<h2>VI</h2>
<h3>SCHUMANN, THE “INTIMATE”</h3></div>
<p>Having finished with his Chopin group, the
pianist is apt to follow it with his Schumann
selections, and we meet with another original
musical genius. Robert Schumann was born at
Zwickau in June, 1810. His father was a book publisher
and was in hopes that the son would show literary
aptitude. In fact, the elder Schumann discouraged
Robert’s musical aspirations; and as a result, instead
of receiving early in life a systematic musical
training, his education was along other lines. He
studied law at Leipzig in 1828 and in Heidelberg in
1829, and was thus what is rare among musicians—a
composer with an academic education.</p>
<p>His meeting with the celebrated pianoforte teacher,
Frederick Wieck, the Leschetitzki of his day, determined
Schumann to enter upon a musical career. Wieck took
him into his home in Leipzig and he studied the pianoforte
with a view of becoming a virtuoso. In order
to gain greater freedom in fingering, he devised a
mechanical apparatus by which one finger was suspended
in a sling while the others played upon the keyboard.
Unfortunately, through the use of this contrivance
he strained the tendons of one hand and his
dream of a virtuoso’s career vanished. Meanwhile he
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_135' name='page_135'></SPAN>135</span>
had fallen in love with his teacher’s daughter, Clara
Wieck, and finally, after determined opposition on the
part of her father, married her in 1840. Later in life
a brain trouble from which he had suffered intermittently
became more severe, and in February, 1854, he
became possessed of the idea that Schubert’s spirit had
appeared to him and given him a theme to work out.
He abruptly left the room in which he was sitting with
some friends in his house at D�sseldorf and threw himself
into the Rhine. Some boatmen rescued him from
drowning, but he had to be taken to an asylum near
Bonn, where he died in July, 1856.</p>
<p>These circumstances in his life are mentioned here
not only because of their interest, but because they
explain some aspects of his music. Schumann was
of a brooding disposition, intensely introspective. Compared
with Chopin, his music lacks iridescence and
shows a want of brilliancy. This will be immediately
apparent if at a recital a pianist places the Schumann
pieces after a Chopin group, as he is apt to do for the
sake of the very contrast which they afford. But if
Schumann’s compositions are wanting in superficially
attractive brightness, they more than make up for it in
their profounder characteristics. All through them
one seems to hear a deep-sounding tone. One might
say that his works for the keyboard instrument are
pianoforte music for the viola, and for that reason they
appear to me so expressive and so appealing. The
harmonies are wonderfully compact. One feels after
striking a Schumann chord like stiffening the fingers
in order to hold it down more firmly, keep a grip on
it, and let it sound to its last echo.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_136' name='page_136'></SPAN>136</span></div>
<h4>Poet, Bourgeois, and Philosopher.</h4>
<p>In Schumann’s music the sensitive listener will find
a curious blending of poet, bourgeois, and philosopher.
He had the higher fancy, the warmth of the poet, a
bourgeois love of what was intimate and homely, and
the introspection of the philosopher. Sometimes he is
so introspective that he appears to me actually to be
burrowing in harmony like a mole. The melodies are
interwoven; sometimes the upper voice flutters lightly
down upon “contrapuntal collisions in the bass”; frequently
his rhythms are syncopated; melodies are
superimposed upon each other; he uses “imitations,”
canonic figuration, and often by introducing a single
note foreign to the scale, suddenly lowers or lifts an
entire passage. There are interior voices in his music,
half suppressed, yet making themselves heard now and
then above the principal melody. He loves “anticipations”—advancing
a single note or a few notes of the
harmony and then filling in the sustained tone or tones
with what was at first lacking. These characteristics
are so marked that it is as easy to recognize Schumann
as it is to distinguish Chopin in the first few bars of a
work by either. Each is <i>sui generis</i>, each has his own
hallmark, and it is a great thing in music, as in other
arts, to have one’s product so personal that there can
be no mistaking whose it is.</p>
<p>Schumann made valuable contributions to so-called
program music. His pieces, besides intrinsic musical
worth, have a distinct meaning, usually indicated by the
titles he gives them. And these titles themselves often
are suggested by the works of authors whom he admired,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_137' name='page_137'></SPAN>137</span>
or hark back to certain fanciful figures like
harlequins and columbines. His second work for the
pianoforte, “The Papillons,” derived its inspiration
from the poet, Jean Paul, who was at that time an
object of his intense worship. But whoever expects
to find butterflies fluttering through these Schumann
pieces will be mistaken. They are rather symbols of
thoughts still in the chrysalis state and waiting, like
butterflies, to cast off the shell and gain air and freedom.
This symbolism must be borne in mind in listening
to “The Papillons.”</p>
<p>Schumann himself said, in a general way, regarding
his programmatic intentions in this and other works,
that the titles given to his music should be taken very
much like the titles of poems, and that, as in the case
of poems, the music in itself should be beautiful, irrespective
of title or printed explanation. This is true of
all program music that has survived. It will be found
beautiful in itself; but it also is easy to discover that the
titles and explanations which are calculated to place
the hearer in certain receptive moods vastly add to his
enjoyment.</p>
<h4>“Carnaval” and “Kreisleriana.”</h4>
<p>I am always glad when a pianist elects to place the
Schumann “Carnaval” on his program, because it is so
characteristic of the composer’s method of work and of
his writing short pieces <i>en suite</i>, giving a separate name
to each of his diversions yet uniting them into one
composition by means of a comprehensive title. The
complete title to this work is “Carnaval Sc�nes
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_138' name='page_138'></SPAN>138</span>
Mignonnes sur Quatre Notes pour Piano, Op. 9.” The
four notes are A S C H, and in explanation it should
be said that in German S (es) is E flat, and H the
B of our musical scale. Asch was the birthplace of
Ernestine von Fricken, one of Schumann’s early loves.
Three of the divisions of the “Carnaval” are entitled
Florestan, Eusebius, and March of the Davidsb�ndler.
Schumann had founded the “Neue Zeitschrift f�r
Musik,” and he contributed to it under the noms-de-plume
of Florestan, Eusebius and Raro; while his
associates were denominated the Davidsb�ndler, it being
their mission to combat and put to flight the old
fogies of music, as David had the Philistines. Schumann
himself is the looker-on at this carnival, a
thinker wandering through the gay whirl, drawing his
own conclusions, and noting down in music the varied
figures as they pass, and his reflections on them. We
meet Chopin and Paganini, each neatly characterized;
Chiarina (the Italian diminutive of Clara) and Estrella
(none other than Ernestine herself); also Harlequin,
Pantalon, and Columbine. The Davidsb�ndler
march in to the strains of the German folk-song,</p>
<table summary=''><tr><td>
<p class='cg'>“Grandfather wedded my grandmother dear,<br/>
So grandfather then was a bridegroom, I fear,”</p>
</td></tr></table>
<p>and the whole ends in a merry uproar. He wrote another
carnival suite, Opus 26, the “Faschingschwank
aus Wien,” in which he introduced a suggestion of
the “Marseillaise,” which was at that time forbidden
to be played in Vienna.</p>
<p>The title of another work which ranks among his
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_139' name='page_139'></SPAN>139</span>
finest productions, the “Kreisleriana,” also requires explanation.
This he derived from a book by E. T. A.
Hoffmann, who sometimes is spoken of as the German
Poe, although he lacks the exquisite art of the American
author—in fact, is a Poe bound up in much heavy
German philosophy and turgid introspection. The
<i>Kreisler</i> of Hoffmann’s book is an exuberant sentimentalist,
and is said to have had his prototype in Kapellmeister
Ludwig B�hner, who, after a brilliant early
career, had become addicted to drink and was reduced
to maudlin memories of his former triumphs. In
Hoffmann’s book there is a contrast drawn between
this pathetic character, whose ideals have become
shadows which he vainly chases, and the prosaic views
of life as set forth by another character <i>Kater Murr</i>
(literally <i>Tomcat Purr</i>). But these “Kreisleriana,” of
which Bie says “the joys and sorrows expressed in
these pieces were never put into form with more sovereign
power,” should be entitled “Schumanniana,” for
although the title is derived from Hoffmann, the content
is Schumann.</p>
<h4>Thoughts of His Clara.</h4>
<p>Concerning the work as a whole he wrote to Clara
while in the throes of composition: “This music now
in me, and always such beautiful melodies! Think of
it, since my last letter to you I have another entire book
of new things ready. I intend to call them ‘Kreisleriana,’
and in them you and a thought of you play
the chief r�le, and I shall dedicate them to you. Yes,
they belong to you as to no one else, and how sweetly
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_140' name='page_140'></SPAN>140</span>
you will smile when you find yourself in them! My music
seems to me so wonderfully interwoven, in spite of
all its simplicity, and speaking right from the heart. It
has that effect upon all for whom I play these things,
as I now do gladly and often.” If Clara and a thought
of Clara play the chief r�le, what becomes of <i>Kreisler</i>
and <i>Kater Murr</i>? Surely “Kreisleriana” are Schumanniana.</p>
<p>Full of varied characteristics are the “Fantasie
Pieces.” Among these is the familiar “Warum,” which
one has but to hear to recognize at once that it is no
ordinary Why, but a question upon the answer to which
depends the happiness of a lifetime; “At Evening”
(<i>Abends</i>), with its sense of perfect peace; the buoyant
“Soaring” (<i>Aufschwung</i>); “Whims” (<i>Grillen</i>);
“Night Scene,” an echo of the legend of Hero and
Leander; the fable, “Dream-Whirls” (<i>Traumeswirren</i>)
and the “End of the Song,” with its mingling of
humor and sadness. These “Fantasie Pieces” and the
aptly named “Novelettes” seem destined always to retain
their popularity. And then there are the “Scenes
from Childhood,” to which belongs the <SPAN name='TC_2'></SPAN><ins class="trchange" title="Was 'Tra�merei'">“Tr�umerei”</ins>;
the “Forest Scenes,” the “Sonatas;” the heroic technical
studies, based on the Paganini “Capriccios,” and
the “�tudes Symphoniques,” and the “Fantasie,” above
the first movement of which he placed these lines from
Schlegel:</p>
<table summary=''><tr><td>
<p class='cg'>“Through every tone there passes,<br/>
To him who deigns to list,<br/>
In varied earthly dreaming,<br/>
<span class='indent2'> </span>A tone of gentleness.”</p>
</td></tr></table>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_141' name='page_141'></SPAN>141</span></div>
<p>Clara was the “tone,” as he told her. It was largely
through Madame Schumann’s public playing of her
husband’s works that they won their way. Even so,
owing to their lack of brilliancy and their introspection,
they were long in coming to their own. But the best
of them, including, of course, the admirable “A Minor
Concerto,” long will retain their hold on the modern
pianist’s repertoire. William Mason went to Leipzig
in 1849. “Only a few years before I arrived at Leipzig,”
he says in his “Memories,” “Schumann’s genius
was so little appreciated that when he entered the store
of Breitkopf & H�rtel with a new manuscript under
his arm, the clerks would nudge one another and laugh.
One of them told me that they regarded him as a
crank and a failure because his pieces remained on
the shelf and were in the way. * * * Shortly
after my return from Germany (to New York) I went
to Breusing’s, then one of the principal music stores
in the city,—the Schirmers are his successors,—and
asking for certain compositions by Schumann, I was
informed that they had his music in stock, but as
there was no demand for it, it was packed away in a
bundle, and kept in the basement.” What a contrast
now!</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<div class='chsp'>
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_142' name='page_142'></SPAN>142</span>
<SPAN name='VII_LISZT_THE_GIANT_AMONG_VIRTUOSOS' id='VII_LISZT_THE_GIANT_AMONG_VIRTUOSOS'></SPAN>
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