Scan 15
Musical Courier 1892-12-14: Vol 25 Iss 667, 1892
38 lines. Read by computer on 20 September 2026. Printed page 16. See the scan on archive.org.
1ROBERT SCHUMANN,
2HIS PIANO WORKS.
3BY FR. NIECKS.
4(Concluded.)
5AND now let us try to ascertain what these grosser elements of Schumann's style, the more prominent points of his piano technique, are:
6It often appears as if the peculiar notation of Schumann might be rendered more simple; but if you try you will find in most cases that the effect is no longer the same. Moscheles made some such objection to Schumann, which the latter answered thus: "You must make allowance for some things in my notation. I really do not know how to write the three A flats one above the other in any other way. The high A flat is only to sound softly after the others, and therefore I did not know how to write otherwise."
7No doubt Schumann would have given a similar answer to other objections of the same kind, and, I think, on the whole with justice. Still it must be admitted that the interlacing and crossing of parts, unless carefully rendered with light and shade, and perhaps in some cases even then, causes at times obscurity, where the eye must come to the assistance of the ear. This weakness is closely connected with the composer's virtues, and is, no less than these, characteristic of his nature. Indeed, the peculiar mental characteristics of Schumann are mirrored in his style. The warmth of heart, the pure sensuousness, find expression in the full extended chords.
8Were you to go over all the piano literature since Dussek, who was one of the first to make use of the far-stretched chords, you would not find one who produced by means of them such mellow richness of tone, such Titianesque coloring. With most composers these chords have generally either a lumpishness or emptiness about them; with him they have either a soft, transparent substantiality, or the glitter and elasticity of burnished steel. In connection with this, I may also mention the distribution of parts, the assigning of the melody to the bass.
9Sometimes, also, its distribution among different parts, all which is so unlike the common arpeggio trick introduced by Thalberg or Parish-Alvars that I have already called it a kind of scoring, as it has an effect like that of different voices or instruments. See also "Scenes of Childhood," No. 12; "The Child Falling Asleep" (Vol. II., p. 366 of Pauer's edition). The dreamy yearning, the losing himself in infinite longing, are manifested in the frequent syncopations, which sometimes also express a breathless excitement, in which case the accented part of the bar usually occupied by the bass note is often left open and the accompaniment on the melody and accompaniment continue again on the unaccented part of the bar. The "Davidsbündler" affords many different examples.
10Schumann's habit of playing much with the pedal raised must not be forgotten here, as it is related to the same characteristic.
11The rich tracery of suspensions, changing and passing notes, point to the romantic transcendental in Schumann's nature; so does likewise the combination of the binary and ternary rhythm.
12What gives especially a strong appearance of truthfulness to Schumann's music is the manner in which he commences his pieces; eschewing all formality he plunges at once in medias res. Not seldom he begins as if something else had gone before, just as a man who has been meditating will on a sudden turn round on his companion and startle him with a thought the drift of which the latter cannot at first understand; or he breaks out like one whose feelings have been long pent up, and cannot longer be restrained.
13It would require a treatise by itself were I to go into a detailed analysis of Schumann's achievements as a harmonist. What were then novelties, the unprepared dissonances, the successions of distantly related keys and chords, need no longer be justified; they are recognized as legitimate, and indeed have become quite familiar to us. But what seems to be less understood is that such a revolution in practice—boldly begun by Beethoven, continued by Schumann and Chopin, and seemingly brought to its culminating point by Liszt and Wagner—necessitates also a like revolution in theory. What we require is a simplified system of harmony, first of all a simpler nomenclature. Many awe inspiring and sorely puzzling chords of the composers of our day would become plain enough if, instead of speaking of chords of the eleventh, thirteenth, or of such and such an inversion of such and such a chord with such and such chromatically altered intervals, we would cease to look upon them as independent chords, and think of them only in connection with other chords, of which they are retardations. So also many strange successions will find their explanation in an ellipsis. However, this is not the place to discuss this matter. At some other time I may perhaps be permitted to enlarge upon it, and explain my view in full.
14And now a few words in conclusion. There is a notion pretty generally entertained that if Schumann had received a more systematic art training he might have obtained a still greater success in his artist career. This, however, seems to be questionable. In calculating such possibilities, the character of the individual has to be taken into account. What is good for one may be hurtful for another; and what is a gain in one respect may be a loss in another. It cannot be denied that if Schumann had gone through the usual course of studies before publishing, the world would not have seen such immature compositions as the "Air on the Name of Abegg, with Variations," the "Papillons," the "Intermezzi;" and it would not have lost much; but very likely he would not have given us the "Davidsbündler," the "Carnaval," the "Kreisleriana," the "Novelletten" either, and this would have been a grievous loss indeed. We are too apt to confound form with particular kinds of form. Now a piece may have an excellent form, and yet not belong to any of the conventional forms we know.
15Thus also in other branches of our art, systematized fashions are often mistaken for invariable laws of Nature. Take, for instance, a survey of the history of harmony, its systems and their vicissitudes. Now if Schumann had learned his lesson well he would have had a great deal to unlearn before he could have done justice to his peculiar gift; and, as we all know, it is more difficult to unlearn than to learn. Schumann's sonatas, op. 11, 14 and 22 leave much to be desired; but their shortcomings are due to their pretension to be what they were not and could not be. There is a jarring of contents and form. Still these attempts to create larger works, although not wholly successful, had a beneficial influence upon those that succeeded them. The "Kreisleriana" and "Novelletten" would not have been possible without such discipline, by which he strengthened his mental grasp. His first compositions are short and simple pieces; here we have larger and complex pictures, I for my part do not regret that Schumann did not receive what is generally considered the proper preparation for a composer, for it is my opinion that it would have shorn the poet of much of his originality and spontaneity; and it is questionable whether even at such a cost he could have attained the highest degree of excellence as regards classical form. His was a peculiar nature and must not be judged by the common standard.
16The great merit of Schumann is to have opened a new vein of musical thought. Perhaps he has not always been able to give to this thought that perfection of form which it is capable; but in some instances the nature of the thought may have precluded a nearer approach to perfection. There are qualities which in their highest state of perfection are incompatible with each other; they can be joined only in a diluted, inferior degree. Can you imagine the emotional expressiveness of the later Greek sculptors combined with the sublime grandeur of a Phidias? How is it possible to combine the different qualities of a Palestina and Pergolesi, a Bach and Haydn, or even a Mozart and Beethoven, or a Mozart and Glück? They exclude each other to a certain extent. An artist has either a genre—that is, he excels in one specialty—or he has one of those wide-reaching powerful minds that sum up individuals and ages. Schubert is greater in song than Beethoven; Chopin has done things which Beethoven could not have accomplished; and yet who doubts that he is greater than either of them, and still will tower in his solitary grandeur when they and all that pertains to them have crumbled into dust? Schumann belongs rather to the former than to the latter class; he rather possesses some qualities in a high state of perfection than unites many in complete harmoniousness; his music has more of the individual than of the universal.
17However, although I hold that the contents of Schumann's works was not in all instances capable of a perfection of form such as we find in the works of his contemporary, Mendelssohn, I admit that his thought might have found a more perfect expression if he had allowed it to crystallize. At times one may say of it: Elle n'a pas assez passé par l'âme. One cause of this was, perhaps, his composing at the piano. Wasielewski informs us that Schumann did so up to the time he wrote his op. 50.
18It must be evident that one who works thus cannot have the same grasp of his subject and attain the same unity, harmoniousness and clearness of structure as he who allows his thoughts to grow, accessory ideas to amalgamate with the principal, till at last a perfect whole is the result, and the composer—to use Mozart's words, who gives in one of his letters an interesting description of the process of crystallization—overlooks the whole at a glance, as if it were a fine picture or a beautiful human figure, and hears it in his imagination, not bit by bit as it must come afterward, but the whole at the same time.
19I hope this will not discourage some young composer; let him rather try how far practice will enable him to imitate Mozart, and if he fails he may comfort himself with the knowledge that he has good company; and let him remember that Mozart was the clearest head, although not the deepest, among the musicians the world has as yet seen.
20Well, let it be granted that Schumann wrote too fast, that he was too chary of the limae labor, then we come again to the question—and it is well worth asking again—how much would have been lost of the precious metal of spontaneous thought by these filings? Would the man not have lost as much as, or more than, the artist gained? Considering the composer's nature, I feel inclined to think that the gain would not have counterbalanced the loss. Nevertheless, the more Schumann wrote, the more ease he attained in expressing himself clearly. As his style formed itself, as his mind widened, the form became clearer too. Remember, also, that his art, like all romantic and most most modern art, is picturesque rather than plastic. But whatever your final estimate of Schumann may be, you cannot deny that he has produced much that has enriched the art and achieved much that will endure. "Truly," he says in one of his letters, "I have toiled and striven for twenty years, heedless of praise and blame, toward the one goal—to be called a true servant of art." Oh that all artists would lay these words to their hearts, and following his noble example, place gain and fleeting reputation after the true interests and advancement of art!
21Suite and Sonata.
22BY H. SHERWOOD VINING.
23THE word suite is the French for "a series," and was applied in the seventeenth century to the cyclical form of musical composition, which, as the term implies, was composed of a series of pieces or dance movements. The term sonata is derived from the Italian word sonare, meaning "to sound," and was originally applied to compositions "sounded by instruments," and later to this cyclical form of composition growing out of the suite, which as it developed became one of the most important forms of musical composition, since its contrasted movements express varying states of rising and falling emotions which pass through the entire "cycle of feeling."
24The pieces which constitute the suite are the prelude, allemande, courante, allegro movements; sarabande, the one slow movement; bourree or gavotte, allegro movements, and the finale in the form of a gigue, presto movement. Some suites contain a minuet, polonaise, brawl, chaconne, passacaglia or other old time dance movement. The partita resembles the suite and is distinguished from it by its greater elaboration; it usually consists of a prelude, fugue, allemande or allegro, courante, sarabande, rondeau, caprice, presto, &c. Of these old dance forms the rhythm and characteristic expression of "measured dignity and quaint humor," are retained and artistically developed and all the artistic means of musical composition are employed.
25The allemande is a German national dance, moderate tempo, and expresses "earnestness and cheerfulness."
26The courante gives the idea of running, and expresses "incessant bustle and hurry." The word is from the Italian correre, "to run."
27The sarabande is a stately, solemn dance borrowed from the Saracens. It is the most carefully developed movement in the suite.
28The bourree was invented in France, and expresses "smooth, sliding motion rather than running."
29The gavotte, or dance of the Gavottes, or gap men, also invented in France, resembles the bourree and is a lively movement, expressive of "springing," sometimes having a continuous bass called a "musetta."
30The gigue is lively and full of bustle and the most scientific in form of any piece in the suite.
31The minuet is a dignified dance in moderate tempo invented at Poitou, where it became the favorite court dance. In order to give variety and contrast the second, or middle, part is composed for three voice parts, and generally performed by three instruments and called the trio. It is written either in the key of the piece or in the dominant. A repetition of the first part concludes the minuet.
32A polonaise is a national Polish court dance having a rhythmical caesura on the last beat of every measure.
33The chaconne is said to be from Arabia, the name meaning "the dance of the king." It has a "ground bass," consisting of a short melody and striking rhythm, which is constantly repeated with accompanying parts, which contain figures called couplets.
34The passacaglia, which means the "trotting of the cock," resembles the chaconne.
35The Anglaise is an English country dance which includes the "country dance," "ballad" and "hornpipe."
36The brawl resembles the cotillion. The different movements of the suite are all in the same key, but contrasted in tempo, an andante following an allegro, and a presto following an andante; while the tempo and rhythm vary, a unity in the whole is maintained.
37The sonata contains four contrasted movements elaborately written, logically and artistically developed. The first movement, an allegro, is the most important and the foundation of the whole composition, the following movements—andante or adagio, minuet or scherzo, rondo or finale, serving by their contrasts to intensify and develop the prevailing idea, which passes through every phase of emotion—"earnestness and conflict, spiritual expression, wit and quaint humor, and finally cheerfulness and con-
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