
to attend school the entire day. "I told her," Schumann wrote, "I would
remind her of this in four weeks' time." In the summer of 1849, it
was Julie's turn to attend kindergarten. Schumann's support of kindergarten reveals not only his strong interest in education but his progressive nature. Kindergartens were regarded by many as experimental, and
of dubious value. It was maintained that education of children so young
was a wasted effort. Liszt, for example, was critical of the concept, and
remarked that "one could not help genius yet in its swaddlingclothes."12
Music had a significant role in Froebel's concept of education. It was
introduced to the child in its early years as an instance of "beauty."13
Music was published to accompany kindergarten activities, most notably
Robert Kohl's 44 Mutter-, Kose- und Spiellieder, which received the distinction of a lead review in the 18 March 1844 issue of the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik. But the review (not by Schumann), while favorable
toward the idea, was critical of the product. Schumann found much of
the music for children to be dry and pedantic, simplistic, and uninspired. It was because he could find nothing suitable to use with his
9

Bertha von Marenholz-Biilow, Reminiscences of Friedrich Froebel, trans. Mrs. Horace Mann
(Boston, 1882), p. 155; Memoirs, p. 208.
Memoirs, p. 209.
Ibid., p. 214.

Liszt later changed his mind and "then he promised he would compose songs for the
kindergarten, a promise which yet awaits its fulfillment." Marenholz-Biilow, p. 27.
13
Ibid., p. 99.

340 S C H U M A N N

own children that the Album for the Young op. 68 came into being. The
first pieces were originally written for Marie as a birthday gift in 1848.
During their composition, Schumann felt as if he "were composing for
the first time" (6 October 1848). He gave titles to all but two of the
forty pieces in the set (expanded to forty-three pieces in later editions).
A number of them took their inspiration from the activities of his children. "When he saw you children at play," Clara told Eugenie, "little
pieces of music grew out of your games."14 Schumann's example has
been followed by so many other composers that it is difficult today to
put his achievement into perspective. For the first time, music of quality
had been created specifically for children to study and enjoy. There is
great diversity in the Album: imaginative entertainment ("The Wild
Rider"), glimpses into the technique of composition ("Little Canonic
Song"), and, a typical Schumann touch, "Northern Song (Greeting to
G.)", in which the theme G-A-D-E is noted. He wrote a collection of
Maxims for Young Musicians (1850) for inclusion in subsequent editions.
The Album filled a void that had existed in music and, at the same time,
created a new genre.
During the next five years, Schumann composed four additional
works for children. The first, composed in April and May 1849, was a
counterpart to the Album for the Young: the Song Album for the Young op.
79. The album contained twenty-nine songs and, at Schumann's request, was published with a cover by Ludwig Richter (similar to the
one he had created for the Album for the Young). Schumann took particular care in his choice of poems, and included in the collection poetry
by Hoffmann von Fallersleben, Geibel, Uhland, Goethe, and Schiller,
among others. Mignon's poignant "Kennst du das Land" concludes the
set. Many of the songs are folklike in their simplicity; others are at a
more demanding technical level (for both voice and piano) and were
intended for a more advanced student. Still others are more suitable for
parents to sing to their children.
Four months after completing the Song Album, Schumann directed
his attention toward four-hand piano music for children. Its origin was
a "Birthday March" created with Marie for Clara's birthday. A dozen
pieces, each with a title, were assembled and published in 1850 as Zwolf
14

Memoirs, p. 98.

"The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood 341

vierhandige Klavierstucke fur kleine und grosse Kinder (Twelve Four-Hand
Piano Pieces for Children, Big and Small) op. 85. It was followed by a
set of a half dozen four-hand dances, the Kinderball op. 130, composed
in September 1853. Both sets were intended as playful Hausmusik for
children, a way for them to socialize and at the same time learn how
to play music with others. Most of the pieces make few technical demands on the performersthe dances are especially simpleand are
light, tuneful, and often humorous in nature.
The Kinderball had been preceded in June 1853 by Drei Klaviersonaten
fur die Jugend (Three Piano Sonatas for Children) op. 118. These are
sonatas in miniature, each consisting of four movements, most with a
title. Schumann made a point of not calling them "sonatinas;" he must
have wanted to emphasize the distinction between them and the typical,
dry sonatina. They were originally conceived for his own children.
Although they can be studied individually, Schumann thought of them
as a set: the last movement of the third sonata (entitled "A Child's
Dream") restates thematic material from both of the other sonatas.
Schumann lived during a time when the Marchen (fairy tale) developed and flourished in Germany, both the simple, folklike tales of Andersen and the more elaborate ones of Tieck, Novalis, Hoffmann, and
Arnim. He read them for his own enjoyment and to his children, and,
inspired by them, created several musical counterparts. His Waldszenen
(Forest Scenes) op. 82 (1850) is a collection of nine, short piano pieces,
each with a distinctive title: "Entrance," "Hunter in Ambush," "Lonely
Flowers," "Cursed Place," "Friendly Landscape," "Country Inn,"
"Prophet Bird," "Hunting Song," and "Farewell." The forest represented is one of mystery and imaginationa musical counterpart to the
forests portrayed in Mdrchen such as Tieck's "The Runenberg" (1802).
For "Prophet Bird," a sinister connotation was intended. Although deleted when published, it originally was prefaced by the concluding line
from Eichendorff's "Zwielicht" (set by Schumann in 1840 in the Liederkreis op. 39): "Take care, be alert and on guard." The entire set attempts to re-create the mood of the Mdrchen by programmatic depiction
of an enchanted forest.
Writers of Mdrchen were quick to note its musical association. Marchen, wrote Ludwig Tieck, need to possess "a quietly progressive tone,
a certain innocence of representation . . . which hypnotizes the soul like

342 S C H U M A N N

quiet musical improvisations without noise and clamor."15 Novaks described the Marchen as resembling "a vision in a dreamincoherent
an ensemble of wonderful things and events, for example, a musical
fantasythe harmonic sequences of an Aoelian harpnature itself."
As Schumann thought about the Marchen, it must have struck him that
it would be possible to create a Marchen without a text, that is, a strictly
musical Marchen. Two compositions were created by him in this new
musical genre: the Marchenbilder op. 113 and the Marchenerzahlungen op.
132 ("bilder" is best translated as "pictures," "erzahlungen" as "tales").
Each was created for an unusual and distinctive combination of instruments. The Marchenbilder were composed in March 1851 for viola
and piano. In the household books, there was deliberation over the
title, Schumann referring to the work as "Violageschichten" ("Viola
Tales"), "Marchengeschichten," and then "Marchenlieder."17 The Marchenerzahlungen were composed in October 1853 for clarinet, viola, and
piano. In both works, Schumann seemed to be in search of a darker
and richer sound, but one that could also, in contrast, become bright.
With its lower range, the viola could accomplish this in a way in which
the violin could not, and Schumann used to advantage its rich, warm
tone. In a similar manner, of all the woodwind instruments the clarinet
best offers the timbre Schumann was seeking, and it also complements
the viola exceedingly well. Each of the Marchen compositions consists
of four movements, untitled. There is no mistaking that these are works
from Schumann's final years. Half of the movements are monothematic,
creating a sense of restraint and terseness. And, although there is considerable contrast among the movements, they are intimate in nature,
disdaining all ostentation. Their lyricism is one of profound simplicity.
Schumann's most extensive Marchen is the oratorio, The Pilgrimage of
the Rose op. 112. He composed it in April and May 1851, and described
it as a "very charming and idyllic marchen" (27 December 1851). The
text for it 'was based on a poem sent to Schumann by Moritz Horn.
Schumann expressed interest in setting it if it were considerably short16
17

Quoted in Marianne Thaknann, The Romantic Fairy Tale (Ann Arbor, MI, 1964), p. 34.
Ibid., p. 13.
Entries of 1, 2, and 15 March 1851 in HSHLT, pp. 554, 556.

"The Poet Speaks": Schumann and Childhood 343

ened, and for several months he took an unusually active role in revising
the text with Horn. Originally, the Rose was composed for soloists and
chorus with piano accompaniment. But the performance (on 6 July
1851) was so successful that friends persuaded Schumann to orchestrate
it in order to broaden its audience.
The Pilgrimage of the Rose tells the story of an elfin rose who eagerly
wishes to experience life as a person. Her wish is granted by the princess
of the elves, and she is given a rose to take with her in order to enable
her to enjoy happiness on earth. Rose is adopted by a miller's family,
falls in love, and marries. She gives the rose to her firstborn child, but
in doing so, she dies and becomes an angel (Schumann's suggestion).
There are resemblances in the plotas Schumann acknowledgedto
Paradise and the Peri. But the tale is related in a much more direct and
simple manner, befitting a Marchen, and, as Schumann put it, is "more
German and rustic in nature."
This "rustic" nature is expressed in music more folklike in basis, such
as the chorus of elves (No. 3), or the lively female duet (No. 20). In
comparison to his other dramatic works, much of the Rose is more
tuneful in a conventional manner, with dissonance employed sparingly.
But in this miniature oratorio (the work is only about an hour in
length), Schumann continued to apply the dramatic principles displayed
in Peri, Faust, and Genoveva. There is a consistent dramatic flow with
many of the musical sections leading without break from one to another. And there is no use of recitative; once again Schumann's distinctive arioso is employed.
As with earlier works, a brief, recurring motive is associated with the
main character (the rose). But, in general, Schumann's guiding principle
seemed to be to avoid complexity. Artifice is concealed beneath a pleasant exterior, as in the tuneful canon that opens the work. The result is
the canonic equivalent of what Schumann had once described as the
"best fugue"one that the public could mistake for a dance tune. Far
more successfully than in Genoveva, Schumann succeeded in creating
music that ably complements the text and brings it to life. Here, it
Letter to Klitzsch of 9 August 1851 in Hermann Erler, Robert Schumann's Leben. Aus seinen
Breifen geschildert, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1887), II, p. 61.

344 . S C H U M A N N

seems, lay his strength as a dramatic composernot in psychological

representation but in depicting the miraculous and improbable world
of the Mdrchen.
During the final years of his life, Schumann seemed to become more
interested in children than ever. One notable instance is his fascination
with the poetry of Elisabeth Kulmann, a literary prodigy who died at
the age of seventeen in 1825. Schumann discovered her work in 1851,
and set eleven of her poems to musicfour as duets in the Madchenlieder
op. 103 and the remainder as solo songs in Sieben Lieder op. 104 (the
latter work dedicated to her memory and bound together in the first
edition by brief introductory texts written by Schumann). A portrait of
her was placed in his workroom. Friends and associates were informed
of his discovery, and he was anxious that his settings appear in print as
quickly as possible. This was no passing fancy on Schumann's part.
While in Endenich, he wrote to Brahms requesting her poetry.
Acting on the assumption that Kulmann was a little-known secondrate poet, it has become fashionable to see in Schumann's interest confirmation of his growing mental instability. But Kulmann was not an
obscure discovery by Schumann. She was an extremely popular poet.
The first publication in German of her poetry appeared in 1835; by
1857 there had been eight editions. Popularity may not assure quality,
but, for a child, Kulmann's poetry is noteworthy. That is how Schumann perceived itbeauty and wisdom "from the mouth of a child."19
And that explains to a great extent his enthusiasm. Schumann had discovered in Elisabeth Kulmann the ideal poet: the child as poet.

From Schumann's dedication of op. 104.

A P P E N D I X

Calendar

Year

Age

Contemporary musicians
and events

Life
Robert Schumann born on 8 June in
Zwickau, Saxony, son of August Schumann and Christiane (nee Schnabel).

1810

1811

1813

1814

345

Chopin born, 1 March.

Burgmufler born, 7
May.
Nicolai born, 9 June.
Schuncke born 21 Dec.
Arriaga aged 4; Beethoven 40; Bellini 9; Berlioz 7; Berwald 14;
Cherubini 50; dementi 58; Donizetti 13;
Field 28; Herold 19;
Hoffmann, 34; Hummel 32; Lortzing, 9;
Marschner, 15; Mendelssohn 1; Meyerbeer
19; Moscheles 16; Paganini 28; Rossini 18;
Schubert 13; Spohr 26;
Spontini 36; Weber
24.
Liszt born, 22 Oct.;
Hiller born, 24 Oct.
Wagner born, 22 May;
Verdi born, 10 Oct.;
Alkan born, 30 Nov.
Henselt born, 12 May.

346

APPENDIX A

1815
1816

5
6

1817

1818

1819

1820
1821

10
11

Enters Zwickau Lyceum.

1822

12

Composes Psalm 150. Active in performances at home and with Kuntsch.

1823

13

Passion for poetry and the theater.

1824

14

1825

15

Death of sister, Emilie. Creates student literary group.

1826

16

August Schumann dies, 10 Aug.

1827

17

Intense interest in Schubert and Jean Paul.

1828

18

April, May: travels in Bavaria. May: enrolls

as student of law at University of Leipzig. Meets Friedrich and Clara Wieck.
Neglects studies. Dec.: starts student
chamber ensemble.
Early lieder: WoO 10, 19, 21.

Begins piano lessons. First compositions

(dances).

Battle of Waterloo.
Rossini: Barber of Seville
Hoffmann: Undine
Gade born, 22 Feb.
Byron: Manfred
Spohr: Faust
Beethoven: "Hammerklavier" Sonata.
Clara Wieck born, 13
Sept.
Schubert: "Trout"
Quintet
Weber: Der Freischiitz.
Napoleon dies, 5 May.
Franck born, 10 Dec.
Hoffmann dies, 25 June.
Schubert: "Unfinished"
Symphony.
Beethoven: Symphony
No. 9.
Weber: Eutyanthe.
Schubert: Die schone
Mulkrin.
Bruckner born, 4 Sept.
Cornelius born, 24
Dec.
Smetana born, 2 March.
Boi'eldieu: La dame
blanche.
Arriaga dies, 17 Jan.
Weber dies, 5 June.
Mendelssohn: A Midsummer Night's Dream
Overture.
Beethoven dies, 26
March.
Schubert: Die
Winterreise.
Chopin: Variations op.
2.

Schubert dies, 19 Nov.

Marschner: Der Vampyr,

Calendar 347
1829

19

1830

20

1831

21

May: Rhine journey. Transfers to University of Heidelberg and meets Thibaut.

Aug.-Oct.: visits Switzerland and Italy.
Piano Quartet WoO 32.
Apr.: hears Paganini. July: informs family
of desire to switch to music. Oct.: begins
study with Wieck.
Abegg Variations op. 1.
Toccata op. 7.
Affair with Christel. Studies theory with
Dorn. July: creates Davidsbund. Dissatisfaction with Wieck grows. Beginning of
hand injury. Dec.: publishes review of
Chopin in AMZ

Rossini: Guillaume Tell.

Mendelssohn revives
Bach's
St Matthew Passion.
Berlioz: Symphonic
fantastique.
Hugo: Ernani.
July Revolution in
Paris.
Bellini: Norma.
Meyerbeer: Robert le
diable.
Goethe: Faust II.

Papillons op. 2.
1832

22

1833

23

1834

24

1835

25

1836

26

1837

Allegro op. 8.
Growing interest in Clara. May: severe
hand problems.
18 Nov.: G minor Symphony performed
in Zwickau.
Paganini Etudes op. 3.
Intermezzi op. 4
17-18 Oct.: suffers nervous breakdown.
Gradual recovery.
Impromptus op. 5.
Symphony WoO 29.
3 Apr.: first issue of NZfM.
Fall: engagement with Ernestine von
Fricken.
Etudes symphoniques op. 13.
Summer: meets Mendelssohn. Growing
intimacy with Clara.
Carnaval op. 9. Piano Sonata No. I op.
11.
Jan.: ends engagement with Ernestine.
Feb.: death of his mother. Wieck prohibits relationship with Clara. Sept.:
meets Chopin.
Concert sans orchestre op. 14. Fantasie op.
17.
Aug.: S. and Clara become secretly engaged. Sept.: Wieck formally refuses permission and pursues a strategy of delay
and separation.
Davidsbundlertiinze op. 6.

Donizetti: L'elisir
d'amore.

Brahms born, 7 May.

Burgmuller: Symphony
No. I.
Marschner: Hans
Heiling.
Schuncke dies, 7 Dec.
Borodin born, 12 Nov.
Berlioz: Harold in Italy.
Bellini dies, 24 Sept.
Donizetti: Lucia di
Lammermoor.
Burgmuller dies, 7 May.
Meyerbeer: Les
Huguenots.

Hummel dies, 17 Oct.

Berlioz: Requiem.
Lortzing: Zar und
Zimmermann.

348

APPENDIX A

1838

28

1839

29

1840

30

1841

31

1842

32

1843

33

1844

34

1845

35

1846

36

Sept.: leaves for Vienna.

Increased sense of isolation.
Kinderszenen op. 15.
Kreisleriana op. 16.
Novelletten op. 21
Jan.: Clara leaves for Paris tour. Apr.: S.
returns to Leipzig. June: begins legal
steps to gain consent for marriage. Aug.:
Clara returns to Germany. Dec.: Wieck
defames S. in court.
Arabesque op. 18.
Humoreske op. 20.
Nachtstucke op. 23.
Mar.: meets Liszt. Aug.: court grants permission for marriage. 12 Sept.: married.
Liederkreis von Heine op. 24.
Liederkreis von Eichendorjfop. 39.
Frauenliebe und Leben op. 42.
Dichterliebe op. 48.
31 Mar.: Mendelssohn conducts Symphony No. I. 6 Dec.: unsuccessful premiere of op. 52 and first version of op.
120. Growing discontent with journalistic duties.
Symphony No. I op. 38.
Overture, Scherzo, and Finale op. 52.
Feb. and Mar.: tour in northern Germany.
6 Dec.: premiere of Piano Quintet with
Mendelssohn.
3 String Quartets op. 41. Piano Quintet
op. 44. Piano Quartet op. 47.
Growing financial worries. Jan.: meets
Berlioz. Sells NZfM.
Paradise and the Peri op. 50.
25 Jan.: leaves for Russian tour (returns 30
Mar.). Summer: onset of nervous breakdown. 13 Dec.: moves to Dresden.
Illness persists. Renewed study of counterpoint. 4 Dec.: premiere of Piano
Concerto.
Piano Concerto op. 54. Six Fugues on the
Name, "Bach" op. do.
Still ill. Increased interest in opera. 23
Nov.: leaves for Vienna tour.
Symphony No. 2 op. 61.

Bizet born, 25 Oct.

Berlioz: Benvenuto
Cellini.
Chopin: Preludes op. 28.
Musorgsky born, 21
Mar.
Berlioz: Romeo et
Juliette.
Chopin: Piano Sonata
op. 35

Chaikovsky born, 7
May.
Goetz born, 17 Dec.
Paganini dies, 27 May.
Chopin: Ballade op. 38
Chabrier born, 18 Jan.
Dvorak born, 8 Sept.
Gade: Ossian Overture.

Cherubini dies, 15 Mar.

Mendelssohn: "Scottish"
Symphony.
Lortzing: Der
Wildschutz.
Wagner: Rienzi.
Grieg born, 15 June.
Berwald: Symphony
No. I.
Rimsky-Korsakov born,
18 Mar.
Henselt: Piano
Concerto.
Wagner: Tannhauser.
Mendelssohn: Violin
Concerto.

Berlioz: La damnation de
Faust.
Mendelssohn: Elijah.

Calendar 349
1847

37

1848

38

1849

39

1850

40

1851

41

1852

42

1853

43

1854

44

4 Feb.: returns to Dresden from unsuccessful tour. 20 Feb.: conducts Peri in Berlin.
July: Zwickau festival in his honor. 20
Nov.: assumes direction of Liedertafel.
Piano Trio. No. I op. 63.
Piano Trio No. 2 op. 80.
26 Mar.: creates choral society. 9 June:
breaks with Liszt. Eager for a more prestigious position.
Album for the Young op. 68.
Genoveva op. 81.
May: revolution in Dresden. Temporary
move to Kreischa. Fall: informed of directorship opening in Dusseldorf. Composes prolifically.
Nachtlied von Hebbel op. 108. Manfred, op.
115.
Mar.: Bremen and Hamburg. 25 Jun.: premiere of Genoveva.
I Sept.: assumes position in Dusseldorf.
Symphony No. 3 op. 97.
Cello Concerto op. 129.
Disillusionment with Dusseldorf. Criticism
of his conducting.
Piano Trio No. 3 op. no.
Der Rose Pilgerfahrt op. 112.
Symphony No. 4 op. 120.
5 Feb.: premiere of Rose. Spring: immersed in work on Dichtergarten. Problems with "nerves" in summer and fall.
Criticism of his conducting continues.
Mass op. 147. Requiem op. 148.
May: Nieder-Rheinische Festival. July:
suffers stroke? Sept.: meets Brahms. Nov.:
committee asks S. to limit conducting
duties. S. resigns effective I Oct. 26
Nov.: visits Holland (returns 22 Dec.).
Gesdnge der Fruhe op. 133. Violin Concerto WoO 23.
Scenes from Faust WoO 3.
19-30 Jan.: visits Joachim in Hanover. 10
Feb.: onset of breakdown. 27 Feb.: attempts suicide. 4 Mar.: taken to asylum
in Endenich. Sept.: begins to correspond
with Clara and others. Dec.: Joachim
visits S. who asks to be moved to another asylum.

Mendelssohn dies, 4
Nov.
Alkan: Piano Sonata.
Verdi: Macbeth

Donizetti dies, 8 Apr.

Liszt: Les preludes,
Revolution in Paris and
Vienna.
Nicolai dies, n May.
Chopin dies, 17 Oct.
Meyerbeer: Le prophete.
Nicolai: Die lustigen
Weiber von Windsor.
Wagner: Lohengrin.

d'lndy born, 27 Mar.

Spontini dies, 14 Jan.
Lortzing dies, 21 Jan.
Verdi: Rigoletto.
Berlioz: Soirees de
I'orchestre.

Verdi: II trovatore.
Liszt: Piano Sonata.

Janacek born, 4 July.

Liszt: Orpheus.
Berlioz: L'enfance du
Christ.

350 A P P E N D I X A

1855

45

1856

46

II Jan. and 24 Feb.: Brahms visits S. who

is anxious to leave. Spring: visit of Bettina von Arnim. July: Clara meets S. s
chief physician and agrees to his remaining in Endenich. S. abandons all
correspondence.
S. becomes increasingly despondent. Apparently refuses to eat. Informed of his
weak condition, on 27 July Clara visits
S. In a weak and emaciated state, he dies
on 29 July.

Chausson born, 21 Jan.

Verdi: Les vepres
sidliennes.

Liszt: Dante Symphony.

A P P E N D I X

List of Works

Date of Composition

Date of Publication

1. Compositions For Keyboard

a. Solo Piano
Papillons op. 2
Theme sur le nom Abegg vane op. I
Toccata op. 7
VI Etudes d'apres des Caprices de Paganini
op. 3
Intermezzi op. 4
Allegro op. 8
Canon "An Alexis" WoO 4
Albumbldtter op. 124
I. Impromptu. 2. Leides Ahnung. 3. Scherzino.
4. Walzer. 5. Phantasietanz. 6. Wiegenliedchen.
7. Ldndler. 8. Lied ohne Ende. 9. Impromptu.
10. Walzer. 11. Romanze. 12. Burla. 13. Larghetto. 14. Vision. 15. Walzer. 16. Schlummerlied. 17. Elfe. 18. Botschaft. 19. Phantasiestuck.
20. Canon.
Impromptus uber ein Thema von ClamWieck
op. 5
Kf Etudes de concert d'apres des Caprices de
Paganini op. 10
Etuden uber ein Thema von Beethoven WoO
31
Grande Sonate op.11
Senate op. 22
Carnaval op. 9

351

1828-31
1829/1830
182933
1832

1831
1831
1834
1832

1832
1832
1832?
1832-45

1833
1835
1858
1854

1833

1833

1833

1835

1833

1976

1833-35
1833-38
1834-35

l8

36
1839
l8
37

352

APPENDIX B

Etudes symphoniques op. 13

Etudes symphoniques (five additional) WoO 6
Variations on Chopin's Nocturne op. 15
no. 3
Scherzo und Presto passionate WoO 5
(Scherzo originally intended for op. 14, the
Presto for op. 22)
Concert sans orchestre op. 14
(revised and published as Piano Sonata No. 3
in 1853)
Fantasie op. 17
Bunte Blatter op. 99
i.3. Drei Stiicklein. 4-8. Funf Albumblatter.
g. Novellette. 10. Praludium. 11. Marsch.
12. Abendmusik. 13. Scherzo.
14. Geschwindmarsch.
Davidsbundlertdnze op. 6
Fantasiestiicke op. 12
Fantasiestuck (not included in publication
of op. 12) WoO 28
Kinderszenen op. 15
Novelletten op. 21
Kreisleriana op. 16
Arabesque op. 18
Blumenstuck op. 19
Vier Klavierstucke: Scherzo, Gigue, Romanze,
und Fughette op. 32
Humoreske op. 20
Nachtstucke op. 23
Faschingsschwank aus Wien op. 26
Drei Romanzen op. 28
Albumblatt fur Gade WoO 8
Vier Fugen op. 72
Album fur diejugend op. 68
Album fur diejugend (four additional) WoO
16
Album fur diejugend (seventeen additional)
WoO 30
Waldszenen op. 82
Vier Marsche op. 76
DreiFantasiestiickeop.nl
DreiKlaviersonatenfurdieJugendop. 118
Sieben Klavierstucke in Fughettenform op. 126
Gesange der Fruhe op. 133
Theme in E Flat WoOoeI
Theme in E flat [WoO loe] and Variations
WoO 24

183435
1835?
1835?

1837
1873
1992

1835, 1836

1866

1836

1836

1836
1836-49

1839
1852

1837
1837
1837

1837
1838
1958

1838
1838
1838
1838/1839
1838/1839
1838/1839

1839
1839
1838
1839
1839
1841

1839
1839
1839
1839
1844
1845
1848
1848

1839
1840
1841
1840
1887
1850
1848
1924

1848

1973

1848-49
1849
1851
1853
1853
1853
1854
1854

1850
1849
1852
1853
1854
1855
1893
1941

List of Works 353

b. Pedal Piano
Studien op. 56
Skizzen op. 58

1845
1845

1845
1846

1845

1846

1828
1848
1849

1933
1849
1850

1851
1853

1853
1854

1827-28

1893

1827-28
1827-28

1933
1933

1840

1840

1840

1840

c. Organ
Seeks Fugen uber den Namen, "Bach" op. 60
d. Piano Duet
Acht Polonaisen WoO 20
Bilder aus dem Osten op. 66
Zwvolf vierhandige Klavierstucke fur kleine und
grosse Kinder op. 85
Ballszenen op. 109
Kinderball op. 130

2. Vocal Compositions
a. Solo Lieder
Early Lieder WoO 1ob, c, d
I. An Anna (Kerner). 2. Im Herbste (Kerner).
3. Hirtenknabe (Schumann).
Der Fischer (Goethe) WoO 19
Seeks Fruhe Lieder WoO 21
I. Sehnsucht (Schumann). 2. Die Weinende
(Byron). 3. Erinnerung (Jacobi). 4. Kurzes Erwachen (Kerner). 5. Gesanges Erwachen (Kerner). 6. An Anna (Kerner).
Liederkreis von Heine op. 24
I. Mortens steh' ich aufundfrage. 2. Es treibt
mich hin. 3. Ich wandelte unter den Baumen.
4. Lieb' Liebchen. 5. Schone 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.
Myrthen op. 25
1. Widmung (Riickert). 2. Freisinn (Goethe).
3. Der Nussbaum (Mosen). 4.Jemand (Burns).
5. Sitz' ich allein (Goethe). 6. Setze mir nicht
(Goethe). 7. Die Lotosblume (Heine). 8. Talismane (Goethe). 9. Lied der Suleika (Goethe).
10. Die Hochlander-Witwe (Burns), 11. Lied der
Braut No. 1 (Ruckert). 12. Lied der Braut No.
2 (Ruckert). 13. Hochlanden Abschied (Burns).

354 . A P P E N D I X B

14. Hochldndisches Wiegenlied (Burns). 15. Mein

Herz ist schwer (Byron). 16. Ratsel (Byron).
17. Lets' rudern hier (Moore). 18. Wenn durch
die Piazzetta (Moore). 19. Hauptmanns Weib
(Burns). 20. Weit, weit (Burns). 21 Was will
die einsame Trane (Heine). 22. Niemand
(Burns). 23. In Westen (Burns). 24. Du bist
wie eine Blume (Heine). 25. Aus dem ostlichen
Rosen (Ruckert). 26. Zum Schluss (Ruckert).
Lieder und Gesange, Heft I op. 27
i. Sag an, o lieber Vogel mein (Hebbel). 2. Dem
roten Roslein gleicht mein Weib (Burns). 3. Was
soll ich sagen? (Chamisso). 4. Jasminenstrauch
(Ruckert). 5. Nur ein liichelnder Blick
(Zimmermann).
Drei Gedichte von Geibel op. 30
1. Der Knabe mit dem Wunderhorn. 2. Der
Page. 3. Der Hidalgo.
Drei Gesange von Chamisso op. 31
1. Die Lowenbraut. 2. Die Kartenlegerin. 3. Die
rote Hanne
Zwolf Gedichte von Kerner op. 35
1. Lust der Sturmnacht. 2. Stirb, Lieb' und
Freud. 3. Wanderlied. 4. Erstes Grun. 5. Sehnsucht nach der Waldgegend. 6. Aufdas Trinkglas
eines verstorbenen Freundes. 7. Wanderung.
8. Stille Liebe. 9. Frage. 10. Stille Trdnen.
2. Wer machte dich so krank? 12. Alte Laute.
Sechs Gedichte von Reinick op. 36
1. Sonntags am Rhein. 2. Stdndchen. 3. Nichts
schoneres. 4. An den Sonnenschein. 5. Dichters
Genesung. 6. Liebesbotschaft.
Zwolf Gedichte von Ruckert's 'Liebesfriihling'

1840

1849

1840

1840

1840

1841

1840

1841

1840

1842

1840

1841

1840

1842

op. 37
1. Der Himmel hat eine Trane geweint. 2. Er ist
gekommen. 3. O ihr Herren. 4. Liebst du um
Schonheit. 5. Ich hab in mich gesogen. 6. Liebste,
was kann denn uns scheiden? 7. Schon ist das
Fest des Lenzes. 8. Fliigel! Fliigel! 9. Rose, Meer
und Sonne. 10. O Sonn, o Meer, o Rose!
ii. Warum willst du andrejragen. 12. So wahr
die Sonne scheinet.
(numbers 2, 4, and n are by Clara
Schumann)
Liederkreis von Eichendorffop. 39
i. In der Fremde. 2. Intermezzo. 3. Waldesgesprach. 4. Die Stille. 5. Mondnacht. 6. Schone

List of Works 355

Fremde. 7. Auf einer Burg. 8. In der Fremde.
9. Wehmut. 10. Zwielicht. n. Im Walde.
12. Friihlingsnacht.
Fiinf Lieder op. 40
I. Mdrzveilchen (Andersen). 2. Muttertraum
(Andersen). 3. Der Soldat (Andersen). 4. Der
Spielmann (Andersen). 5. Verratene Liebe
(Chamisso).
Frauenliebe und Leben (Chamisso) op. 42
I. Seit ich ihn gesehen. 2. Er, der Herrlichste von
alien. 3. Ich kann's nichtfassen. 4. Du Ring an
meinem Finger. 5. Helft mil, ihr Schwestern.
6. Siisser Freund, du blickest. J. An meinem
Herzen. 8. Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz
getan.
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft I op. 45
I. Der Schatzgrdber (Eichendorfi). 2. Friihlingsfahrt (Eichendorfi). 3. Abends am Strand
(Heine).
Dichterliebe (Heine) op. 48
1. Im wunderschonen Monat Mai. 2. Aus meinen
Tranen spriessen. 3. Die Rose, die Lilie. 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 wiissten's die Blumen. 9. Das
ist ein Floten und Geigen. 10. Ho'r' ich das
Liedchen klingen. n. Ein Jungling liebt ein
Mddchen. 12. Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen.
13. Ich hah' im Traum geweinet. 14. Allnachtlich
im Traume. 15. Aus alien Mdrchen. 16. Die alien, bdsen Lieder.
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft II op. 49
i. Die beiden Grenadiere (Heine). 2. Diefeindlichen Briider (Heine). 3. Die Nonne
(Frohlich).
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft III op. 53
i. Blondels Lied (Seidl). 2. Lorelei (Lorenz).
3. Der arme Peter (Heine).
Belsatzar (Heine) op. 57
"Der Deutsche Rhein" (Becker) WoO i
Zwei Balladen-Fragmente WoO II
i. Die Reiter (Schwab). 2. Die ndchtliche Heerschau (Zedlitz).
Lieder und Gesdnge, Heft III op. 77
1. Derfrohe Wandersmann (Eichendorfi).
2. Mein Garten (Hoffmann von
Fallersleben). 3. Geisternahe (Halm).

1840

1842

1840

1843

1840

1843

1840

1844

1840

1844

1840

1845

1840
1840
1840

1846
1840
1897

1840, 1850

1851

356

APPENDIX B

4. Stiller Vorwurf(Anon.). 5. Auftrage

(L'Egru).
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft IV op. 64
i. Die Soldatenbraut (Morike). 2. Das verlassene
Magdelein (Morike). 3. Tragodie (Heine): a.
Entflieh mit mir, b. Esfiel ein Reif, c. Auf
ihrem Grab (S. & T. duet).
Lieder und Gesdnge, Heft II op. 51
I. Sehnsucht (Geibel). 2. Volksliedchen (Riickert). 3. Ich wand're nicht (Christern). 4. Auf
dem Rhein (Immermann). 5. Liebeslied
(Goethe).
"Soldatenlied" (Hoffinann von Fallersleben) WoO 7
Lieder-Album fur diejugend op. 79
i. Der Abendstern (Hoffmann von Fallersleben)). 2. Schmetterling (Hoffmann von Fallersleben) 3. Friihlingsbotschaft (Hoffinann von
Fallersleben). 4. Friihlingsgruss (Hoffinann von
Fallersleben). 5. Vom Schlaraffenland (Hoffmann von Fallersleben). 6. Sonntag (Hoffmann von Fallersleben). 7. Zigeunerliedchen
No. i (Geibel). 8. Zigeunerliedchen No. 2
(Geibel). 9. Des Knaben Berglied (Uhland).
10. Mailied (Overbeck) (Duet). II. Kauzlein
(from Des Knaben Wunderhorn). 12. Hinaus ins
Freie! (Hoffmann von Fallersleben). 13. Der
Sandmann (Kletke). 14. Marienwiirmchen (from
Des Knaben Wunderhorn). 15. Die IVaise
(Hoffmann von Fallersleben). 16. Das Glilck
(Hebbel) (Duet). 17. Weihnachtsied (Andersen). 18. Die wandelnde Glocke (Goethe).
19. Fruhlingslied (Hoffinann von Fallersleben)
(duet). 20. Friihlings Ankunft (Hoffmann von
Fallersleben). 21. Die Schwalben (Anon.)
(duet). 22. Kinderwacht (Anon.). 23. Des Sennew Abschied (Schiller). 24. Er ist's (Morike).
25. Spinnenlied (Anon.) (trio). 26. Des Buben
Schutzenlied (Schiller). 27. Schneeglockchen
(Riickert). 28. Lied Lynceus des Tiirmers (Goethe). 29. Mignon (Goethe).
Drei Gesdnge (Byron) op. 95
i. Die Tochterjephthas. 2. An den Mond.
3. Dem Helden.
Lieder aus Goethe's Wilhelm Meister op. 98a
1. Kennst du das Land. 2. Ballade des Harfners.
3. Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt. 4. Wer nie sein

1841, 1847

1847

1842

1850

1845

1845

1849

1849

1849

1851

1849

1851

List of Works 357

Brot nit Trdnen ass. 5. Heiss mich nicht reden.
6. Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt. 7. Singet nicht
in Trauertonen. 8. An die Turen will ich
schleichen. 9. So lasst mich scheinen.
Drei Gesdnge op. 83
I. Resignation (J. B.). 2. Die Blume der Ergebung (Ruckert). 3. Der Einsiedler
(Eichendorfi).
Seehs Gesange (von der Neun) op. 89
I. Es sturmet. 2. Heimliches Verschwinden.
3. Herbstlied. 4. Abschied vom Walde. 5. Ins
Freie. 6. Roselein.
Seehs Gedichte von Lenau und Requiem op.
90
I. Lied tines Schmiedes. 2. Meine Rose. 3. Kommen und Scheiden. 4. Die Sennin. 5. Einsamkeit.
6. Der schwere Abend.
Lieder und Gesange, Heft IV op. 96
1. Nachtlied (Goethe). 2. Schneegldckchen
(Anon.). 3. Ihre Stimme (Platen). 4. Gesungen!
(von der Neun). 5. Himmel und Erde (von
der Neun).
Lieder und Gesange op. 127
1. Sdngers Trost (Kerner). 2. Dein Angesicht
(Heine). 3. Es leuchtet meine Liebe (Heine).
4. Mein altes Ross (Strachwitz). 5. Schlusslied
des Narren (Shakespeare).
Der Handschuh (Schiller) op. 87
Sieben Lieder von Kulmann op. 104
1. Mond, meiner Seele liebling. 2. Viel Gluck zur
Reise. 3. Du nennst mich armes Mddchen. 4. Der
Zeisig. 5. Reich' mir die Hand. 6. Die letzten
Blumen starben. 7. Gekampft hat meine Barke.
Vier Husarenlieder von Lenau op. 117
1. Der Husar. 2. Der leidige Frieden. 3. Den
griinen Zeigern. 4. Da liegt der Feinde gestreckte
Schar.
Drei Gedichte von Pfarrius op. 119
1. Die Hittte. 2. Warnung. 3. Der Brautigam
und die Birke.
Funf heitere Gesdnge op. 125
1. Der Meerfee (Buddeus). 2. Husarenabzug
(Candidus). 3. Jung Volkers Lied (Morike).
4. Fruhlingslied (Braun). 5. Fruhlingslust
(Anon.).
Sechs Gesange op. 107
1. Herzeleid (Ullrich). 2. Die Fensterscheibe

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1852

 APPENDIX B

(Ullrich). 3. Der Gartner (Morike). 4. Die

Spinnerin (Heyse). 5. 1m Wald (Wolfgang
Muller). 6. Abendlied (Kinkel).
Gedichte der Konigin Maria Stuart op. 135
1852
1. Abschied von Frankreich. 2. Nach der Geburt
ihres Sohnes. 3. An die Konigin Elisabeth.
4. Abschied von der Welt. 5. Gebet.
Vier Gesange op. 142
1852
1. Trost im Gesang (Kerner). 2. Lehn' deine
Wang' (Heine). 3. Mddchen-Schwermut
(Anon.). 4. Mem Wagen rollet langsam (Heine).

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1858

b. Works for Declamation

Schon Hedwig (Hebbel) op. 106
Zwei Balladen op. 122
1. Ballade vom Haideknaben (Hebbel). 2. Die
Fluchtlinge (Shelley).

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c. Mixed Voices or Chorus

Drei Gedichte von Geibel op. 29
1. Landliches Lied (duet). 2. Lied (trio). 3. Ziegeunerleben (quartet).
Seehs Lieder op. 33
(for male chorus)
1. Der traumende See (Mosen). 2. Die Minnesanger (Heine). 3. Die Lotosblume (Heine).
4. Der Zecher als Doctrinair (Mosen). 5. Rastlose Liebe (Goethe). 6. Fruhlingsglocken
(Reinick).
Vier Duette op. 34
1. Liebesgarten (Reinick). 2. Liebhabers
Standchen (Burns). 3. Unter'm Fenster (Burns).
4. Familien-Gemalde (Grun).
Drei zweistimmige Lieder op. 43
1. Wenn ich ein Voglein war' (Anon.). 2. Herbstlied (Mahlmann). 3. Schon Blumelein
(Reinick).
Funf Lieder von Burns op. 55
(for mixed chorus)
1. Das Hochlandmddchen. 2. Zahnweh. 3. Mich
zieht es nach dem Dorfchen hin. 4. Die alte gute
Zeit. 5. Hochlandbursch.
Vier Gesdnge op. 59
(for mixed chorus)
1. Nord oder Sud (Lappe). 2. Am Bodensee

List of Works 359

(Platen). j.Jagerlied (Morike). 4. Gute Nacht
(Ruckert).
"Hirtenknaben" (Droste-HiilshofF; for op.
59) WoO 18

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1913

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1914

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1849

(2 S. & 2 T.)

Dm Gesange op. 62
(for male chorus)
1. Der Eidgenossen Nachtwache (Eichendorff).
2. Freiheitslied (Ruckert). 3. Schlachtgesang
(Klopstock).
Ritornelle von Ruckert op. 65
(for male chorus)

1. Die Rose. 2. Lasst Lautenspiel. 3. Blut' oder

Schnee. 4. Gebt mir zu trinken 5. Zurne nicht.
6. Im Sommertagen. 7. In Meeres Mitten.
Beim Abschied zu singen (Feuchtersleben)
op. 84
(for mixed chorus and wind ensemble)
Canon fur Mannerstimme (Ruckert) WoO
12
"Mache deinem Meister Ehre" (Ruckert)
WoO 17
(for male chorus)
"Schwarze-Rot-Gold" (Freiligrath) WoO
13
(for male chorus)
"Zu den Waffen" (Ullrich) WoO 14
(for male chorus)
"Deutsche Freiheitsgesang" (Furst) WoO
15
(for male chorus)
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft I op. 67
(for mixed chorus)
1. Der Konig von Thule (Goethe). 2. Schon
Rohtraut (Morike). 3. Heidenroslein (Goethe).
4. Ungewitter (Chamisso). 5.John Anderson
(Burns).
Romanzen, Heft I op. 69
(for female chorus; piano ad lib.
accompaniment)
1. Tamburinschldgerin (Eichendorff). 2. Waldmddchen (Eichendorff). 3. Klosterfrdulein (Kerner). 4. Soldatenbraut (Morike). 5. Meerfey
(Eichendorff). 6. Die Capelle (Uhland).
Spanisches Liederspiel (Geibel) op. 74
(includes 3 solo songs)
1. Erste Begegnung (S.A.). 2. Intermezzo (T.B.).

360

APPENDIX B

3. Liebesgram (S.A.). 4. In der Nacht (S.T.).

5. Es ist venaten (S.A.T.B.). 6. Melancholie (S.).
7. Gestandnis (T.). 8. Botschaft (S.A.). 9. Ich bin
.geliebt (S.A.T.B.). 10. Der Contrabandiste (B.)
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft II op. 75
(for mixed chorus)
I. Schnitter Tod (Anon.). 2. Im Walde (Eichendorfi). 3. Der traurige Jager (Eichendorff).
4. Der Rekrut (Burns). 5. Vom verwundeten
Knaben (Anon.).
Vier Duette op. 78
1. Tanzlied (Ruckert). 2. Er und sie (Kerner).
3. Ich denke dein (Goethe). 4. Wiegenlied
(Hebbel).
Romanzen, Heft II op. 91
(for female chorus; piano ad lib.
accompaniment)
1. Rosmarin (Anon.). 2.Jager Wohlgemut (from
Des Knaben Wunderhorn). 3. Der Wassermann
(Kerner). 4. Das verlassene Magdelein (M6rike). 5. Der Bleicherin Nachtlied (Reinick).
6. In Meeres Mitten (Ruckert).
Minnespiel (Ruckert) op. 101
(includes four solo songs)
1. Lied (T.). 2. Gesang (S.). 3. Duett (A.B.).
4. Lied (T.). 5. Quartett (S.A.T.B.). 6. Lied
(A.). 7. Duett (S.T.). 8. Quartett (S.A.T.B.).
Jagdlieder (Laube) op. 137
(for male chorus; four horns ad lib.
accompaniment)
1. Zur hohen jagd. 2. Habet acht. 3. Jagdmorgen.
4. Fruhe. 5. Bei der Flasche.
Spanische Liebeslieder (Geibel) op. 138
(includes four solo songs; piano 4-hands
accompaniment)
1. Vonpiel (PL). 2. Lied (S.). 3. Lied (T.).
4. Duett (S.A.). 5. Romanze (B.). 6. Intermezzo
(PL). 7- Lied (T.). 8. Lied (A.). 9. Duett (T.B.).
10. Quartett (S.A.T.B.).
Vier doppelchorige Gesange op. 141
1. An die Sterne (Ruckert). 2. Ungewisses Licht
(Zedlitz). 3. Zuversicht (Zedlitz). 4. Talistnane
(Goethe).
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft III op. 145
(for mixed chorus)
1. Der Schmidt (Uhland). 2. Die Nonne
(Anon.). 3. Der Sdnger (Uhland). 4. John An-

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List of Works 361

derson (Burns). 5. Romanze vom Gdnsebuben
(Malsburg).
Romanzen und Balladen, Heft IV op. 146
(for mixed chorus)
1. Brautgesang (Uhland). 2. Bankelsanger Willie
(Burns). 3. Der Traum (Uhland). 4. Sommerlied
(Ruckert). 5. Das Schifflein (Uhland).
"Sommerruh" (Schad) WoO 9
(duet with piano accompaniment)
Madchenlieder von Kulmann op. 103
(duets)
1. Mailied. 2. Fruhlingslied. 3. An die Nachtigall.
4. An den Abendstern.
Drei Lieder op. 114
(trios for female voices)
1. Nanie (Bechstein). 2. Triolett (L'Egru).
3. Spruch (Ruckert).

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1829
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1979
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1893

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1849
1849

d. Soloists, chorus, and orchestra

Requiem fur Mignon op.
98b
Nachtlied von Hebbel op. 108
(chorus and orchestra)
Neujahrslied von Ruckert op. 144
(chorus and orchestra)
Der Konigssohn op. 116
Des Sangers Fluch op. 139
Vom Pagen und der Konigstochter op. 140
Fest-Ouverture ("Rheinweinlied") op. 123
(chorus and orchestra)
Das Gluck von Edenhall op. 143

3. Chamber Compositions
Piano Quartet in C minor WoO 32
Three String Quartets op. 41
Piano Quintet op. 44
Piano Quartet op. 47
Fantasiestucke (piano trio) op. 88
Andante und Variationen op. 46
(two pianos)
Andante und Variationen op. 46 WoO roa
(original version for two pianos, two cellos,
and horn)
Piano Trio No. I op. 63
Piano Trio No. 2 op. 80
Adagio und Allegro (horn and piano) op. 70

362

APPENDIX B

Fantasiestucke (clarinet and piano) op. 73

Dm Romanzen (oboe and piano) op. 94
Funf Stucke im Volkston (cello and piano)
op. 102
Violin Sonata No. I op. 105
Piano Trio No. 3 op. no
Marchenbilder (viola and piano) op. 113
Violin Sonata No. 2 op. 121
Piano accompaniment for Bach's Violin
Sonatas WoO 2
Marchenerzdhlungen (clarinet, viola, and piano) op. 132
Violin Sonata No. 3 WoO 27
Piano accompaniments to selected Caprices
of Paganini WoO 25
Piano accompaniments to Bach's Cello
Suites

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1956
1941

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1986

4. Compositions for Solo Instrument and Orchestra

Concertsatz (piano; reconstruction)
Piano Concerto op. 54
Konzertstuck (four French horns) op. 86
Introduction und Allegro appassionato (piano)
op. 92
Cello Concerto op. 129
Phantasie (violin) op. 131
Koncert-Allegro mil Introduction (piano) op.
134
Violin Concerto WoO 23
Arrangement for violin of the Cello Concerto op. 129

1839
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1988
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1937
1987

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1972
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1857

5. Orchestral Compositions
Symphony in G minor WoO 29
Symphony No. I op. 38
Overture, Scherzo, and Finale op. 52
Symphony No. 4 op. 120
Symphony No. 2 op. 61
Symphony No. 3 op. 97
Ouverture zu Schillers Braut von Messina op.
100
Ouverture zu Shakespeares Julius Casar op.
128
Ouverture zu Goethes Hermann und Dorothea
op. 136

List of Works 363

6. Oratorios, Stage Works, and Religious Compositions
a. Oratorios
Das Paradies und die Peri op. 50
Szenen aus Goethes Faust WoO 3
Der Rose Pilgerfahrt op. 112

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1844-53
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1847-48
1848-49

1983
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1862
1864

b. Stage Works
Der Corsar (fragments)
Genoveva op. 81
Manfred op. 115
c. Religious Compositions
Adventlied von Ruckert op. 71
(soprano, chorus, and orchestra)
Motette "Verzweifle nicht" (Ruckert) op. 93
(double chorus and orchestra)
Mass op. 147
Requiem op. 148

A P P E N D I X

Personalia

Alkan, Charles Henri Valentin (181388), French pianist and composer. Alkan
was the greatest virtuoso of his age but, because of his reclusive nature,
performed infrequently. His works are distinctive and original. Unfortunately, Schumann was familiar only with a few of his salon pieces.
Arnim, Bettina von (1785-1859), writer and composer. Sister of Clemens
Brentano and wife of Ludwig Achim von Arnim. She wrote reminiscences of Beethoven and Goethe, which were criticized for their flights
of fancy. Outspoken and idealistic, she championed women's rights and
defiantly opposed discrimination against minorities (including Jews and
the mentally ill).
Arnim, Ludwig Achim von (17811831), poet, novelist, dramatist, and critic.
Coeditor of The Youth's Magic Horn, and creator of fiction of great imagination. Husband of Bettina and close friend of her brother, the poet
Clemens Brentano.
Bennett, William Sterndale (181675), English pianist, composer, and teacher.
Mendelssohn served as his mentor. Conductor of the London Philharmonic from 1856 to 1866, and professor of music at Cambridge University from 1856 until his death.
Berwald, Franz (17961868), Swedish composer, active in Germany and Austria. Little regarded during his lifetime, his chamber compositions and
four symphonies are among the most innovative of the 1840s and 1850s.
Brendel, Franz (1811-68), editor of the Neue Zeitschrift for Musik from 1845.
Teacher at the Leipzig Conservatory, and friend of Schumann. He became a strong advocate of Wagner and Liszt.
Brentano, Clemens (1778-1842), poet, novelist, and dramatist. Editor with
Arnim of The Youth's Magic Horn. In later years, he became a devout
Catholic, and lamented the frivolity of his earlier work.
364

Personalia 365
Burgmuller, Norbert (1810-36), one of the most gifted composers of his
generation. Among his most notable compositions are two symphonies,
four string quartets, and a piano sonata. Schumann was a great champion
of his music, and orchestrated part of Burgmuller's unfinished Symphony
No. 2.
Chamisso, Adelbert von (1781-1838), poet, naturalist, and novelist. Best
known for his creation of Peter Schlemihl, the unfortunate man who
sold his shadow. Like Schumann, he had a wife considerably younger
than himself. The poems that he wrote in her honorFmuenliebe und
Lebenwere set by Schumann as his op. 42.
Cherubim, Luigi (1760-1842), Italian composer and teacher. Beethoven admired his work. Director of the Paris Conservatory from 1822, he was
regarded as one of the foremost contrapuntists of his day.
David, Ferdinand (1810-73), violinist and composer. A good friend of Mendelssohn, he became concertmaster of the Gewandhaus Orchestra and
professor at the Leipzig Conservatory.
Dorn, Heinrich (1804-92), composer, teacher, and conductor. Like Mendelssohn, he was a student of Zelter. Unlike Schumann (whom he briefly
taught), Dorn moved well in official music circles. He was director of
the Royal Opera in Berlin from 1849 to 1868.
Field, John (1782-1837), Irish pianist and composer. Creator of the nocturne,
he was greatly esteemed for his expressive playing. Much of his life was
spent in Russia. Both Wieck and Chopin were admirers of his work.
Franz, Robert (1815-92), composer and editor of Baroque music. Known for
his nearly three hundred lieder, he was an early supporter of Schumann's
compositions.
Gade, Niels (181790), Danish composer. A friend of both Mendelssohn and
Schumann, his Symphony No. I op. 5 (1843) established his reputation
in Germany. In 1861, he was appointed Kapellmeister in Copenhagen.
Hauptmann, Moritz (1792-1868), violinist, composer, and theorist. A conservative musician, he was professor of counterpoint and composition at
the Leipzig Conservatory. A good friend of Spohr, he found Schumann's
earlier work to be baffling.
Heller, Stephen (1814-88), pianist and composer. Settled in Paris in 1838. An
infrequent performer, he was best known for his piano miniatures. He
and Schumann shared an infatuation with Jean Paul.
Henselt, Adolf (1814-89), German pianist and composer. Despite his great
virtuosity, he was plagued by stage fright and performed rarely. He settled
in St Petersburg and helped the Schumanns during their R.ussian journey.
Herz, Henri (180688), Austrian composer and pianist. Settled in Paris in
1818. Popular and prolific, his facile style epitomized for Schumann the
low musical standards of the day.
Hiller, Ferdinand (1811-85), pianist and composer. A pupil of Hummel, Hiller

366 A P P E N D I X C

was unusually active in the musical life of his day (and counted among
his friends Berlioz, Chopin, Mendelssohn, and Schumann). He was
Schumann's predecessor in Dusseldorf, and recommended him for the
post. Conductor at Cologne from 1850.
Hummel, Johann Nepomuk (17781837), piano virtuoso, composer, and
teacher. Student of Mozart. In 1820, he was appointed Kapellmeister in
Weimar. Although aware of his conservative reputation, for a time Schumann hoped to become his student.
Joachim, Joseph (18311907), violinist and composer. Studied and performed
in Leipzig from 1843 to 1850. Schumann was enthralled with his virtuosity. Concertmaster at Hanover from 1853 to 1866, at which time he
established a close friendship with Brahms. From 1868, he was director
of the royal Hochschule fur Musik in Berlin.
Kalkbrenner, Friedrich (1788-1849), German pianist and composer who settled in Paris. One of the most famous teachers of his time; Schuncke
studied with him. Chopin briefly considered becoming his student.
Lind, Jenny (1820-87), singer. Known as the "Swedish Nightingale," she was
famed for her unpretentious nature and the beauty of her voice (particularly the upper register). She appeared at several concerts with the Schumanns, and he was much taken with her musical ability and selflessness.
Louis Ferdinand, Prince (1772-1806), distinguished pianist and composer.
Student of Dussek and nephew of Frederick the Great, he was one of
the most promising composers of his generation. He was killed at the
battle of Saalfeld.
Marschner, Heinrich (1795-1861), leading composer of opera in the 1820s
and 1830s. Kapellmeister at Hanover from 1831 to 1859. His most popular operas dealt with the supernatural and were representative of the
contemporary fascination with "Gothick" terror.
Meyerbeer, Giacomo (1791-1864), most popular composer of opera of his
day (dating from the Paris production in 1831 of Robert le diable). Meyerbeer composed little, but attempted to make an unforgettable spectacle
of each of his productions. Schumann was convinced that Meyerbeer
was more concerned with fame and money than with dedication and
service to Art.
Moscheles, Ignaz (17941870), piano virtuoso and composer. Active in English musical life, beginning with his first appearance with the London
Philharmonic in 1821. He was a good friend of Mendelssohn. Schumann, in his youth, hoped to become Moscheles's pupil.
Novalis (17721801), pseudonym for Friedrich Leopold von Hardenberg.
Poet and novelist, best known for the melancholy "Hymns to the
Night," and the symbol of the unattainable blue flower (found in his
novel Heinrich von Ofterdingen).

Personalia 367
Reinick, Robert (1805-52), poet and painter. Schumann set many of his poems to music, and turned to him for assistance in the creation of
Genoveva.
Rellstab, Ludwig (17991860), music critic and pianist. Student of Ludwig
Berger. Founder in 1830 of Iris im Gebiet der Tonkunst, and long a major
figure in German music criticism.
Rethel, Alfred (181659), artist. Active in many genres, including historical
painting and book illustration. Best known for his macabre series of
wood engravings, Another Dance of Death. Rethel went insane and, like
Schumann, spent time in Endenich.
Richter, Johann Paul Friedrich, known as Jean Paul (1763-1825), prolific
German novelist. Major works include Hesperus (1795), Titan (1803), and
Flegeljahre (Walt and Vult) (1805). Jean Paul's writings are fanciful, poetic,
and distinctive. Schumann was fascinated by them, and during the 18305
used several as a source of inspiration for his music.
Richter, Ludwig (180384), artist. Known for his painting, especially landscapes and imaginative themes (St Genevieve in the Forest), as well as book
illustrations. Schumann became a good friend and for a time taught composition to Richter's son.
Rietz, Julius (1812-77), cellist, composer, and conductor. Director of the Gewandhaus Orchestra from 1848 to 1861. He preceded Hiller as music
director in Dusseldorf.
Schuncke, Ludwig (1810-34), pianist and composer. He was a child prodigy,
and traveled to Paris, where he became a student of Kalkbrenner. Although they knew one another for only about a year, he was perhaps
Schumann's closest friend.
Spohr, Ludwig (17841859), violinist and composer. Appointed Kapellmeister
in Kassel in 1822. His operas (especially Faust and Jessonda) and nine
symphonies were highly regarded. Schumann was eager to gain his support, but Spohr found much of Schumann's music too unconventional.
Thibaut, Anton Friedrich Justus (1774-1840), professor of law at Heidelberg
University. A distinguished musical amateur, his love of early music inspired his book Purity in Music. Schumann read it several times and held
it in high esteem.

A P P E N D I X

Select Bibliography

Thematic Catalogue and Listing of First Editions

Hofmann, Kurt. Die Erstdrucke der Werke von Robert Schumann. Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1979.
Hofmann, Kurt and Keil, Siegmar. Robert Schumann: Thematisches Verzeichnis samtlichen im
Druck erschienen musikalischen Werke. 5th ed. Hamburg: Schuberth, 1982.

Correspondence, Diaries, and Writings by Schumann

Erler, Hermann. Robert Schumann's Leben: Aus seinen Briefen geschildert. 2 vols. Berlin: Ries &
Erler, 1887.
Holde, Artur. "Suppressed Passages in the Brahms-Joachim Correspondence Published for
the First Time," The Musical Quarterly XLV (1959), pp. 312-24.
Jansen, F. Gustav. "Briefwechsel zwischen Robert Franz und Robert Schumann," Die Musik
VIII (1908/09), pp. 280-91; 346-59.
Kross, Siegfried, ed. Briefe und Notizen Robert und Clara Schumanns. 2nd ed. Bonn: Bouvier
Verlag, 1982.
Schumann, Clara and Schumann, Robert. Briefwechsel: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, ed. Eva Weissweiler. 2 vols. Frankfurt am Main: Stroemfeld/Roter Stern, 1984-.
Schumann, Clara and Schumann, Robert. The Complete Correspondence of Clara and Robert
Schumann, ed. Eva Weissweiler. Trans. Hildegard Fritscht and Ronald L. Crawford. 2
vols. New York: Lang, 1994-.
Schumann, Clara and Schumann, Robert. The Marriage Diaries, trans. P. Ostwald. Boston:
Northeastern University Press, 1993.
Schumann, Robert. Briefe. Neue Folge, ed. F. Gustav Jansen. Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hartel,
1904.
Schumann, Robert. Briefe und Gedichte aus dem Album Robert und Clara Schumanns, ed. Wolfgang Boetticher. Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag fur Musik, 1981.
Schumann, Robert. Gesammelte Schriften uber Musik und Musiker, ed. Martin Kreisig. 2 vols.
Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1914.
Schumann, Robert. Haushaltbucher, 1837-1856, ed. Gerd Nauhaus. 2 vols. Leipzig: VEB
Deutscher Verlag fur Musik, 1982.

368

Select Bibliography 369

Schumann, Robert. Jugendbriefe, ed. Clara Schumann. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1886.
Schumann, Robert. Der junge Schumann: Dichtungen und Briefe, ed. Alfred Schumann. Leipzig:
Insel-Verlag, 1917.
Schumann, Robert. Letters, ed. Karl Storck. Trans. H. Bryant. New York: Blom, 1971 (reprint of 1907 edition).
Schumann, Robert. ManuskripteBriefeSchumannianaKatalog Nr. 188. Tutzing: Musikantiquariat Hans Schneider, 1974.
Schumann, Robert. The Musical World of Robert Schumann: A Selection from Schumann's Own
Writings, ed. and trans. Henry Pleasants. London: Gollancz, 1965.
Schumann, Robert. Tagebucher: 18271838, ed. Georg Eismann. Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag fur Musik, 1971.
Schumann, Robert. Tagebucher: 1836-1854, ed. Gerd Nauhaus. Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag
fur Musik, 1987.

Books
Abraham, Gerald, ed. Schumann: A Symposium. London: Oxford University Press, 1952.
Bischoff, Bodo. Monument fur Beethoven: Die Entwicklung der Beethoven-Rezeption Robert Schumanns. Cologne: Verlag Dohr, 1994.
Boetticher, Wolfgang. Robert Schumanns Klaviewerke: Teil I: Opp. 16; Teil II: Opp. 713. 2
vols. Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshofen's Verlag, 1976, 1984.
Brion, Marcel. Schumann and the Romantic Age. Trans. G. Sainsbury. London: Collins, 1956.
Daverio, John. Robert Schumann: Herald of a "New Poetic Age." New York: Oxford University
Press, 1997.
Eismann, Georg. Robert Schumann: Ein Quellenwerk ubersein Leben und Schaffen. 2 vols. Leipzig:
Breitkopf & Hartel, 1956.
Finson, Jon. Robert Schumann and the Study of Orchestral Composition: The Genesis of the First
Symphony op. 38. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989.
Finson, Jon W. and Todd, R. Larry, eds. Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on Their Music
and Its Context. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1984.
Fischer-Dieskau, Dietrich. Robert SchumannWords and Music: The Vocal Compositions. Portland: Amadeus Press, 1988.
Hallmark, Rufus. The Genesis of Schumann's Dichterliebe. Ann Arbor: UMI Press, 1976.
Jansen, F. Gustav. Die Davidsbundler. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1883.
Kapp, Reinhard. Studien zum Spatwerk Robert Schumanns. Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1984.
Kast, Paul, ed. Schumanns rheinische Jahre. Dusseldorf: Droste, 1981.
Litzmann, Berthold. Clara SchumannEin Kunstkrleben: Nach Tagebuchern und Briefen. 3 vols.
Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1971 (reprint of 1908 edition).
Marston, Nicholas. Schumann: Fantasie Op. 17. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press,
1992.
Mayeda, Akio. Robert Schumanns Weg zur Symphonie. Zurich: Atlantis, 1992.
Niecks, Frederick. Robert Schumann. London: J. M. Dent, 1925.
Ostwald, Peter. Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985.
Ozawa, Kazuko. Quellenstudien zu Robert Schumanns Lieder nach Adelbert von Chamisso. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1989.
Reich, Nancy B. Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1985.
Sams, Eric. The Songs of Robert Schumann. 3rd edition. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University
Press, 1993.

370 A P P E N D I X D
Schumann, Eugenie. The Memoirs of Eugenie Schumann. New York: Dial, 1927.
Schumann, Eugenie. Robert Schumann: Ein Lebensbild meines Vaters. Leipzig: Koehler & Amelang, 1931.
Taylor, Ronald. Robert Schumann: His Life and Work. New York: Universe Books, 1982.
Todd, R. Larry, ed. Schumann and His World. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,
1994.
Walker, Alan, ed. Robert Schumann: The Man and His Music. London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1972.
Wasielewski, Wilhelm Joseph von. Robert Schumann: Eine Biographie. 4th ed. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1906.

Articles
Abert, Hermann. "Robert Schumann's 'Genoveva'," Zeitschrift der Internationalen Musikgesellschaft XI (1910), pp. 277-89.
Abraham, Gerald. "Schumann's Op. II and III," in Slavonic and Romantic Music. London:
Faber and Faber, 1968, pp. 261-66.
Dadelson, Georg von. "Robert Schumann und die Musik Bachs," Archiv furMusikwissenschaft

xiv (1957), pp- 46-59-

Deutsch, Otto Erich. "The Discovery of Schubert's Great C-major Symphony: A Story in
Fifteen Letters," The Musical Quarterly XXXVIII (1952), pp. 528-32.
Draheim, Joachim. "Schumann und Shakespeare," Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik CXLI (1981),
pp. 237-44.
Dusella, Reinhold. "Symphonisches in den Skizzenbuchern Schumanns," in Kross, Siegfried,
ed. Probleme der symphonischen Tradition im 19. Jahrhundert. Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1990,
pp. 203-24.
Eismann, Georg. "Zu Robert Schumanns letzten Kompositionen," Beitrage zur MusikwissenschaftXXVUl (1968), pp. 151-157.
Finson, Jon. "Schumann, Popularity, and the Overture, Scherzo, und Finale, Opus 52," The
Musical Quarterly LXIX (1983), pp. 126.
Finson, Jon W "Schumann's Mature Style and the Album of Songs for the Young," The Journal
of Musicology VIII (1990), pp. 22750.
Fiske, Roger. "A Schumann Mystery," The Musical Times CV (1964), pp. 57478.
Gulke, Peter. "Zu Robert Schumanns 'Rheinischer Sinfonie'," Beitrage zur Musikurissenschaft
XXI (1974), PP- I23-35Hallmark, Rufus. "The Ruckert Lieder of Robert and Clara Schumann," 19th-Century Music
XIV (1990-91), pp. 3-30.
Jensen, Eric Frederick. "Explicating Jean Paul: Robert Schumann's Program for Papillons,
Op. 2," 19th-Century Music XXII (1998-99), pp. 127-44.
Jensen, Eric Frederick. "A New Manuscript of Robert Schumann's Waldszenen Op. 82," The
Journal of Musicology VII (1989), pp. 6989.
Jensen, Eric Frederick. "Norbert Burgmuller and Robert Schumann," The Musical Quarterly
LXXIV (1990), pp. 550-65.
Jensen, Eric Frederick. "Schumann at Endenich," The Musical Times CXXXIX (1998, March
and April), pp. 1019; 1424.
Jensen, Eric Frederick. "Schumann, Hummel, and 'The Clarity of a Well-Planned Composition,' Studia Musicologica XL (1999), pp. 5970.
Kross, Siegfried. "Aus der Friihgeschichte von Robert Schumanns Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik,"
Die Musikforschung XXXIV (1981), pp. 42345.
Laux, Karl. " 'Dresden ist doch gar zu schon'Schumann in der sachsischen Hauptstadt
Eine Ehrenrettung," in Moser, Hans Joachim and Rebling, Eberhard, eds. Robert Schumann: Aus Anlass seines 100 Todestages. Leipzig: VEB Verlag, 1956, pp. 2542.

Select Bibliography 371

Lester, Joel. "Robert Schumann and Sonata Forms," 19th-Century Music XVIII (199495),
pp. 189-210.
Lippman, Edward A. "Theory and Practice in Schumann's Aesthetics," Journal of the American
Musicological Society XVII (1964), pp. 31045.
Mintz, Donald. "Schumann as an Interpreter of Goethe's Faust," Journal of the American
Musicological Society XIV (1961), pp. 235-56.
Myers, Rollo H. "Finding a Lost Schumann Concerto," in Aprahamian, Felix, ed. Essays
on Music: An Anthology from 'The Listener'. London: Cassell, 1967, pp. 22327.
Nauhaus, Gerd. "Der Rose Pilgerfahrt op. 112: Schumanns Abschied von Oratorium," in
Appel, Bernhard R., ed. Schumann in Dusseldorf: Werke-Texte-Interpretationen. Mainz:
Schott, 1993, pp. 17999.
Newcomb, Anthony. "Once More 'Between Absolute and Program Music': Schumann's
Second Symphony," Nineteenth-Century Music VII (198384), pp. 23350.
Roe, Stephen. "The Autograph Manuscript of Schumann's Piano Concerto," The Musical Times
CXXXI (1990), pp. 77-79Roesner, Linda Correll. "Schumann's 'Parallel' Forms," 19th-Century MusicXIV (199091),
pp. 265-78.
Roesner, Linda Correll. "Schumann's Revisions in the First Movement of the Piano Sonata
in G Minor, Op. 22," Nineteenth-Century Music I (1977-78), pp. 97-109.
Roesner, Linda Correll. "Tonal Strategy and Poetic Content in Schumann's C-major Symphony, Op. 61," in Kross, Siegfried, ed. Probleme der symphonischen Tradition im 19. Jahrhundert. Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1990, pp. 295306.
Sams, Eric. "Politics, Literature, and People in Schumann's Op. 136," The Musical Times
CIX (1968), pp. 25-27.
Sams, Eric. "Schumann and Faust," The Musical Times CXIII (1972), pp. 543-46.
Schnapp, Friedrich. "Robert Schumann and Heinrich Heine," The Musical Quarterly XI
(1925), pp. 599-616.
Schoppe, Martin. "Schumanns fruhe Texte und Schriften," in Mayeda, Akio and Niemoller,
Klaus Wolfgang, eds. Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretationen. Mainz: Schott, 1987,
pp. 7-15.
Shitomirski, Daniel. "Schumann in Russland," in Sammelbande der Robert-SchumannGesellschaft, Vol. I. Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag fur Musik, 1961, pp. 1947.
Siegel, Linda. "A Second Look at Schumann's Genoveva," The Music Review XXXVI (1975),
pp. 17-43Sietz, Reinhold. "Zur Textgestaltung von Robert Schumanns 'Genoveva'," Die Musikforschung XXIII (1970), pp. 395-410.
Temperley, Nicholas. "Schumann and Sterndale Bennett," 19th-Century MusicXII (198889),
pp. 207-20.
Truscott, Harold. "The Evolution of Schumann's Last Period," The ChesterianXXXl (1957),
pp. 7684, 103111.
Turchin, Barbara. "Schumann's Conversion to Vocal Music: A Reconsideration," The Musical
Quarterly LXVII (1981), pp. 392-404.
Wendt, Matthias. "Zu Robert Schumanns Skizzenbiichern," in Mayeda, Akio and Niemofler, Klaus Wolfgang, eds. Schumanns Werke: Text und Interpretationen. Mainz: Schott,
1987, pp. 101-14.

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Index

Berwald, Franz, 200, 364

Blanche, Emile, 332
Blechen, Carl, 282, 325
Bockmuhl, Robert, 307
Boger, Dr., 278
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 2, 4, 5, 31, 188, 232
Bonaventura, 171
Bonn, 162, 270, 271, 280, 312, 315, 316,

Abelard, Pierre, 42
Aeschylus, 43
Alexis, Willibald, 26, 30
Alfieri, Vittorio, 30, 43
Alkan, Charles Henri Valentin, 364
Amsterdam, 135, 274, 278
Anacreon, 9, 43
Andersen, Hans Christian, 45, 192, 299, 341
Aranyi, Jelly d', 308
Arnim, Bettina von, 27, 321, 322, 323, 325,
326, 330, 331, 332, 364
Arnim, Ludwig Achirn von, 26, 41, 43, 108,
171, 322, 341, 364
Arts, interrelationship of, 39
Augsburg, 15, 31

333
Bottger, Adolph, 200, 201, 214
Brahms, Johannes, 153, 208, 271, 275, 301,
307, 309, 310, 311, 312, 316, 317, 318,
319, 320, 321, 322, 324, 325, 333, 334,

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 13, 18, 29, 65, 81,

82, 87, 96, 102, 103, 138, 142, 143, 144,
145, 146, 161, 196, 210, 218, 221, 263,
269, 284, 289, 305, 306, 309
Bargiel, Marianne, 23, 138, 312
Barth, J. A., 112
Bayreuth, 15, 16, 51
Becker, Ernst, 125, 140, 170, 198, 271
Becker, Julius, 107, 236
Becker, Rupert, 271, 277, 278
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 7, 40, 48, 63, 76, 77,
82, 85, 86, 100, 101, 102, 108, 115, 133,
143, 146, 155, 159, 160, 162, 198, 199,
200,

202,

206,

210,

211,

238,

240,

262,

269, 271, 283, 288, 291, 304, 305, 315,

322, 335
Belgium, 136, 178, 263
Bendemann, Eduard, 224, 265, 266
Bennett, William Sterndale, 116, 117, 149,
199, 229, 260, 364
Beranger, Pierre Jean de, 195
Berger, Ludwig, 76
Berlin, 138, 139, 172, 191, 201, 204, 225,
229, 262, 263, 308, 312, 317
Berlioz, Hector, 39, 104, 107, 114, 135, 142,
182, 183, 184, 202, 218, 223

344
Breitkopf & Hartel, 17, 80, 133, 183, 221,
227, 230, 231, 261, 267, 273
Brendel, Franz, 30, 175, 189, 197, 215, 241,
364
Brentano, Clemens, 26, 43, 108, 161, 322,
364
Bulwer-Lytton, Lord, Edward, 43
Burgmuller, Norbert, 114, 200, 301, 310,
365
Burns, Robert, 43
Byron, George Gordon, Lord, 4, 43, 81, 130,
183, 222, 229, 237, 238, 254-56, 336

Calderon de la Barca, Pedro, 43, 237

Callot, Jacques, 50
Carlsbad, 7, 190
Carlyle, Thomas, 51, 52
Carus, Agnes, 12, 13, 77, 104
Carus, Carl Gustav, 21820, 224, 233,
235
Carus, Ernst August, 12, 22, 24, 69, 70,
104
Castelli, Ignaz, 72
Cellini, Benvenuto, 43
Cervantes, Miguel de, 4
Chamisso, Adelbert von, 43, 194, 195, 196,
197, 365
Cherubini, Luigi, 7, 365

373

374 . Index
Chopin, Frederic, 60, 65, 67, 77, 85, 88, 109,
no, 114, 117, 128, 151, 159, 171, 184,
199, 223
Christel, 66, 67, 68, 106, 124, 314, 329
Clement, Felix, 282
Cohn, Martin, 278
Colditz, 12, 334
Cologne, 25, 38, 233, 241, 300, 312, 334
Contessa, C. W, 171
Cooper, James Fenimore, 43
Copernicus, 316
Coriolanus, 42, 55
Custine, Astolphe, Marquis de, 187, 188
Czerny, Carl, 7, 103
Dante, 43
David, Felicien, 176
David, Ferdinand, 116, 205, 209, 222, 264,
365
Denmark, 179, 185, 186
Deschamps, Antoni, 332
Dietrich, Albert, 271, 272, 309
Dormer, Hermann, 5
Donizetti, Gaetano, 133
Dorn, Heinrich, 59, 64, 65, 72, 81, 104, 112,
117, 138, 144, 148, 190, 192, 224, 287,
365
Dresden, 2, 9, 18, 69, 123, 128, 139, 178,
185, 190, 191, 204, 217, 218, 219, 220,
222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 232, 233,
234, 235, 241, 245, 260, 262, 265, 283,
287, 295, 299, 336, 339
Dreyschock, Alexander, 114
Droste-Hulshoff, Annette von, 43
Dufourd, Claudine, 134
Durante, Francesco, 29
Durer, Albrecht, 238
Dusseldorf, 178, 204, 226, 227, 233, 234, 235,
257, 259-63, 268, 270, 271, 274, 276,
301, 304, 305, 306, 312, 318, 319, 322,
333

Ehlert, Louis, 176, 210

Eichendorff, Josef von, 43, 44, 45, 161, 194,
34i
Einert, Wilhelm, 138
Endenich, 280, 282, 310, 312, 313, 314, 315,
316, 317, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324,
325, 326, 330, 331, 332, 334, 335, 344
England, 9, 27, 136, 179, 212, 260, 261, 318,
333

Ernst, Heinrich Wilhelm, 33, 34, 38

Euripides, 43
Fetis, Francois-Joseph, 104
Field, John, 60, 62, 365
Fielding, Henry, 43
Fink, Gottfried Wilhelm, 104
Flechsig, Emil, I, 4, 11, 12, 13, 14, 18, 19,
24, 26, 28, 47, 53, 66, 73, 212
Forcellini, Egidio, 9
Forkel, Johann Nicolaus, 14344
Frankenberg, Adolph, 339
Franz, Robert, 206, 220, 365
Fricken, Ernestine von, 66, 118, 119, 120,
121, 122, 123, 127, 129, 134, 148, 149,
161, 314
Friedrich, Caspar David, 219
Froebel, Friedrich, 335, 338, 339
Gade, Niels, 153, 182, 184, 191, 257, 340,
365
Geibel, Emanuel, 43, 194, 294, 295, 340
Genelli, Bonaventura, 157, 158
Gerold, Carl, 130
Goethe, J. W. von, 7, 43, 80, 98, 108, 166,
167, 183, 188, 194, 222, 239-42, 254,
255, 256, 304, 316, 322, 336, 340
Goldschmidt, M., 141
Goldsmith, Oliver, 43
Gontard, Susette, 310
Gorres, Joseph von, 26
Grabbe, Christian Dietrich, 46, 47
Grillparzer, Franz, 43
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm, 99
Grimm, Julius Otto, 275, 315, 316
Grosse, Carl Friedrich, 41
Gunderrode, Caroline von, 325
Gutzkow, Karl, 43
Halle, Charles, 172
Hamburg, 204, 234, 271, 317
Handel, George Frederic, 29
Hanover, 275, 308, 317, 319
Hanslick, Eduard, 324
Haring, Wilhelm. See Alexis, Willibald
Hartel, Hermann, 158, 234, 313
Hartmann, C. H. E, in, 112
Hartmann, Mathilde, 315
Hasenklever, Richard, 278, 312
Haslinger, Tobias, 130, 131, 132, 149
Hauff, Wilhelm, 43

Index 375
Hauptmann, Moritz, 148, 160, 204, 211, 21516, 221, 272, 365
Haydn, Franz Joseph, 6, 7, 13, 206, 207, 210,
211, 283
Hazlitt, William, 39, 281, 309
Hebbel, Friedrich, 45, 46, 243, 244, 245, 246,
247, 250, 295, 299
Heidelberg, 12, 15, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32,
33, 36, 46, 61, 65, 69, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88,
89, 108, 263
Heine, Heinrich, 15, 44, 46, 47, 135, 194,
195
Heinse, Gottlob Heinrich, 3
Heinse, Wilhelm, 43
Helbig, Carl G., 220, 226
Heller, Stephen, 54, 55, 105, 107, 112, 117,

135, 334, 365

Heloise, and Abelard, 42
Henselt, Adolph, 117, 137, 186, 187, 287, 365
Herlossohn, K. G. R., no
Hertel, Gottfried 9
Herwegh, Georg, 43
Herz, Henri, 7, 13, 114, 365
Hesse, Hermann, 106
Hiller, Ferdinand, 176, 191, 223, 226, 227,
228, 229, 233, 234, 235, 241, 242, 244,
259, 268, 269, 334, 365-66
Hirschbach, Hermann, 160, 193, 210
Hoffmann, E.T.A., 22, 23, 41, 43, 48, 49, 74,
78, 109, 166, 168, 169, 171, 222, 236,
237, 247, 299, 341
Hoffmann von Fallersleben, 340
Hofmeister, Friedrich, 17, 101, no, 205
Holderlin, Friedrich, 11, 47, 282, 310, 325
Holland, 136, 178, 179, 263, 268, 274, 276,
319
Homer, 43, 336
Horace, 43
Horn, Moritz, 270, 342, 343
Hiibner, Rudolf, 224
Hugo, Victor, 43, 184, 269
Humboldt, Alexander von, 43
Hummel, Johann Nepomuk, 7, 24, 25, 36,
43, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 85, 107, 118, 206,
366
Hunt, Leigh, 174
Hunten, Franz, 114
Huth, Louis, 243

Immermann, Karl, 43, 47, 239

Irving, Washington, 43
Italy, 30, 31, 35

Jacobi, J. G., 80
Jena, 56
Joachim, Joseph, 184, 270, 271, 272, 274, 275,
276, 277, 307, 308, 309, 310, 312, 318,
319, 320, 321, 324, 325, 331, 332, 334,
366
Kafka, Franz, 131
Kahlert, August, 220
Kalkbrenner, Friedrich, 7, 366
Kassel, 201, 204
Kerner, Justinus, 43, 80, 194
Kistner, Friedrich, 94, 152, 158, 307
Kleist, Heinrich von, 47, 48, 257
Knorr, Julius, 111, 112
Kohl, Robert, 339
Kossmaly, Carl, 132, 181, 212, 238
Krahe, Carl, 15
Kreischa, 232, 336
Kulmann, Elisabeth, 344
Kuntsch, Johann Gottfried, 5, 6, 7, 38, 65,
100, 144, 226, 235
Kurrer, Heinrich Wilhelm von, 15, 31
Laidlaw, Anna Robena, 172
Laube, Heinrich, 295
Laurens, Jean-Joseph-Bonaventure, 270
Leipzig, 2, 3, 4, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 21, 22,
23, 24, 25, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38,
45, 46, 50, 73, 76, 101, 108, 115, 118,
123, 125, 128, 131, 138, 139, 140, 178,
179, 182, 184, 188, 189, 191, 201, 215,
217, 218, 223, 224, 227, 232, 234, 235,
241, 245, 253, 266, 268, 275, 288, 313,

317,326

Leipzig Theater, 18, 64

Lenau, Nikolaus, 47, 48, 235, 282, 297, 299
Leo, Leonardo, 29
Leonardo da Vinci, 31
Lind, Jenny, 225, 234, 366
List, Emilie, 135, 136, 137
Liszt, Franz, 39, 96, 97, 128, 129, 140, 159,
162, 172, 183, 186, 202, 210, 218, 223,
228, 229, 235, 236, 255, 287, 304, 316,
317, 318, 337, 339
Loewe, Carl, 197, 213
London, 63, 131, 135
Lorenz, Oswald, 131, 189
Louis Ferdinand, Prince, 24, 32, 42, 84, 85,
144, 207, 366
Luther, Martin, 257, 261

376 Index
Lvov, A. P., 189
Lyser, Johann Peter, 96, 112
Macaulay, Thomas Babington, 43
Mahler, Gustav, 202
Marbach, Oswald, 238
Marcello, Benedetto, 29
Mdrchen, 49, 299, 341, 342, 343, 344
Marpurg, Friedrich Wilhelm, 65, 98
Marschner, Heinrich, 149, 237, 239, 255, 366
Mayer, Charles, 103
Mehul, Etienne, 7
Mendelssohn, Felix, ix, 76, 114, 115, 116,
I33, 139. 143. 182, 184, 185, 186, 191,
200, 205, 207, 211, 218, 219, 223, 224,
226, 227, 228, 229, 233, 253, 254, 259,
260, 276, 277, 287, 288, 296, 304, 306,

335, 336
Metternich, Prince Clemens Wenzel von,
130
Meyerbeer, Giacomo, ix, 114, 135, 228, 234,
238, 245, 304, 366
Mittermaier, Karl Joseph, 28
Montalti, family of, 42
Moore, Thomas, 43, 212, 213, 214, 237
Morike, Eduard, 43
Moscheles, Ignaz, 7, 25, 32, 35, 36, 63, 68,
88, 94, 116, 124, 142, 150, 155, 157,
158, 159, 366
Moscow, 42, 186, 187, 188
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 7, 13, 39, 46, 49,
60, 107, 160, 200, 206, 210, 211, 218,
255, 283, 288, 335
Muller, Christian, 72
Muller, Maler, 243
Murat, Joachim, 26
Napoleon I. See Bonaparte, Napoleon
Naubert, Christiane Benedicte, 41
Nerval, Gerard de, 332
Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, x, 42, 47, 48, 49,
54, 56, no, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115,
116, 117, 124, 127, 129, 130, 131, 132,
133, 137, 151, 158, 165, 167, 168, 175,
178, 181, 182, 183, 185, 189, 190, 210,
217, 227, 239, 271, 276, 296, 317, 318,
339
Noel, Richard, 278
Nottebohm, Gustav, 297
Novalis, 40, 43, 78, 337, 341, 342, 366
Novello, Clara, 166

Ortlepp, Ernst, 103, in

Ossian, 257
Otto, Franz, 107, 110
Paganini, Niccolo, 33, 43, 61, 62, 86, 95, 96,
97, 107, 126, 151, 218, 320, 321
Palestrina, Giovanni Pierluigi da, 29
Paris, 44, 61, 68, 76, 86, 90, 131, 133, 134,
135, 136, 138, 153, 172, 178, 183, 184,
223, 229
Pasta, Giuditta, 31
Pellico, Sylvio, 43, 312
Pestalozzi, Heinrich, 338
Peters, Dr., 313, 314, 315, 316, 317
Petrarch, 30, 43
Platen, August von, 43
Pleyel, Ignaz, 7, 13
Pohl, Richard, 257, 262, 267
Ponsard, Francois, 43
Program music 39, 40
Quincey, Thomas de, 26
Rachel, Elisa, 153
Racine, Jean, 43
Rakemann, Louis, 129
Raphael, 39
Reinick, Robert, 194, 242, 243, 244, 367
Reinecke, Carl, 185, 242
Reissiger, Carl, 223, 224
Reissmann, August, 282
Rellstab, Ludwig, 57, 74, 90, 91, 103, 104,

337, 367
Rethel, Alfred, 282, 326, 367
Reuter, Moritz, 71, 75
Rhineland, 25, 26, 54, 234, 263, 267
Richarz, Franz, 313, 314, 3:6, 323, 324,
325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332,
333
Richter, Jean Paul, 4, 13, 14, 15, 16, 19, 30,
33, 40, 41, 42, 48, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55,
57, 74, 80, 81, 82, 83, 87, 88, 89, 90, 94,
99, 105, 108, 113, 117, 130, 143, 146,
150, 152, 153, 160, 161, 171, 177, 283,
335, 337, 338, 367
Flegeljahre 19, 51, 53, 55, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94,
108, 150, 151
Richter, Ludwig, 224, 230, 245, 340, 367
Ries, Ferdinand, 7
Rietschel, Ernst, 224
Rietz, Julius, 233, 246, 276, 296, 367

Index 377
Righini, Vincenzo, 7
Roller, Eduard, 73
Romanticism, ix, 32, 44, 55, 200
Rosen, Gisbert, 15, 16, 18, 25, 26, 27, 38, 47
Rossini, Gioacchino, 31, 86
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 43
Rubens, Peter Paul, 263
Ruckert, Friedrich, 43, 194, 295, 306
Rudel, Gottlob, 19, 22, 35, 37
Rufmatscha, Johann, 297
Runge, Philipp Otto, 337
Russia, 2, 68, 153, 186, 187, 189, 190, 239
Sand, George, 43, 184
Scha'fler, Julius, 206
Schiller, Friedrich, 4, 42, 43, 222, 304, 316,
340
Schlegel, August Wilhelm, 43, 55
Schlegel, Friedrich, 43, 152, 163
Schneeberg, 72, 73, 101
Schneider, Friedrich 7
Schroder-Devrient, Wilhelmine, 223
Schubert, Franz, 13, 24, 30, 32, 40, 63, 81,
83, 85, 114, 133, 196, 200, 201, 277, 295
Schuberth, Julius, 230
Schulze, Ernst, 43
Schumann, August, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 15, 21,
37, 41, 43, 50, 53, 61, 75, 137
Schumann, Carl, 5, 14, 27, 38, 74, 75, 124,
186, 229, 232
Schumann, Clara, x, 22, 23, 43, 55, 61, 64,
70, 72, 75, 77, 78, 104, 106, 109, 119,
120, 121, 122, 123, 141, 142, 143, 146,
151, 153, 154, 155, 157, 159, 161, 162,
163, 164, 166, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173,
183, 185, 190, 193, 194, 197, 198, 205,
209,

210,

217,

2l8,

219,

220,

225,

228,

229,

232,

233,

235, 236,

221,

260,

263,

265,

268,

270,

272,

273,

278,

275,

224,

282, 291, 301, 308, 311, 329, 335, 336,

337, 338, 340
Accounts of Schumann's final illness, 276,
277, 278, 279
Compositions, 82, 102, 155, 157, 158, 163,
165, 167, 171, 291
Courtship, 12240
Endenich, 31226, 330, 333, 334
Married life, 17481
Russian tour, 18689
Schumann, Eduard, 5, 14, 30, 111, 124, 125,
132, 137, 172

Schumann, Elise, 177, 225, 338, 339

Schumann, Emil, 222, 225, 226, 336
Schumann, Emilie, 5, 10, 11, 75
Schumann, Eugenie, 260, 308, 334, 340
Schumann, Ferdinand, 222
Schumann, Friedrich, 4
Schumann, Johanne Christiane Schnabel, 3, 4,
5, 11, 14, 19, 25, 27, 30, 34, 35, 36, 37,
38, 40, 58, 59, 62, 63, 65, 68, 69, 73, 75,
78, 79, 83, 104, 111, 118, 119, 123, 234
Schumann, Julie, 222, 339
Schumann, Julius, 5, 74, 75
Schumann, Ludwig, 222, 334
Schumann, Marie, 177, 185, 225, 229, 232,
279, 280, 335, 338, 339, 340
Schumann, Robert,
As conductor, 227-28, 259-60, 262-65,
268, 272-74
Financial concerns, 18082, 190, 229, 231
Hand injury, 6971, 83
Improvisation, 7, 8, 61, 83
Interest in cipher, 15255
Instrumentation, 101, 202-04, 242, 301
Mental illness, II, 74, 75, 129, 189-91, 21921, 270, 277-79, 282, 315-16, 319, 323,
326-32
Musical sketches, 56, 77, 84, 85, 86, 98, 99,
100, 102, 194, 210, 211, 245
On education, 336, 33839
Operatic projects, 180, 222, 236-39, 256,
304
Personality, 73, 74, 175-76, 265, 266
Role in Dresden revolt, 232-33
View of program music, 142-43
Writings 8, 9, 14, 40, 41, 42, 43, 57, 100,
107, 110, 113, 114, 115, 151, 188, 221,
267, 269, 271, 275

Compositions
Variations op. 1, 32, 62, 72, 82, 86,
87, 88, 89, 100, 101, 104, 108, 118
Accompaniments to Bach's Partitas, Sonatas,
and Suites, 269, 306
Adagio and Allegro op. 70, 231
Adventlied op. 71, 306
Albumblatter op. 124, 86, 103, 267
Album for the Young op. 68, 229-30, 231,
294, 335, 340
Allegro op. 8, 72, 86, 94, 95, 97, 119
Andante and Variations op. 46, 188, 206,
207, 225

378 Index
Schumann, Robert (continued)
Arabesque op. 18, 133, 146, 170, 181
Ballszenen op. 109, 299
Belsatzar op. 57, 194
Bilder aus dent Osten op. 66, 44, 294
Blumenstiick op.19, 133, 146, 170, 181
Bride of Messina Overture op. 100, 261,
282, 304
Biinte Blatter op. 99, 199
Canon on "An Alexis" WoO 4, 84
Carnaval op.9, xiii, 82, 119, 142, 147, 149,
150, 151, 152, 155, 159, 172, 173, 230
Cello Concerto op. 129, 307, 309
Violin arrangement, 307
Concert-Allegro op. 134, 270, 274, 307, 309
Concerto for Four Horns op. 86, 295, 296
Concert sans orchestre (Piano Sonata No. 3)
op. 14, 128, 130, 147, 148, 149, 156,

157, 172
The Corsair, 238, 240, 242
Davidsbundlertanze op. 6, 107, 128, 165, 167
Dichterliebe op. 48, 44, 194, 195, 223
Drei Fantasiestiicke op. 111, 261, 299
Drei Gesange op. 31, 195
Drei Gesange op. 62, 227, 295
Drei Klaviersonaten fur die jugend op. 118,
270, 341
Drei Romanzen op. 28, 170, 171, 181
Drei Romanzen op. 94, 294
Early Lieder, 80, 81, 98, 159
Etudes on the Allegretto from Beethoven's
Symphony No. 7 WoO 31, 85, 86, 102
Etudes symphoniques op. 13, 119, 125, 130,
145, 148, 149, 155
Fantasie op. 17, 40, 128, 147, 155, 161, 162,
163, 164, 165, 198, 230, 291
Fantasiestiicke op. 12, 50, 77, 128, 165, 166,
172, 173
Fantasiestiicke op. 73, 231, 294
Fantasiestucke op. 88, 180-81, 206, 207
Fantasy for Violin op. 131, 270, 275
Faschingsschwank aus Wien op. 26, 133, 156,
157, 169,
First Piano Sonata op. II, 85, 107, 123,
128, 147, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160,
161
Four Duets op. 34, 182
Four Fugues op. 72, 171, 222, 284
Four Marches op. 76, 233, 282, 295
Four Pieces for Piano op. 32, 133, 144, 170
Five Songs by Robert Burns op. 55, 227,
294, 295

Frauenliebe und Leben op. 42, 196, 197, 198,

207, 291
Funf Lieder op. 40, 45
Funf Stucke im Volkston op. 102, 294
Genoveva op. 81, 44, 46, 213, 225, 229,
231, 232, 234, 235, 243, 244, 256, 258,
281, 294, 297, 317, 343
Gesange der Fruhe op. 133, 270, 309, 310,
311
Hermann and Dorothea Overture op. 136,
261, 282, 304
Humoreske op. 20, 133, 170, 171
Impromptus op. 5, 73, 78, 86, 101, 102, 104,
128, 144
Intermezzi op. 4, 72, 82, 86, 97, 98, 99,
100, 101, 104, 147, 155, 165
Introduction and Allegro op. 92, 295, 296,
307
Jagdlieder op. 137, 295
Julius Caesar Overture op. 128, 56, 261,
268, 282, 304
Kinderball op. 130, 270, 341
Kinderszenen op. 15, 77, 128, 168, 186, 337,
338
The King's Son op. 116, 257, 258, 261, 282
Kreisleriana op. 16, 49, 50, 128, 130, 146,
168, 169, 173, 207, 275
Lieder op. 98a, 256, 305
Liederkreis op. 24, 44, 194, 195
Liederkreis op. 39, 44, 194, 196, 293
Lieder und Gesange op. 127, 56
The Luck of Edenhall op. 143, 257, 268
Madchenlieder op. 103, 261, 344
Manfred op. 115, 213, 229, 254-56, 266,
281, 295, 299
Marchenbilder op. 113, 299, 342
Miirchenerzahlungen op. 132, 270, 299, 309,
342
Mass op. 147, 266, 305, 306
Minnespiel op.101, 295
The Minstrel's Curse op. 139, 257, 258, 266,
282, 305
Nachtlied op. 108, 46, 295
Nachtstiicke op. 22, 50, 133, 170, 171, 172
Novelletten op. 21, 56, 128, 166, 167, 168,
173
Overture, Scherzo, and Finale op. 52, 180,
204, 205, 301
Paganini accompaniments, 320, 324
Paganini Etudes op. 3, 72, 86, 95, 96, 104,
172
Paganini Etudes op. 10, 86, 97, 172

Index 379
Papillons op. 2, xii, 32, 62, 63, 82, 86, 89,
90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 97, 98, 99, 103,
104,105, 150, 151
Paradise and the Pen op. 50, 180, 181, 185,
212-16, 225, 230, 231, 237, 242, 251,
260, 262, 264, 275, 343
Piano Concerto op. 54, 180, 204, 205, 206,
213, 222, 225, 226, 234, 268, 287, 296,
307, 309
Piano Concerto in C minor, 85
Piano Concerto in D minor, 133, 170, 287
Piano Concerto in E flat major, 13, 85
Piano Concerto in F major, 61, 84, 85, 94,
101
Piano Quartet op. 47, 180, 206, 207, 212
Piano Quartet WoO 32, 25, 32, 84, 100,
101
Piano Quintet op. 44, 180, 183, 188, 189,
206, 207, 212, 225, 228
Piano Trio No. 1 op.63, 225, 293, 294
Piano Trio No. 2 op. 80, 225, 293
Piano Trio No. 3 op. no, 261, 266, 305
The Pilgrimage of the Rose op. 112, 213, 261,
266, 274, 278, 342, 343
Polonaises WoO 20, 83, 89
The Princess and the Page op. 140, 257, 258,
266, 305
Proposed Klavierschule, 137
Psalm 150, 8, 80
Requiem op. 148, 266, 305, 306
Requiem for Mignon op. 98b, 213, 256, 305
Ritornelk op. 65, 228
Romances op. 69, 228
Romances op. 91, 228
Romances and Ballads op. 49, 195
Romances and Ballads op. 67, 228, 294
Romances and Ballads op. 75, 294
Romances for Cello, 309, 310
Scenes from Goethe's Faust WoO 3, 189,
191, 213, 220, 229, 239-42, 251, 254,
255, 268-69, 281, 291, 295, 307, 309,

343
Scho'n Hedivig op. 106, 299
Sechs Gedichte und Requiem op. 90, 48, 235,
297, 298
Sechs Gesange op. 89, 297
Sechs Gesange op. 107, 297
Second Piano Sonata op. 22, 128, 147, 156,

157, 159, 173

Seven Pieces in the Form of Fughettas op.
126, 269, 307
Sieben Lieder op. 104, 261, 344

Six Fugues on the Name "Bach" op. 60,

144, 222, 284, 289
Sketches for Pedal Piano op. 58, 284, 285
Sonata in F minor, 156
Song Album for the Young op. 79, 231,

294, 340
Spanische Liebeslieder op. 138, 295
Spanisches Liederspiel op. 74, 231, 294
String Quartets op. 41, 180, 182, 183, 188,
206, 209-212, 227, 230
Studies for Pedal Piano op. 56, 144, 222,
284, 285, 287
Symphony in C minor, 180, 199, 200
Symphony in G minor WoO 29, 56, 72,
73, 78, 100, 101
Symphony No. I op. 38, 133, 179, 180,
181, 182, 187, 188, 200-05, 207, 213,
214, 225, 230, 328
Symphony No. 2 op. 61, 204, 222, 224,
226, 287-93
Symphony No. 3 op. 97, 182, 261, 266,
282, 300, 301
Symphony No. 4 op. 120, 180, 205, 261,
268, 301-04
Theme in E flat WoO 24, 277, 280, 310,
3"
Toccata op. 7, 32, 84, 86, 103, 173
Variations on Chopin's Nocturne op. 15
no. 3, 85
Verzweifle nicht op. 93, 306
Viet Duette op. 78, 294
Vier Gesange op. 59, 294
Vier Husarenlieder op. 117, 261, 299
Violin Concerto WoO 23, 270, 307, 308,
309, 310
Violin Fantasy op. 131, 270, 275, 307, 308,
309
Violin Sonata No. 1 op. 105, 261, 266, 305
Violin Sonata No. 2 op. 121, 261, 305
Violin Sonata No. 3 WoO 27, 309
Waldszenen op. 82, 46, 341
Zwei Balladen op. 122, 299
ZwolfGedichte op. 35, 44, 181, 196
Zwolf Gedichte op. 37, 44
Zwolf vierhandige Klavierstucke fur kleine und
grosse Kinder op. 85, 34041
Schumann, Rosalie, 74, 75, 76, 125, 314
Schumann, Therese, 30, 125
Schuncke, Ludwig, 76, 103, 111, 112, 138,
226, 367
Scott, Walter, 4, 26, 43, 149, 239
Sechter, Simon, 297

380 Index
Sedlnitzsky, Countjoseph, 130, 131
Semmel, Moritz, 19, 30
Shakespeare, William, 55, 56, 57, 122, 168,
177, 183, 236, 237, 256, 269, 336
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 43, 217, 222
Sire, Simonin de, 70, 128
Slowacki, Julius, 237
Sobolewski, J. F. E., 158, 165
Sonnenberg, Franz Anton, 11
Sophocles, 43, 336
Spohr, Ludwig, ix, 200, 201, 204, 21112,
238, 239, 367
St. Petersburg, 178, 186, 187, 188
Stegmayer, Ferdinand, in
Stern, Julius, 263
Sterne, Laurence, 52
Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 43
Strindberg, August, 58
Sue, Eugene, 43
Switzerland, 30, 35, 263
Tausch, Julius, 260, 261, 264, 266, 268, 272,
273
Thackeray, William Makepiece, 17
Thalberg, Sigismond, 126, 179
Thibaut, Anton Friedrich Justus, 28, 29, 30,
34, 46, 367
Tieck, Ludwig, 41, 43, 45, 55, 108, 171, 243,
244, 245, 246, 247, 250, 299, 341
Topken, Theodor, 69, 83, 87, 88, 89, 95, 97,
103, 112, 117

Uhland, Johann Ludwig, 43, 340

United States of America, 135, 179, 187
Verhulst, Johann, 177, 207
Vienna, 34, 48, 63, 69, 76, 126, 129, 130,
131, 132, 133, 135, 137, 156, 170, 172,
173, 204, 225, 229, 262, 287, 317, 338
Vigenere, Blaise de, 152
Vittoria, Tomaso de, 29

Vogler, Abbe, 114

Voigt, Carl, 76
Voigt, Henriette, 76, 77, 89, 94, 112, 118,
119, 138, 149, 157, 207, 337
Volkmann, Robert, 216
Vulpius, Christian August, 41
Wackenroder, Heinrich, 238, 337
Wagner, Richard, ix, 39, 199, 202, 218, 223,
224, 227, 228, 232, 233, 239, 251, 253,
254
Wasielewski, Wilhelm Joseph von, 2, 10, 74,
220, 241, 254, 260, 262, 264, 269, 271,
282, 288, 300, 306, 312, 326
Weber, Bernhard Anselm, 7
Weber, Carl Maria von, 7, 9, 10, 39, 86, 88,
114, 223, 239, 251, 255
Weber, Gottfried, 65, 72, 95, 103
Weimar, 59, 60, 229, 241, 317
Wenzel, Ernst Ferdinand, 137
Wettig, Carl, 296, 297
Whistling, Friedrich, 295
Wieck, Alwin, 64
Wieck, Friedrich, 22, 23, 24, 31, 35, 36, 37,
38, 40, 43, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65,
66, 68, 69, 70, 71, 78, 84, 101, 104, 106,
108, 111, 118, 142, 159, 169, 172, 175,
182, 185, 190, 191, 217, 236
Opposes Clara's marriage, 12227, 129
130, 131, 133-40
Wiedebein, Gottlob, 20, 21, 80, 98, 108, 192,
296
Wielhorski, Count Michail, 187, 189
Wolf, Hugo, 282
Young, Edward, 3
Zschokke, Heinrich, 41
Zumsteeg, Johann Rudolf, 166
Zwickau, I, 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 16, 17, 18, 19, 25,
38, 40, 72, 75, 78, 101, 130, 131, 226