Chapter XIII: Part 13

Before this, however, Schumann had to experience a sad disappointment. A gradually increasing lameness of the middle finger of the right hand (a consequence of his mechanical contrivances) spoiled every hope of his becoming a virtuoso. In spite of this new obstacle he devoted himself only the more to composition, and feeling sadly the lack of the necessary theoretical instruction, applied to Dorn, conductor of the opera, for lessons. During the winter 1832-33 he stayed with his family in Zwickau, where, in a concert given by Clara Wieck, he conducted the first movement of an unpublished symphony in G minor.

Schumann was fortunate in being so well situated pecuniarily that he was not obliged to earn his living during the years of the development of his genius. After his return to Leipsic he studied in private, surrounding himself with a few talented friends. Not content with their own mutual instruction in the spirit and beauty of old masterworks, and the enthusiastic appreciation of the productions of younger composers; firmly believing in the possibility of a new and brilliant epoch of musical art, these young men desired to do all in their power to realize their hopes. In pursuance of this idea they started a magazine, "Die neue Zeitschrift für Musik," which for many years was destined to exercise a wide influence in Germany. Its principal mission was to plead for a more poetic conception of music, and this cause was presented in an entirely new poetic language. Poetry and prose, reality and fiction were combined in a very ingenious manner. A society of Davidites was founded, more in fiction than reality, not confined to a circle of enthusiasts, but comprising all the old masters as well as those then living, Mozart and Bach as well as Berlioz, Chopin and Mendelssohn. All writers of meaningless trivialities or dry, unpoetic formalities were attacked as "Philistines." In a similar way Schumann combined fiction and reality in this literary occupation by substituting for his own individuality three different characters, to personify the different sides of his nature, Florestan representing all that was passionate, manly, energetic; Eusebius embracing all that was sweet, tender or imaginative; with the more objective, experienced and reconciling figure of old Raro, acting as moderator of both. Some years before this paper was started, Schumann had made his literary debut by contributions to other magazines, his first work, when he was twenty-one years old, being that glorious article on Chopin's opus 2, giving a most poetic record of the feeling which the music of the rising genius had awakened within him. His own paper made its first appearance in April, 1834, and Schumann, who soon became its sole editor and proprietor, kept this position until 1844, when he took up his residence in Dresden. That small portion of his time which was unoccupied with journalistic work, was devoted to composing, the fruits being a number of piano works of striking originality and of a great variety of moods and forms.

Although Schumann's musical and literary occupations laid strong claim to his time and attention, yet much of his interest was absorbed by affairs of a private nature. For years he had watched closely the development of Clara Wieck; but warm as his feelings were for her, there was another young woman who for a while took possession of his heart, Ernestine von Fricken, daughter of a Bohemian baron from Asch, a name made famous through Schumann's "Carnival scenes," which are mostly based on the four notes corresponding with the letters of that town (also the only musical letters in his own name). This engagement was, however, broken in 1835, and the following years, so rich in musical and literary productions, were also marked by a continuous struggle for that wonderful artist, Clara Wieck, whose name was to become inseparably united with his own. Not only from his letters, but also from many compositions, we learn the extent of Schumann's sufferings from Wieck's obstinate refusal to give his daughter to one who had not yet gained a safe position and who was so far known more as a critic than as a composer. Schumann tried everything to improve his position, publishing his paper for a while in Vienna but without finding the desired success, and, after his return to Leipsic, procuring from the university of Jena the honorary degree of doctor of philosophy, on the ground of his writings and efforts in the interest of art. His stay in Vienna was not without influence on his future development as a composer, and it had, besides this, the great result of bringing to light some of Schubert's finest compositions, especially the symphony in C, which Schumann not only sent at once to Mendelssohn for its first glorious performance, but presented to the world in all its beauty through a wonderful article published in his magazine. His doctor diploma, dated Feb. 24, 1840, speaks in the highest terms of his merits as a composer and critic.

From an engraving after a daguerreotype.]

With all his efforts and his growing popularity, Schumann could not gain favor in the eyes of father Wieck; only after a long term of legal proceedings were the happy pair united in marriage, their wedding being celebrated in a church near Leipsic in Sept., 1840. It was a union of greatest importance not only to themselves but to music. Both were true companions in an ideal struggle, true Davidites and priests of art, Clara Schumann not only continuing her career as a splendid interpreter of the classics of Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Chopin and Schumann, but at the same time tenderly watching over her husband's health and temper, which was marked by a growing irritability. Honor though it was to be Robert Schumann's wife, it required a great character and supreme devotion. Looking at his happy family life, reading his expressions of gratitude, esteem and love for his wife; hearing those who have seen him play with his children, once more we say that it is not only the artist, but the man Schumann for whom we feel a deep sympathy and esteem. Yet his disposition was not wholly free from features of a less agreeable nature. His sensitiveness and taciturnity often made him appear in an unsympathetic light, or offend those who meant well with him. But this was only a sign of the deep-rooted disease, which developed so steadily and which so early wrecked his mind and body.

The culmination of Schumann's happiness being attained, his creative powers increased wonderfully. Now he felt compelled to confide the music of his soul to the human voice and suddenly appeared as a great master in a new field, by producing a wealth of songs, perfectly original in style, form and spirit. Love, of course, plays a prominent but not exclusive part in them. Yet his genius was seeking for still higher fields and larger forms. The following year was devoted to the composition of great orchestral works, three symphonies (two of which were published much later in different shape) and the first movement of the pianoforte concerto. In this higher sphere Schumann again proved himself a master, the first symphony in B-flat, given most successfully under Mendelssohn's direction, showing his genius at once in the most brilliant light. This fever for composing did not in the least abate in 1842, the year devoted to chamber music, when he wrote the three string quartets, the quintet and quartet for pianoforte and strings, which were unsurpassed by any later efforts. Far from being exhausted, in 1843 he completed besides the famous variations for two pianofortes, the great cantata "Paradise and the Peri." It was received most enthusiastically, and its success stimulated him to write a similar work of still higher order, the musical setting of the most difficult and mysterious scenes from the second part of Goethe's "Faust." Meanwhile he had continued the work for his musical journal, accompanied his wife to concerts in Hamburg and Russia, where he was highly honored as a composer, and had also filled a position as professor for pianoforte and composition at the new Conservatory opened in April, 1843, with Mendelssohn as director. Of this latter work of Schumann little has become known, and from his uncommunicative nature one has inferred that he lacked the talent of a true teacher. In 1844 he severed his connection with the Conservatory and with his journal also, and took up his residence in Dresden. Overwork and the exerting musical life in Leipsic had greatly increased his nervousness and he expected a speedy recovery in the royal capital, with its lovely surroundings and quiet life. However it took years to fully restore him. Yet in these very years Schumann wrote his glorious symphony in C, and devoted much time to strict contrapuntal studies, composing several works in this style. He finally took a more active part in Dresden's social life, keeping a friendly intercourse with other musicians, poets and artists, and a sincere interest in the opera, then directed by young Wagner. At that time the reform of the musical drama was in Dresden the centre of all musical interests, and Schumann felt a deep desire to solve the great problem in his own way.

We shall speak below more extensively about his only opera "Genoveva." Although it was completed in Dresden, in 1848, it had its first performance in the summer of 1850, in Leipsic, under his own direction. It was repeated there a few times, but was undeniably a great disappointment in spite of all its musical beauties. Schumann was deeply affected, disagreeing entirely with the critics as to the dramatic character of his work. Much more successful were the first performances of his music to "Faust," presented at the centenary of Goethe's birthday in Dresden, Leipsic and Weimar. Several years later Schumann added more numbers, but the entire work was given in its present shape only after his death.

In the winter of 1846-47, Robert and Clara Schumann made a trip to Vienna, where the latter played her husband's concerto (completed in 1845), and he conducted his first symphony. The Viennese admired her playing but showed far less appreciation for his music than the North Germans or even the Russians. In 1847, Schumann succeeded Hiller as director of the Dresden "Liedertafel," and in 1848 he started a mixed chorus, which afforded him more genuine pleasure than the male chorus. With them he gave the Faust music, and "Paradise and the Peri," studied Beethoven's great Mass in D, and began to believe in his abilities as a conductor to such a degree, that when, in 1849, it was rumored that Rietz, Mendelssohn's successor in Leipsic, was going to Berlin, Schumann eagerly applied for the high position. Rietz, however, remained. During these last years in Dresden, Schumann had finished a large number of chamber works, songs, duets, male, female and mixed choruses with or without accompaniment, piano pieces, and the music to Byron's "Manfred."

Modelled by the sculptor Dondorf.]

In 1850, Hiller again recommended Schumann to become his successor as director of the orchestral and choral concerts in Düsseldorf, and a call being extended, it was readily accepted by the composer. For such a work he had neither the natural gifts nor the necessary preparation, his conducting being hesitating, his way of rehearsing not in the least instructive. Fluent as was his style in writing, he lacked the gift of easily imparting his ideas. However, he was received with high honors and for three seasons performed his new duties, also several times taking part in the great vocal festivals. All his works were listened to with delight; nevertheless it constantly became more evident that he was unfit for the position, and in 1853 his engagement was not renewed, the decision affecting him deeply. A visit to Leipsic made by the artists in 1852 for the performance of several novelties, was also rather disappointing, while the triumphant tour through Holland, at the end of 1853, forms the last sunny period of Schumann's life.

In these years he had composed feverishly, some of the results being such great and famous productions as the Rhenish symphony, the cantata, "the Pilgrimage of the Rose," several overtures, ballads for soli, chorus and orchestra, a mass, a requiem, several chamber works, songs, melodramas and pianoforte pieces. He also planned writing another opera on Schiller's "Bride of Messina" or Gœthe's "Hermann and Dorothea," or a great popular oratorio on "Luther," but was forced to abandon the scheme. He was happiest amongst his children and was as talkative with them as reticent with others. Yet his old interest in new talents remained unabated and the way in which he encouraged young musicians, such as Reinecke, Meinardus, Dietrich, Joachim and especially Brahms, shows him in a most amiable light. But all this time that mysterious influence which had so early affected his mind, was daily gaining in strength. He was troubled so much by nervousness, a feeling of permanent anxiety, and even by hallucinations, that he became desirous of a medical treatment in a hospital. One night he rushed from his bed to write down a theme just sent to him by the spirits of Schubert and Mendelssohn. Nor was he free from superstitions, for instance passionately taking part in the practice of table moving. On February 22, 1854, soon after dinner, without any warning he left his house and the society of a few friends, to seek his final rest in the floods of the Rhine. Saved by sailors, he recovered full possession of his faculties only for a few days, in which he wrote one variation on the theme of that strange night. During the two last years of his life he was confined in a private hospital near Bonn. There a few friends such as Joachim and young Brahms were admitted to see the beloved master, so sadly afflicted both physically and mentally. His darkened mind became clear only at rare intervals, when he would sit at the piano, once more seeking a musical expression for the strange world of thoughts within him. But soon all visits from friends were forbidden, and the wife of the great composer saw him only to close his eyes and bid him a last farewell. He died July 2, 1856, only forty-six years old. In Bonn, where he is buried, a beautiful monument by Donndorf is erected in his memory.

In appearance Schumann was rather tall and stately, calm and slow in his movements, the face, with deep, melancholy eyes and rich dark hair, being quite expressive, but seldom betraying the emotions of his soul, the wealth and depth of his imagination or the exquisite wit and humor, so often encountered in his works. Certain odd peculiarities of his personal and artistic character, which became more apparent when his health began to fail, can not impair the general impression of his true nature as manifested in the achievements of his happier days. If we remember how late Schumann entered upon a musical career, how late he enjoyed a thorough theoretical instruction, how much he has also done in the field of literature, how early his health began to be impaired, and at what an early age he was called away, we are astonished at the mass of his works, so many of them of the widest scope and importance, which place his name among the noblest and greatest masters.

Fac-simile musical manuscript of the opening of Schumann's Quintette Op. 44. The original is in the possession of J. Brahms.]

In a certain sense Schumann's works may be regarded as a musical commentary on his life. This is particularly true of his earlier pianoforte compositions. Being neither the result of theoretical studies nor the imitation of favorite masters, they were of a surprising originality, melodically, rhythmically and harmonically, and revealed a new spirit in a new form in spite of all relationship to Schubert's small character pieces, Beethoven's last sonatas or Bach's polyphonic style. They were not only new, but bold and full of a higher significance. Schumann was never at a loss for ideas, but, being familiar with every style of pianoforte playing from Bach's to Moscheles' and Chopin's, and aiming at the career of a virtuoso, he wrote from the beginning in a very difficult style, rich in wonderful new effects and combinations. Sometimes we find a "pearl of great price" hidden beneath a wealth of ornament of unusual beauty, novelty and poetic significance. So peculiar indeed is the style of these pianoforte works, that special technical study is required in order to do them justice.

Like all our great composers, Schumann frequently makes use of variations, of course not in Henri Herz's manner, but in Beethoven's, creating out of one original idea a series of characteristic pieces, strongly contrasted in form and spirit. In Heidelberg, long before his studies with Dorn, he wrote those on A-b-e-gg, dedicated to a countess of this name, who, however, was in reality nothing but a modest, untitled young lady, with whom he had become acquainted at a ball. The Impromptu (Op. 5), on a theme of Clara Wieck, belongs to this class also. But of much greater importance are the two works, in which he best showed the peculiar character of his pianoforte virtuosity, the Symphonic Studies (Op. 13) and the Andante with variations for two pianofortes (Op. 46). The extremely interesting treatment in these works is very free, but always ingenious, and the technical and intellectual difficulties are very great.

Rarely one meets with a long cantilena, in Schumann's earlier works, the material generally having a short, somewhat fragmentary character, often consisting of but a few notes, though treated with a wealth of rhythmical or harmonical combinations. There is also a great variety of moods, and the contrasts are not only very distinct, but often unexpected and sudden. As a dreamer full of sweetest or saddest thoughts he is not less touching than as a musical knight of the most chivalrous spirit or as a humorist such as Beethoven. Nowhere can one find a finer exhibition of that peculiar German humor which "laughs through tears," than in Schumann's charming "Humoreske" (Op. 20). The arrangements of the Paganini caprices and studies have a more pedagogic purpose, while the great Toccata (Op. 7) and the Allegro (Op. 8) may be called Schumann's noblest contributions to the literature of bravoura-pieces. More characteristic of his individuality, however, are those works with which his name as a musical poet will always remain especially connected--"Papillons," "Carnival," "Davidsbündlertänze," "Phantasiestücke," "Scenes from Childhood," "Kreisleriana" and "Noveletten." Distinct pictures of his poetical imagination form their object, yet it is well to remember the composer's emphatic declaration, that the music originated in his mind and was written down before he even thought of the title, which he afterward gave the composition. Yet so wonderfully appropriate are many of these titles, that it is often impossible not to perceive their meaning in the music. What an inexhaustible wealth of musical ideas is hidden in all these productions, how many new rhythmical combinations, how many "sweetest discords"! Who has ever understood how to show so much depth of feeling and originality of thought, such a rich imagination within such narrow limits as has Schumann, particularly in the "Papillons" and "Carnival"! One feels that much of his own life's experience, much of the romance of his heart is embodied in this music. Thus the "Davidsbündlertänze" are by no means "dances," but the Davidites' knightly fights against the Philistines, nor are the "Kreisleriana" a portrayal of the eccentric Capellmeister in E. T. A. Hoffmann's tale, but the expression of Schumann's own enthusiastic, romantic, many-sided nature and of the ever-varying moods of his soul. In the Novelettes he tells us, in a most pleasing and spirited language, the story of his struggle for Clara's heart. The Phantasiestücke contain veritable gems among modern pianoforte music, such as "Evenings," "Why," "Traumeswirren" and "Aufschwung." The utmost delicacy of sentiment and fineness of musical expression are found in the "Scenes from Childhood," which are not meant as compositions for children, but as musical genre pictures from the children's life. Other fine pieces such as "Arabeske," "Blumenstück," "Nachtstücke," may be only mentioned, though each deserves a detailed analysis.

In three Sonatas Schumann has attempted to force the wealth of his imagination into an old classic form, but as he had not then perfected himself in the latter, and besides wrote the single movements at wide intervals, he could hardly be expected to make a complete success. The material is almost crowded, the development often lacks coherence, the different portions are not of equal value; and yet, considering these productions as free music, we recognize again the composer's vast powers of invention and combination, his passionate energy, delicacy of sentiment and brilliancy of style. Of these sonatas, the one in G minor is generally praised as the best. On a higher plane we place the great fantasia in C, Op. 17, dedicated to Liszt. Here Schumann's imagination was free from strict formal fetters; the four movements keep one's interest evenly and keenly alive, and, apparently written in hours of inspiration, they go directly from heart to heart. The earnest, noble character and lofty spirit of this work remind us indeed of Beethoven, to whose monument Schumann had first intended to contribute it as an "obolus." Its difficulties are such, that only eminent players are able to master them and make the meaning of the music clear.

Among Schumann's later pianoforte compositions the following are best known: the lively, fanciful "Faschingsschwank," composed in Vienna during the carnival; three romances, of which the one in F-sharp is particularly famous; some fugues and other pieces in strict contrapuntal style; the "Scenes from the Woods" (among which is the odd "Bird as Prophet"); "Bunte Blätter"; "Phantasiestücke"; "20 Album Leaves" (including the popular cradle song); and "Gesänge der Frühe"; "Three little Sonatas," dedicated to his daughters, and the well known "Album for the Young," with its forty-three charming pieces, are certainly among the most valuable works ever written for children.

Of the compositions for four hands none deserves more sympathy than the charming "Pictures from the Orient," inspired by Rückert's "Makamen des Hariri," certainly in no way inferior to the famous "Evening Song" from the twelve pieces Op. 85, while the elaborate "Ball Scenes" and the easier "Children's Ball" were written at a later period.

The pianoforte concerto in A minor ranks directly after Beethoven's. It has a truly symphonic character, especially in the first and last movements, the orchestra accompaniment being not less important than the brilliant solo part, while the middle movement, Intermezzo, seems even like a lovely solo for the violoncello with piano accompaniment. Two more concert pieces for pianoforte with orchestra are an Allegro appassionato (Op. 92) and a Concert Allegro with Introduction (Op. 134), the latter dedicated to Joh. Brahms.

When, in 1840, Schumann reached the sunshine of domestic happiness, he was compelled to express his joy in singing, not only in vocal compositions, but also in his instrumental pieces, which now began to assume a more sustained melodic breadth. He played no instrument besides the pianoforte, and for this reason has often been accused of not fully understanding the true nature of string or wood instruments. We admit that occasionally a desired effect is not well produced, but a thousand instances prove that as a general statement such an accusation is entirely false. There are portions where the composer shows a lack of transparency, but a great many more are very brilliant and most finely balanced. His use of the strings is certainly effective enough in his chamber works, though the finest results are obtained in their combination with the pianoforte.

The three string quartets dedicated to Mendelssohn show the latter's great influence on Schumann's progress in larger forms. Later the composer changed many details, and now we class them among the most valuable productions of the kind since Beethoven's death, the beauty of the ideas and their fascinating treatment increasing our admiration with each hearing. Schumann likes to place the Scherzo before the slow movement and to substitute for the Trio an Intermezzo in two-four time. Greater than these quartets, however, are the famous quintet and quartet in E-flat for pianoforte and strings. The former especially has been called the greatest chamber work since Beethoven, and it has not yet been thrust from this position of honor. How one would have liked to witness the first performance of this splendid work with Clara Schumann, to whom it is dedicated, at the piano! Two very short themes form the basis of the first movement, which has a bright, energetic character and received an extremely rich harmonic treatment with a brilliant ornamental figure work. Then follows a funeral march of a peculiar character, having a choral-like episode in the major key, and a passionate agitato in F minor. The highly spirited Scherzo has again two trios, one sweet and melodious, and the other a labyrinth of mysterious sounds and thoughts. The same harmonic wealth and energetic spirit we find again in the Finale, in which through a combination of the principal theme with the first one in the opening moment, a grand climax is reached, closing a work which, with all its romantic spirit and modern rhythm and harmony, retains the character of a perfectly classic masterpiece. The pianoforte quartet deserves as much praise, one of its most conspicuous features being the close relation which Schumann bears to Bach, while retaining his own strikingly modern poetical spirit.

From a lithograph from life, by Edward Kaiser, in 1847.]

The trios for piano, violin and violoncello in D minor and F are of a high order too, full of ingenious ideas, one being especially interesting by its passionate, poetic spirit, the other through a greater perfection in form; but the originality and artistic perfection which characterize them do not appear in the G minor trio [Op. 110]. Of a lighter character, yet delightful on every page, are the "Phantasiestücke" for violin, 'cello and piano, and the "Märchenerzählungen" for piano, clarinet and viola.

The two passionate, melancholy Violin Sonatas of his later years are, in spite of their great musical worth, perhaps more gratifying for players than for a concert audience, while many an enjoyable page may be found among the different compositions for clarinet, horn, viola, or violoncello and pianoforte.

Schumann's organ compositions are few in number, the principal ones being the six fugues on B-A-C-H, which differ considerably in value and character.

Besides the pianoforte concerto already mentioned, Schumann has composed one for violoncello in A minor, demanding a player of great musical intelligence: one for four horns, a revival of the old concerto grosso, and a fantasia for violin with orchestral accompaniment dedicated to Joachim, who owns also the manuscript of a whole violin concerto. All these works belong to Schumann's last period, showing traces of exhaustion, but still his noble, always purely artistic purposes.

In order to picture Schumann's orchestral works with any degree of justice, we should be gifted with his own wonderful powers of description, thus producing upon our readers an impression similar to that produced by the musical work upon a sympathetic listener. What a splendid protest are they against the faint-hearted belief, that with Beethoven's "Ninth" the symphony as such had not only reached its supreme development, but died. Surely it required a genius, a great personality, a thorough master of the symphonic art to write in this field something worthy of the great predecessors, and yet original. But such a personality was Schumann, and his symphonies will forever belong to the golden treasure of instrumental music. Far from being imitations in any respect, they hold an independent position of their own and will live as long as their composer's name. Already the first one in B-flat appears at once as a masterpiece of lasting value. In this he might be called a younger brother of Beethoven, a lad with youthful thoughts and hopes and longings, with rosy cheeks and brilliant eyes, full of sweetest tenderness and mirth, but glowing with youth, manliness and vigor. His kinship with Schubert is often apparent too, although he always shows his own peculiar face. In regard to the form, he introduces many new features.

This is particularly noticeable in his treatment of the second theme in the first and last movements, in the use of two trios in the Scherzo, and in the melodious Larghetto, which greatly resembles his Phantasiestücke for piano. Throughout, this music is extremely inspiriting; in spite of an occasional lack of clearness in the instrumentation it is powerful and brilliant or of exquisite delicacy, and its spirit full of love, happiness and spring.

The second symphony in D minor, later revised and published as No. 4, is decidedly more passionate and concentrated, some of the four movements being closely connected, besides having partly a common thematic material. New also is the slow impressive introduction of the finale and the free, fantasia-like treatment of the second part of the opening movement. In the place of a broad adagio a lovely romance precedes the Scherzo, which retains its usual shape, and in all four movements the principal key of D is dominant.

Schumann's relationship to Beethoven seems however nowhere more conspicuous than in the great symphony in C. It has an eminently virile, strong and dithyrambic character. The solemn introduction of the first movement, the conciseness of its first part, the wide scope of the working-out portion, even the character of the themes, remind us at once of Beethoven's spirit. An extensive, fanciful scherzo with two different trios in two-four time precedes the beautiful Adagio, which, with its intense feeling, sweet sadness and almost transcendental loftiness, comes perhaps nearer to Beethoven than anything else in modern symphonic literature. An exultant finale crowns this truly monumental work. And let us not forget that it was written in a gloomy period of mental and physical distress. The deep study of Bach at that time left many traces in the masterly contrapuntal work.

A new world is revealed in the so-called Rhenish Symphony in E-flat. There Schumann begins at once with the Allegro, the first subject of the movement bearing a vigorous character with effective syncopations and clad in all the splendor of the full orchestra, the second being a charming melody in G minor. Omitting the usual repetition of the first part, he extends the working-out portion by new and ingenious combinations of the two subjects. Here again we are often reminded of Beethoven. After the brilliant Coda a lovely intermezzo follows with a sweet, almost popular melody for the 'celli, alternating with a lively staccato figure of the string and wood instruments and a romantic song for two horns, the whole suggesting perhaps a pleasant trip on the Rhine at sunset. And is there anything more delicate and touching in any modern symphony than the Andante in A-flat, where every instrument seems to have a soul and to sing directly into our inmost heart, now plaintive and sad, now consoling with an indescribable delicacy of feeling. Still the composer does not hasten to the finale, but puts in another slow movement in E-flat minor in the character of a solemn ceremony (suggested by the installation of the archbishop in Cologne), highly effective by its spirit, and vastly interesting by its masterly counterpoint and rich instrumentation. It touches us like liberty regained from such mysteries when the finale opens with its brilliant, vigorous theme, and the whole glorious movement fills our hearts with its own enthusiastic spirit. Yet this great work was written when Schumann's powers began to decay, and when he was occupied with many less successful efforts in other musical fields.

The fifth symphonic work, written directly after the first symphony, but revised and published later under the title "Overture, Scherzo and Finale," has also become a favorite because of its charming, inspiriting character, especially prominent in the scherzo, which is an excellent revival of the old gigue form.

An imaginary and fantastic character introduced in various novels and sketches by E. T. A. Hoffman, impersonating a true musician devoted to the highest ideals in conflict with the banale and frivolous world and ending in insanity. This sketch is by Hoffman himself, showing Kreisler amusing himself blowing soap-bubbles, seeming to say: "What is the world after all, but a soap-bubble?"

The figure of Kreisler and his various moods depicted in Hoffman's novels induced Schumann to write his Op. 16 Kreisleriana, dedicated to F. Chopin.

A prototype of Schumann's own life and sad end.]

Notwithstanding Schumann's admiration for Berlioz, his firm belief in the close relation between poetry and music, and his programmatic tendencies in earlier pianoforte works, it is very significant that he has in all his orchestral writing closely followed the path of his great predecessors. Hereby he gave great encouragement to still cling to the classic tradition, and to believe in the possibility of a further development of the symphonic form.

Even the master's overtures may be regarded in this light of pure music, although they refer to certain distinct objects. They all were first intended as preludes for some drama or festival occasion, such as the one on the Rhine-wine song, in which after a long orchestral movement a tenor solo leads over to the popular chorus finale. The overtures to his dramatic works "Genoveva" and "Manfred" rank highest, and will be dwelt upon later; the others refer to Shakespeare's "Julius Cæsar," scenes of Gœthe's "Faust," Gœthe's "Hermann and Dorothea," and Schiller's "Bride of Messina"; the last named being particularly worthy of a deep interest and sympathy.

Omitting the many songs for children (some of which have a peculiar charm), Schumann has composed over two hundred works in this smallest form of vocal music, the majority of which were written in the happy year of his marriage. They made Schumann at once a peer of Franz Schubert, and placed him in the front rank of German song composers as the representative of an entirely new style, which has been quite successfully adopted by younger masters. His poetic nature enabled him, so to speak, to repeat the whole process of the poet in the conception and shaping of his work, but as a musician and in the richer and more delicate language of music, and thus to more clearly express the finest thoughts and feelings of the poem. The words are treated very melodiously, but with a fine sense for correct accentuation. Although the voice retains the melodic expression of the sentiment, the accompaniment, far from being a conventional support, is raised to such importance that it is absolutely essential to the vocal strain. Thus much that the poet could only suggest, found a wonderfully distinct musical expression, partly in fine preludes, interludes and postludes, and partly in the details of the strict accompaniment. Here again, one is surprised at the abundance of new harmonic and rhythmic combinations. These songs demand the most intimate harmony between singer and player and most of them lose greatly by a translation in any other language, as the music is often closely connected, not only with the thought and sentiment, but with the special poetic diction of the German text. Schumann has sometimes been accused of lacking a thorough comprehension of the human voice; in a certain sense this may be true, on the other hand one must admit that there are few public singers who are capable of giving a just rendering of his finest songs, many of which are besides hardly appropriate for the concert hall.

The master's high culture guided him in the selection of poems, and the great representatives of German lyric poetry, Heine, Rückert, Eichendorff, Chamisso, and Kerner, owe a great deal of their popularity to Schumann, as so many of their finest poems have become inseparably connected with his music. In his several cycles of songs (Heine's and Eichendorff's "Liederkreis," Heine's "Dichterliebe," Rückert's "Liebesfrühling," to which Clara Schumann has contributed some numbers, and Chamisso's "Frauen-Liebe und Leben"), the single numbers are not connected, but their coherence is often indicated by some other way. Intensity and purity of feeling, truth of expression for situations or moods of every kind, and a rare harmony between the poetic and musical senses secure to many of these songs the highest position in this kind of literature. Some have a simple, almost popular character (particularly those by Burns), others are very elaborate. In ballads ("Belsazar," "Soldier's Bride," "Two Grenadiers," "Die Rothe Hanne," "Der arme Peter," etc.), Schumann has a peculiar style of his own, differing much from that of the great master of German ballad music, Loewe, less popular, yet in many ways not less effective. Less happy perhaps are his later settings of the songs from Gœthe's "Wilhelm Meister" and of poems of Elise Kullmann, Queen Mary Stuart and others.

Much could be said of the many delightful vocal duets, varying so much in style and spirit, and interesting us so much both in the vocal and piano parts. Yet we can only mention them here, as well as the several important and larger works for solo voices and piano in a cyclic form, such as the "Minnespiel" from Rückert's "Liebesfrühling," the "Spanische Liederspiel" and "Spanische Liebeslieder," all of which should be favorite numbers for vocal chamber concerts.

Next in our review stand the part songs for mixed, female or male voices. Some of them deserve a place beside Mendelssohn's little masterpieces, others are almost forgotten or, like the great motet for double male chorus and organ, or the canons on Rückert's "Ritornelle," are beyond the sphere of male chorus societies. Few have won a greater popularity than the "Gipsy Life" with piano, triangle and tambourine. Of greater importance, however, are several works with orchestra, undeservedly neglected, Rückert's "Advent" and "New Year Songs," Hebbel's gloomy "Nachtlied," and especially the touching "Requiem for Mignon" from Gœthe's "Wilhelm Meister." Less distinction is attributed to the four great ballads for chorus, soli and orchestra, Uhland's "Glück von Edenhall," "des Sänger's Fluch," "der Königssohn," and Geibel's "Vom Pagen und der Königstochter." By having these ballads arranged in a more extended, dramatic form, Schumann impaired the work of the poet; moreover he succeeded only partially in his musical setting, weak portions predominating over the more effective and even fine passages, which are by no means wanting. The Requiem and the Mass, both for chorus and orchestra without solos, the latter acknowledged as decidedly superior, were composed in feverish haste, and give little proof of his ability to reveal his religious feelings by means of great choruses or to adapt his music to the Catholic service. In these late years he tried his powers in almost every field of composition, even applying the melodramatic form to poems, which are recited to a pianoforte accompaniment ("Schön Hedwig," "die Flüchtlinge," "der Haideknabe.")

From a photograph by Hanfstängl, Munich.]

There yet remain several great works which have helped to make Schumann's name immortal. In the poem of "Paradise and the Peri," forming a part of Thomas Moore's "Lalla Rookh," Schumann found a subject particularly suited to his individuality, a touching romantic fairy tale with rich Oriental scenery and pictures of strongly contrasted vivid colors. Schumann changed the poem in some places and made a few additions of his own, but did not in the least impair its beauty or coherency. The epic portions are attributed to different solo voices and sometimes even to the chorus. The orchestral accompaniment is very elaborate, demanding great care for an adequate performance. All these scenes in India, Africa and at the gates of Eden required a sensuous, yet refined instrumentation to portray them in their peculiar colors. Orchestra and the human voice were called upon to furnish the truest and most touching expression for the varied emotions of every number, which might be warlike and thrilling or tender and sweet, exuberant with joy or hopeless with despair, illustrating the charm of a blooming scenery or the gloom, suffering and death brought by the plague. The solos demand singers with beautiful, well-trained voices, and a thorough comprehension of all the musical and poetic beauties. A more brilliant and impressive soprano solo part than the Peri does not exist in all concert literature. There are also parts assigned to a second soprano, alto, tenor and two bass voices, the solos alternating with concerted numbers of extreme beauty. Of the chorus numbers the finales of parts one and three are on a large plan and have a jubilant and highly spirited character. Not less beautiful are the smaller numbers, each so wonderfully adapted to its particular situation and mood. Indeed one cannot speak too highly of all this music, and even one who does not sympathize with some monotonous portions in the third part, or an occasional deviation from correct declamation, will admit that this work is indeed the finest repository of the wealth, beauty and peculiarity of Robert Schumann's musical genius, in a field in which he has no superior and hardly a rival. It inaugurated indeed a new form of secular chorus music, more modern in spirit and freer in the whole arrangement than the oratorio proper, more dramatic than the cantata, and of greater refinement than the opera.

"The Pilgrimage of the Rose" cannot claim a similar high position. Arranged for Schumann by Horn after a poem of Pfarrius, it deals with a conventional story of a weakly, sentimental character, in spite of a few highly poetical incidents, and is unduly extended. Yet the music contains a most beautiful chorus for male voices with horns, and charming mixed choruses for female and mixed voices, their tones being either soft and mellow or as bright and spirited as anything written in much younger and happier years. The solos are, however, more monotonous, the famous duet of the miller and his wife being one of the few exceptions. It is also doubtful whether Schumann did right in arranging the original piano accompaniment for a whole orchestra.

The second immortal work, by which Schumann has enriched vocal concert literature, is his music to scenes from Gœthe's "Faust." Part I. consists, after the weak overture, of the scenes in the garden, the dome, and before the Mater dolorosa, from the first part of Gœthe's tragedy; the scene in the garden is distinguished by a peculiarly fine musical dialogue and orchestral accompaniment, that in the dome by the addition of an impressive Dies iræ. The more important scenes, however, divided in two parts, are from Gœthe's second play: "Ariel's song in the morning dawn," "Sunrise," "Faust's monologue," "Scene of the four grey women," "Faust's blinding, death and glorification." For this mystic poetry Schumann has found a sublime musical language, which revealed to thousands the beauty of Gœthe's verses, and the hidden meaning of his thoughts. The fantastic scene of the grey women, Faust's farewell song, the dialogue between Mephisto and his Lemures, digging Faust's grave, the latter's death followed by a wonderful postlude, are extremely impressive. Yet the climax is reached in the half-religious, allegorical third part, where saints and angels sing, amongst them Gretchen as "una poenitentium." Here are true gems of musical sublimity, comparable with nothing else in the works of Schumann or any other composer. The incorporeal world of spirits becomes almost visible through the music. The final chorus in eight parts shows in its solemn beginning a marvellous mastery of contrapuntal art, while the allegro on the "eternal womanly" perhaps in neither of the two different settings which Schumann has written, fully reaches his high intentions, and is unduly extended. There are many solo and concerted numbers, yet Faust remains the central figure. The sublime music accorded to him makes his part unique, approaches nearest the Christ in Bach's "Passion," and demands a noble voice, technical perfection, and the finest shading in the spiritual expression of every phrase. The orchestral part, too, demands a careful preparation. Schumann also composed many numbers in which Gœthe did not prescribe the assistance of music, and if it is true that as a whole this work has a fragmentary character, one must not forget that Schumann originally intended it for the concert stage, and as such it will forever remain one of the noblest tasks for great choral societies. However it cannot be denied that here too a full enjoyment of all the musical depth and beauty is only possible in connection with the German text, with the peculiar melody, rhythm and color of Gœthe's diction.

Of a somewhat fragmentary character is also the music to Byron's "Manfred." This dramatic poem with its wealth of thought and almost unbearable gloom was never intended for theatrical purposes; it has a kindred spirit with Faust and even with Schumann's own nature, and certainly no composer could have entered deeper into this poetical glorification of melancholy and despair. Schumann wrote the music under such conditions of mind that it could only come from the depths of his heart. The overture ranks among his greatest productions as a highly impressive picture of a passionate mental struggle, rich in new orchestral effects and finenesses of expression. Besides a lovely entr'acte the many melodramas force even upon those who generally are opposed to this form, the confession that Schumann was one of the greatest musical psychologists; while the few vocal numbers (except perhaps the song of the spirits of Ahrimanes and the Requiem) have less significance. One feels this especially in theatrical performances, which, although not intended by either poet or composer, impress us still deeper than the usual reading, singing and playing in concert form.

Already in 1842, Schumann had confessed that German opera was the subject of his daily prayer, it being a field in which much could be accomplished. This longing took a more decided shape in Dresden, where the operatic interest predominated. There he heard many new and old operas, watching also the development of him who was destined to become the central figure of modern musical dramatic art. Schumann's relation to Wagner's personal and artistic individuality and his opinion of the latter's earlier works cover a ground on which we hope the future will gain more information than that afforded by the occasional remarks in Schumann's letters. He had an irresistible desire to participate in the reform of the opera, and has shown in his "Genoveva," at least his idea of the best solution of the problem. He believed honestly in his ability to write dramatic music. After searching a long while among old legends and stories, thinking also of Nibelungen, Wartburg Contest and similar subjects, he decided in favor of "Genoveva," already treated as tragedy by Tieck and Hebbel. The painter-poet Reinick was invited to write a libretto, based mainly on Hebbel's drama; his book not being satisfactory, Schumann applied to Hebbel, who, however, politely declined. The composer, being thus forced to arrange it himself, not only combined the two different plots and styles of Tieck and Hebbel, but added new features, and omitted others which would have greatly increased the sympathy for his play and heroine. Musically he followed Weber in his last operatic experiment "Euryanthe," closely uniting words, music and action, and connecting the single scenes into one coherent act. But he substituted for the old form of the recitative the more melodious, but certainly more monotonous, undramatic arioso. There are four acts and four principal parts of contrasting individuality. There is no lack of passionate or tender emotional scenes, of great ensemble numbers, or of scenic display; nor does the lyric element unduly predominate, but in Schumann's mode of treatment even the dramatic speech assumes a lyric character, and with all the variety of moods, all the great single effects and the large number of beautiful music pieces (prayer, hunting song, love duet, etc.), one does not feel able to retain a hearty, active interest till the end of the last act. Instead of an impressive picture of human passions, sufferings and joys, we have only a musical illustration of an old story which we liked to read in childhood. Schumann entertained a very high opinion of his work, saying that it did not contain one bar of undramatic music. He erred, but nevertheless "Genoveva" remains a most interesting attempt of one of our greatest masters to solve the operatic problem, an attempt noble in its sincerity, rich in musical beauty and fine psychological detail, bright in color, yet of more of the style of oil-painting than the al fresco required by the stage. Long after the unsuccessful performances in Leipsic the opera has been revived in many German cities, still finding to-day a limited, but highly interested audience of those who love its author from his immortal masterworks in other fields. At least the magnificent overture will perpetuate its memory as a favorite concert number all over the world.

Thus Schumann has cultivated every field of his art, not with equal success, but always with sincere earnestness of purpose and a noble ambition to widen its domain, and to refine its mode of expression. How original was he in its treatment of melody, rhythm, harmony, instrumentation, and of the relation of music to poetry, in the combination of old forms with a new spirit and in his endeavors to find new forms. Closely connected in spirit and form with Bach, Beethoven and Schubert, he was himself so rich and original that he became a great influence upon younger representatives of his art, even on the other side of the Rhine and the British channel, though less so in southern countries. Some younger composers were particularly successful as his followers in some special field, while others showed his great influence in the shaping or coloring of many of their best known and otherwise most original productions. His music will be forever an inexhaustible source of pure enjoyment for earnest music lovers, and of the most valuable studies for young aspiring composers of any nationality.

There was however another means by which Schumann exercised a far-reaching influence, namely, his literary and critical work. His writings, collected by himself and published in two volumes, belong among the most instructive and enjoyable books on music. Yet one must not forget the time when they were written. Since then we have become accustomed to many new ideas and names, while many once prominent men and once famous compositions are already forgotten. Still, even if many articles of Schumann are interesting more in a historical sense, we cannot help being impressed everywhere by his pure, noble, enthusiastic spirit, his high opinion of the dignity of art, his extensive knowledge of a general character, and by his fine taste and clear judgment. He was as far from cold scientific theories as from mystic philosophical comprehensions. He was fond of an epigrammatic style, abounding in exclamations and beautiful poetic pictures. Indeed there is undeniably a similarity of style between his earlier writings and compositions.

Schumann's aim was to promote all high interests of art, a better knowledge of old masters, a loving appreciation of any merits of contemporaneous composers and the preparation of new fields for coming talents. How happy is he, when permitted to praise enthusiastically! how rare his ability, to so describe the beauty of a composition that we become really acquainted with its form and spirit! Yet he is not always enthusiastic, but sometimes quietly instructive, sarcastic and witty, or passionately angry, as in his one-sided, yet comprehensible attacks on Meyerbeer, Italian opera, or light piano music after the fashion of Herz. But it shows a generous and noble character that he, a rare productive genius, found almost his greatest pleasure in discovering new talents; that even after many years' retirement from all journalistic work, he once more raised his enthusiastic, prophetic voice to introduce Brahms to the musical world! Nor was he narrow-minded regarding nationality; no Pole could ever write of Chopin with more enthusiasm, no Frenchman of Berlioz with a keener appreciation than Schumann did, and how heartily did he welcome Gade the Dane, Bennett the Englishman, Verhulst the Hollander! He calls art a fugue, in which all the civilized nations participate alternately. His articles also abound in most remarkable statements of a general nature. Of a true work of art he demands a spiritual meaning and a form corresponding to the composer's individuality. "Music impels nightingales to utter love-songs, pug-dogs to yelp." "An equipped eye sees stars where others only clouds and shadows." "The critic must hasten past those who are sinking and fight for the men of the future." He ridicules those who "on a ladder try to measure a colossus like Beethoven with yard-sticks in their hands." In his reviews on new publications he confined himself to instrumental music, with a few exceptions. The famous article on Schubert's symphony in C has hardly more lasting value than the one on Berlioz, with the many significant remarks on the power of orchestral instruments for expression and description. But his many high praises of Mendelssohn honor him most. When once told that Mendelssohn was not true to him, he refused to believe it and always kept his memory as sacred as that of Schubert. Yet in speaking of their mutual relations Schumann confessed that he could learn much from Mendelssohn, but Mendelssohn could also learn something from him, and that, if he had been brought up in the same happy circumstances as his contemporaries, he would surpass them one and all. In Dresden Schumann kept a little theatre journal, in which he wrote short notes on old and new pieces; interesting remarks just like those in "Meister Raro's, Florestan's and Eusebius' Denk- und Dichtbüchlein" or the well known "Rules for young people."