Robert Schumann 1810-1856
German composer and critic.
Schumann composed some of the most original masterpieces of Romantic music. His songs and piano miniatures inhabit an undisputed place in the pantheon of Western music. Schumann's famous struggle with mental illness has also fascinated researchers, including psychiatrists, who endeavor to shed light on the nature of the illness and his ability to create works of genius despite it.
Schumann was born June 8, 1810, in Zwickau, a Saxon town located near present-day Germany's border with the Czech Republic. Official documents do not refer to a middle name, although Schumann's first biographer, Wilhelm Joseph von Wasiliewski, cited it as Alexander. Schumann grew up surrounded by books: his father was a successful bookseller and an author of some repute. After receiving an excellent secondary school education, which enabled him to read the Greek and Latin classics in the original, Schumann went to Leipzig in 1830 to study law. Uninterested in the law, Schumann immersed himself in literature, keeping abreast of all the momentous literary developments in Germany and writing many fragments, poems, and prose pieces which he hoped eventually to develop into great literary works. To his family's consternation, late in 1830 Schumann declared that he wanted to be a musician, and he remained in Leipzig to pursue a musical career. Schumann's future father-in-law, the eminent piano teacher Friedrich Wieck, declared that in his hands Schumann would become a rival to the greatest virtuosos. These hopes were dashed, probably in 1832, when Schumann suffered a mysterious hand injury about which scholars have offered several theories. This event signaled the beginning of Schumann's career as a composer, for it is in the 1830s that he started writing his astonishing piano miniatures. In the meantime, Schumann had made his debut as a music critic. In 1831, in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, Schumann reviewed Frederick Chopin's “Là ci darem la mano” variations for piano and orchestra, presciently declaring that the Polish composer was a great genius. Defining his literary work as a veritable crusade against mediocrity in music, Schumann cofounded the Neue Zetschrift für Musik, a journal into which he poured all his efforts, eventually assuming most of the writing and editorial responsibilities. For ten years, Schumann used his journal to champion talented composers, single-handedly establishing what posterity would accept as the canon of Romantic music. In addition, throughout the 1830s and 1840s, he composed his greatest masterpieces, including the Carnaval, for piano, and the sublime song-cycle, Dichterliebe (The Poet's Love), based on Heinrich Heine's poems. In 1840—after a fierce legal battle with Wieck, who did not want him as a son-in-law—Schumann married Clara Wieck, an immensely talented pianist on her way to becoming one of Europe's greatest virtuosos. Married life introduced a modicum of stability into Schumann's life, but his mental instability, evidenced by suicidal behavior in late 1833 and early 1834, remained a concern. Furthermore, despite his natural inclination toward smaller musical forms, Schumann constantly forced himself to attempt larger forms such as symphonies and concertos, often feeling despondent and frustrated by the public's lukewarm response. One of these disappointments was the failure of his only opera, Genoveva (1843). In 1843, Schumann accepted a teaching post at the newly-founded Leipzig Conservatory, but performed his duties without much enthusiasm. The following year, Schumann resigned from the position and moved his family to Dresden. After he left Leipzig, Schumann started experiencing serious professional difficulties. In 1850, he agreed to become conductor of a civic orchestra and chorus in Düsseldorf. His state of mind steadily deteriorating, Schumann threw himself into the freezing waters of the Rhine in February 1854. After his rescue, he voluntarily entered the asylum at Endenich, near Bonn, where he died in 1856. Hypothetical diagnoses of Schumann's ailments include depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and syphilis, but none of these have been confirmed. Interestingly, in his 2001 Schumann, Eric Frederick Jensen cites evidence suggesting that Schumann's death was not due to his illness, but rather to the barbaric treatment he received at Endenich.
Among Schumann's numerous critical reviews, scholars generally single out the prophetic “An Opus 2,” in which Schumann, upon hearing Chopin's “Là ci darem la mano” variations for piano and orchestra, op. 2, utters the famous “Hats off, gentlemen, a genius!” Much later, in 1853, in another famous piece, “New Paths,” Schumann announces the arrival of a new genius, Johannes Brahms. In both cases, Schumann's uncannily accurate assessment was based on slender evidence, the compositions in question being very early works of as yet unknown composers. These reviews exemplify a new style of criticism, inspired by E. T. A Hoffmann but brought to perfection by Schumann. As a critic, Schumann ignored established rules and relied on his intuition. Initially, Schumann's critical writings relied on an elaborate set of literary devices, including dialogues and conversations between imaginary characters. As music historians have pointed out, Schumann worked hard to forge an objective, analytical approach to music despite the immense success of his subjective style. Indeed, as Florestan and Eusebius faded away, Schumann's reviews and essays became a trusted guide to contemporary music. However, as Carl Dahlhaus observed, Schumann formulated his entire approach to music (including a revolutionary philosophy of music) during his early years as a critic. Thus, in “Master Raro's, Florestan's, and Eusebius's Booklet of Thoughts and Poems” (1833), Schumann identified Bach and Beethoven as ideals to be emulated. In linking Bach and Beethoven, Dahlhaus noted that Schumann departed from conventional thinking, which, following stylistic considerations, associated Bach with Handel, and Beethoven with Mozart. In fact, Dahlhaus identified Schumann's insight as the philosophical foundation of an original and epoch-making musical utopia that combined “Bach's contemplative depth and Beethoven's Promethean sublimity.”
Viewed by his contemporaries as a critic in the imaginative and somewhat flamboyant tradition of E. T. A. Hoffmann, Schumann was perceived as a writer driven by his subjective views. This perception was radically revised in the twentieth century, when scholars started examining Schumann's ideas and observations in the larger context of nineteenth‐century German culture. Henry Pleasants stated that “it was in his craftsman's appreciation and assessment of craftsmanship that Schumann stands pretty much alone.” Often an inspired critic, scholars insisted that Schumann nevertheless strove to attain objectivity. Indeed, not only did Schumann reach his goal of critical objectivity, but he also became a relevant voice in German intellectual life. In his seminal Schumann as Critic, Leon Plantinga described Schumann's critical work as truly multi-faceted, one that offered important aesthetical views and an original philosophy of music history. Dahlhaus concurred with this line of thought, even suggesting with other scholars that Schumann's writings established a new paradigm of thinking about music, a paradigm that hardly seems dated in modern times.
Music and Musicians (nonfiction) n.d.
Die Davidsbündler (prose) 1833; published serially in Der Komet
“Master Raro's, Florestan's, and Eusebius's Booklet of Thoughts and Poems” (criticism) 1833
Dichterliebe (songs) 1840
Neue Zeitschrift für Musik [editor and contributor] (journalism) 1834‐44
Genoveva (opera) 1843
Gesammelte Schriften über Musik und Musiker. 4 vols. (criticism, aphorism, prose) 1854
Early Letters (letters) 1888
Letters (letters) 1907
On Music and Musicians (nonfiction) 1964
The Musical World of Robert Schumann: A Selection from Schumann's Own Writings (nonfiction) 1965
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SOURCE: Brion, Marcel. “Chapter 7.” In Schumann and the Romantic Age, translated by Geoffrey Sainsbury, pp. 148-67. New York: Macmillan, 1956.
[In the following excerpt, Brion defines Schumann's criticism as a work of art.]
It was partly to do justice to the great men of the past, partly to give a helping hand to young musicians scorned by the critics and unnoticed by the public, that Schumann decided to found a musical review. The idea was born in a cloud of pipe and cigar smoke at the Stammtisch of the Kaffeebaum, where he and his friends were accustomed to meet. This silent meditative man, who liked to sink into himself to listen to the music that was humming in his heart, was also a fighter. It would perhaps be better to say a knight-errant, for he was always ready to take up his lance to tilt at self-satisfied mediocrity and artistic insincerity—in a word at Philistinism. To instruct the ignorant by standing up for all that was great and good and deflating hollow pretensions was for him a sacred duty. It was not in any merely polemical spirit, it was not for the sake of scoring off others, nor was it in order to advance the interests of his friends that he stepped into the arena. To his mother he wrote:
We are busy planning a new big musical review which Hofmeister will publish. Its programme will be announced next month. … A new enterprise...
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SOURCE: Plantinga, Leon B. “Introduction,” “Schumann's Style of Criticism,” and “Schumann's Aesthetics of Music.” In Schumann as Critic, pp. ix-xiii; 59-78; 111-34. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967.
[In the following excerpts, Plantinga examines several facets of Schumann's criticism, with particular emphasis on his style and musical philosophy.]
At the age of twenty, Robert Schumann, thoroughly bored with his law studies at the University of Heidelberg, decided to devote himself to music. This was in the autumn of 1830, and during the next year he plunged wholeheartedly into not one, but three kinds of musical activities: piano playing, composing, and writing music criticism. In the spring of 1832 a hand injury put an end to his ambitions as a pianist; but by that time he had already published his earliest compositions as well as his first essay on music, and the pattern of his life was set for some time to come.
In one of the two musical careers left to Schumann, he seems to have achieved permanent recognition. Though his stock as a composer fluctuates mildly from time to time (less than Mendelssohn's, more than Chopin's) a good bit of his music has long been a stable part of the active repertory. But though Schumann himself once said he preferred writing music to writing about it, during much of his lifetime he was in fact better known and more influential as a...
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SOURCE: Botstein, Leon. “History, Rhetoric, and the Self: Robert Schumann and Music-Making in German-Speaking Europe, 1800-1860.” In Schumann and His World, edited by R. Larry Todd, pp. 3-46. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994.
[In the following essay, Botstein places Schumann's literary and musical work in the context of nineteenth-century German culture and thought.]
INTRODUCTION: RESCUING THE HISTORICAL SCHUMANN
“I often wonder whether my cultural ideal is a new one, i.e. contemporary, or whether it derives from Schumann's time.” This thought, jotted down by Ludwig Wittgenstein in 1929, identifies how the work of Robert Schumann has come to be thought of as emblematic of a past discontinuous with our own.1 Schumann's music is understood to represent a critique of the twentieth-century present. An idealized and vanished culture whose qualities we wish we retained reappears to us in the music.
Wittgenstein's observation was a species of early twentieth-century nostalgia for a preindustrial world of Hausmusik (obliterated by a late nineteenth century that Wittgenstein found uncongenial)—for a civilized Biedermeier, bourgeois, domestic life of culture readily associated with Schumann, particularly with his piano and vocal music. The interconnection between the literary and musical in much of Schumann's music,...
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SOURCE: Daverio, John. “Music Criticism in a New Key.” Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic Age,” pp. 105-30. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.
[In the following excerpt, Daverio demonstrates how Schumann's criticism reflects his passionate desire to unite music and language.]
A BARRIER AGAINST CONVENTION
In March 1833 Schumann arrived in Leipzig after a four-month stay in Zwickau and nearby Schneeberg, the home of his brother Carl and sister-in-law Rosalie. As noted in the previous chapter, the first movement of his G-minor Symphony was performed at both locations: in Zwickau on 18 November 1832 and in Schneeberg in mid-February of the following year. On returning to Leipzig, Schumann took an apartment with Carl Günther, a law student, in Franz Riedel's Garten, an establishment on the outskirts of the city. He continued to work on his G-minor Symphony (certainly on the last movement, and perhaps also on the second and third as well), the first movement of which was rendered, but only with limited success, at Clara's “grand concert” of 29 April at the Gewandhaus. But at about the same time, which Schumann described as the beginning of his “richest and most active period,” his thoughts turned to a project that would have tremendous consequences not only for his own career but also for the future course of music journalism: the founding of a new journal...
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SOURCE: Jensen, Eric Frederick. “Schumann and Literature.” In Schumann, pp. 39-57. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001.
[In the following excerpt, Jensen explains how Schumann's literary erudition informed his critical style.]
The greatest pleasure in life is that of reading, while we are young.
—Hazlitt, “Whether Genius is Conscious of Its Powers”
For 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 life—the 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...
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Jensen, Erick Frederick. “Schumann at Endenich.” The Musical Times CXXXIX (March-April, 1998): 14-24.
Sheds light on Schumann's time as an inmate at Endenich, suggesting that his condition was aggravated by unenlightened medical practices.
Ostwald, Peter F. Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985, 373 p.
Discusses Schumann's mental ailments, with an emphasis on manic depression as a possible diagnosis.
Dahlhaus, Carl. The Idea of Absolute Music. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1989, 176 p.
Discusses the philosophical and cultural foundations of thinking about music in nineteenth-century Germany, with particular reference to Schumann's originality as a writer and thinker.
Lippman, Edward A. “Theory and Practice in Schumann's Aesthetics.” Journal of the American Musicological Society XVII (1964): 310-45.
Discerns original aesthetical ideas in Schumann's criticism.
Plantinga, Leon. Romantic Music: A History of Musical Style in Nineteenth-Century Europe. New York and London: Norton, 1984, 523 p.
Discusses Schumann's music and writings in the context of nineteenth-century European...
(The entire section is 267 words.)