UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI
Date:______
I, ______, hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of: in:
It is entitled:
This work and its defense approved by:
Chair: ______
Schumann’s Op. 14: Original, Revised and Edited (“Concerto without Orchestra” versus Piano Sonata No. 3)
Doctoral Document submitted to the Division of Research and Advanced Studies of the University of Cincinnati in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS (D.M.A.)
in the College-Conservatory of Music
2006
by
Eugene Kaminsky
B.M., University of Tel-Aviv, 1996 M.M., University of Cincinnati, 1999
Committee Chair: Dr. Steven Cahn
ABSTRACT
Robert Schumann’s 3rd Piano Sonata Op. 14, known also as “Concerto without
Orchestra,” belongs to a relatively small group of the composer’s unpopular and least
performed piano works. It rarely appears in recital programs, and when it happens to be
performed, it is usually and erroneously listed under both titles. The adversarial
publication history of this composition, along with the sporadic revisions and
substitutions made by the composer and editors, might well be among the key reasons for existing confusions around Op. 14 and its reputation of a bizarre by-product of
Schumann’s young years.
This document presents a detailed study of the history of the piece, the circumstances around its publication, and editorial notes based on the analysis of the changes (corrections, deletions) made by the composer himself as well as the changes made by editors later. Specifically, the study intends to analyze the options of the original compositional plan of the piece; to determine whether the changes in its structure and details were intentional or accidental; and consider whether these changes improve the music or disfigure and impair an otherwise successful composition.
James Whistler, a late nineteenth century American painter, once said that it takes two to paint a picture: the artist and another person, who stands next to the painter with a revolver, ready to blow out his brains if the painter begins to overwork the painting.
David Dubal, Evenings with Horowitz
CONTENTS
Chapter
1. Foreword………………………………………………………………….2
2. Op. 14: The History……………………………………………………….7
3. Moscheles: Op. 14 and Its Dedicatee ……………………………………19
4. Op. 14: The Structure…………………………………………………….25
5. Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Allegro Brillante ……………..33
6. Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Quasi Variazioni……………...51
7. Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Finale………………………...56
8. Op. 14: The Title………………………………………………………….65
9. Bibliography………………………………………………………………72
1 Foreword
Robert Schumann’s 3rd Piano Sonata Op. 14, known also as “Concerto without
Orchestra,” belongs to a relatively small group of the composer’s unpopular and least
performed piano works. It rarely appears in recital programs, and when it happens to be
performed, it is usually and erroneously listed under both titles. The adverse publication
history of this composition, along with the sporadic revisions and substitutions made by
the composer and editors, might well be among the key reasons for existing confusions
about Op. 14 and its reputation of a bizarre by-product of Schumann’s young years.
Though surrounded chronologically by some of his most famous works, such as the
Symphonic Etudes, Kinderszenen, the 1st and 2nd Piano Sonatas, and the Fantasia, the
Op. 14, composed around the same time, has rarely earned the interest of performers.
The textual ambiguities in several of Schumann’s compositions that underwent
revision after being published, and therefore exist in earlier and later versions, have often
been the subject of arguments. However, the array and the nature of textual discrepancies between the manuscript and various editions of Op. 14 are of a particular interest.
Schumann’s dissatisfaction with the 1836 version of the piece (which incorporated three
out of five movements of the manuscript) was the likely reason behind considering the
second edition of 1853, though still different from the original intent. The composer’s
discontent with either version was apparently the motivation for careful preservation of
both accounts of the piece in Clara Schumann’s 1893 edition of her late husband’s
complete works for Breitkopf & Härtel. The later editors, though acknowledging the ambiguities of the work, gave priority to the 1853 edition as the ultimate version, thus carrying over the inaccuracies and mistakes in it. These sometime evident and
2 unresolved discrepancies are likely to be one of the causes of this composition’s dubious
reputation.
In working on the present document by studying the most important editions and
the manuscript and researching all available information related to Op. 14, I have sought
to scrutinize and analyze the evident textual discrepancies in the piece. If the version of
1836 was based on three out of five original movements, the version of 1853
incorporated the second Scherzo, thus getting closer to the original text: four movements
out of five in the manuscript. It is very likely that Schumann’s death in 1856 prevented
us from seeing at least one more edition/version of the piece, and my strong belief is that
knowing the composer’s original intent should be considered a key issue in any attempt
to study and perform the Op. 14. After all, it was Robert Schumann who wrote, “The
first conception is always the most natural and the best. Reason errs, but never feeling.”1
That is why the restoration of the piece in its original form should be a crucial step in correcting the subsequent errors of reason.
Performance largely depends on the performer’s choice of the edition of the musical score. The tendency toward authenticity, which dominates today’s professional music performance world, has significantly cast aside editions of doubtful trustworthiness. Browsing through various editions of the same piece, today’s performer looks for the score that enables the artist to communicate the work without the interference of an intermediary: the editor. Not to reduce the importance of editorial work in preparation of the hand-written material for publishing, but the fact that editors frequently were assumed to be arrangers creates a peculiar array of choices for the
1Robert Schumann, Gesammelte Schriften über Musik und Musiker, ed. F. Gustav Jansen, (Leipzig, 1891), Vol. I, p. 25.
3 performer. The result of such editing often distorts the music so substantially that a
publication such as J.S. Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in Hans von Bülow’s
edition (available today from G. Schirmer) is viewed by the present day Bach scholars as rather a free fantasy on the source.
The materials used in this document include the six most authoritative editions of
Op. 14:
- 1836 – Haslinger (original edition)
- 1853 - Schuberth & Co. (second edition, revised by composer)
- 1893 - Breitkopf & Härtel (Clara Schumann – Johannes Brahms)
- 1900 - Peters (Adolf Ruthard)
- 1983 - Henle (Wolfgang Boetticher)
- 1985 - Breitkopf (Clara Schumann –Wilhelm Kempff)
I also make use of the precious microfilm of the manuscript of Op. 14 from the archives of the British Library in London - the only microfilm of the original manuscript available in the USA - kindly provided to me by John Roberts, head of Hargrove Music
Library at the University of California, Berkeley.
There are numerous excerpts from several old and recent editions, which are reproduced and analyzed in the course of the current document. Figures 4, 18, 20-21, 23-
24, 41, 46, 49, 52-62, 69, 71, 76, 79, 81 are reproduced by permission of The British
Library (Add. 37056 Sonatas). Figures 6-14, 66, 70, 72, 74, 78, 82 are reproduced from
Schumann Klaviersonate f-moll Opus 14 mit Frühfassung Concert sans Orchestre©1983 by G. Henle Verlag, München, used by permission. Figures 28, 37, 38, 65 reprinted from
Edition Peters No. 2300e with kind permission from C. F. Peters Corporation (Copyright
4 © by C. F. Peters Corporation, London. All rights reserved.). Musical examples in
figures 17, 29, 33 are used by kind permission of Breitkopf & Härtel, Wiesbaden.
Some invaluable advice and guidance in newly available materials on Schumann have
been given to me by Linda Correll Roesner, one of the most respected researchers of
Schumann’s manuscripts and the editor of several modern editions of his music.
This work presents a detailed study of the history of the piece, the circumstances
around its publication, and editorial notes based on the analysis of the changes
(corrections, deletions) made by the composer himself as well as the changes made by
editors later. Specifically, the study intends to analyze the options of the original
compositional plan of the piece; to determine whether the changes in its structure and
details were intentional or accidental; and consider whether these changes improve the
music or disfigure and impair an otherwise successful composition. I was also deeply
intrigued by the role of Ignaz Moscheles, the dedicatee of Op. 14, in the inspiration and
influence on Schumann’s piano writing style. It is also important to note that Op. 14
catalyzed Moscheles’ and Schumann’s personal and professional ties, which are
discussed in Chapter 5 of the present document. Moscheles’ influence and guidance of an
entire generation of composers is of immense importance and is a subject of a separate
study. Under no circumstances will the details of Schumann’s private life, nor facts of
his medical history be scrutinized in this document. The present study is entirely based
on the widely accessible printed musical scores and on the published correspondence of
Schumann available to every reader.
My hope is that these notes will provide a useful source of information to those
pianists inquisitive enough to study a number of editions of Op. 14 including the
5 facsimile of the manuscript, before performing the piece, instead of relying on any single existing edition of the piece as the ultimate score.
6 Opus 14: The History
The 2003 "Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis"
lists the period of composition for Op. 14 as “Entstehung: Leipzig, Winter bis 5. Juni
1836,”2 - an approximately half year time-frame to the period of creation and first re-
working of Op. 14.
The entry in Schumann’s “Tagebücher” does not provide much information on
that matter except:
Trüber Sommer Jahr 1836 Die Sonate in fis Moll erscheint Im Sommer das Concert sans Orchestre componirt, das schon im September erscheint.3
The “gloomy summer” of 1836 was the time of Schumann’s deepest crisis in his relationships with both Clara and Friedrich Wieck, deepened by frustration growing into defiance with Wieck’s teaching method and its outcome4.
The entry in “Briefverzeichnis,” in which most of Schumann’s correspondence
was recorded, shows that on February 3, 1836, Schumann sent a letter to publisher Tobias
Haslinger “Mit Sonate u.[nd] Etüden. Dank.”5 Therefore, by the beginning of February
the piece had already existed in its first draft. The new Sonata was in five movements:
Allegro Brillante, two Scherzos, Quasi Varaizioni, and Finale.
In a little over a month on March 8, 1836, Schumann sent a letter to Ignace
(Ignaz) Moscheles in London asking him to become a dedicatee of the new Sonata:
Für Ihre vielfache Aufmerksamkeit möchte ich ihnen wohl etwas Anderes bieten
2 The Margit L. McCorkle, "Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis" (Mainz: Schott, 2003), 60. 3 “Tagebücher” I, p. 422. 4 Before going to study with Wieck, Schumann was considering to study in London with Moscheles – plans, which never materialized. It might well be that Schumann, somewhere in the depth of his heart, was regretful of this, although he had never admitted so for obvious reasons – through Wieck he met Clara. 5 Linda Correll Roesner, “The Autograph of Schumann’s Piano Sonata in F Minor, Op. 14,” Musical Quarterly 61(1975), p. 100. The author also proves that the Sonata in reference can possibly be only the Op. 14.
7 können, als einen Brief voll räthselhafter Buchstaben. Finden Sie indeß nur so viel heraus, das ich mit großer Freude jener Octobertage gedenke, an denen ich Sie hören und sprechen durfte, und daß ich in der Erinnerung daran eine neue Sonate geschrieben, de rich gern ihren namen vorsetzen möchte.6
As one can see, by spring 1836 the piece was still called Sonata. A few months
earlier, in October 1835, Moscheles was visiting Leipzig, where he gave several public
and private performances, at which Schumann heard him play and was introduced to
Moscheles in person.
The exact succession of events following the submission of the draft to Haslinger
is vague. The facts, acknowledged by Wasielewsky, Schumann’s first biographer, are
that Haslinger returned the manuscript “suggesting that Schumann omit the scherzos and
publish the work with a title on the general idea of ‘concerto without orchestra’.”7 These
allegedly recommended changes were incorporated in June 1836.
The music publisher, Tob. Haslinger, however, insisted upon the thoroughly inappropriate name, “Concerto without orchestra”; and Schumann yielded to this whim, but felt obliged to omit the Scherzos, that the form might in some degree conform to the title.8
However, Margit L. McCorkle states that in Haslinger’s letter of March 30, 1836
he accepted the work, without mentioning any interference in its structure. Schumann’s
decision to revise the piece in fact happened after Haslinger’s acceptance of it. Within
the period of negotiations with the publisher, Schumann decided to thoroughly revise the
entire composition, probably taking both Scherzos out and composing a new Finale, and
sent the manuscript again to Haslinger along with a letter on June 10, 1836.
6 “For your consistent attention, I would like to be able to offer you more than just a letter full of mysterious letters. At least you will find here that I have been remembering in great joy those days in October when I heard you play and speak, and in that remembrance I wrote a new sonata to which I would gladly give your name” – translation E.K. 7 See Roesner “The Authograph…,” 103. 8 Wasielewski, Joseph Wilhelm von, Life of Robert Schumann, translated by A. Alger, (Detroit Reprints in Music, 1975), 100.
8 That the revisions were initiated by Schumann is confirmed by the 1981 edition of
“Briefe und Gedichte aus dem Album: Robert und Clara Schumanns” edited by Wolfgang
Boetticher, which presents a letter from Haslinger - most likely a reply to Schumann - written on 13 June 1836:
Ihre Idee mit dem Concert halte ich für die Zeit (mit der man doch immer gehen soll) sehr passend, und es soll mir lieb seyn, selbes bald zu erhalten, um ganz nach Ihrem Wünschen damit vorzugehen9.
“Ihre Idee” and “Ihrem Wünschen” indicate that the initiative to rename and to reshape the piece most likely originated with Schumann rather than with the publisher. A few lines below Haslinger added:
Nach meiner unmaßgeblichen verleger’schen Meynung dürfte wohl ein kurzes Vorwort (von einer Seite) zweckmäßig seyn, worinn angedeutet, daß dieses Concert blos für das Pianof. Allein componirt worden sey, wenn sich dieses mite in Paar Worte nich auf dem Titel selbst ausdrücken ließ. Der gegenstand ist neu, soll neu seyn, und die Bahn brechen10
In other words, Haslinger found the novelty of the piece so striking, that he advised Schumann to explain in the foreword “in a couple of words” what the title, literally translatable as “Concerto Only for Piano Alone” implies. In any case, within this period, the title had clearly evolved to what it is known today, acquiring its French name Concert sans Orchestre in three movements:
- Allegro brillante - Andantino de Clara Wieck (Theme and four variations) - Prestissimo possible.
9 “Your idea about the concerto seems at this time (we should always go with the fashion) very suitable, and I would like to receive it soon so that I can proceed with it entirely in accordance with your wishes.” – translation E. K. 10 “In my humble opinion, which is influenced by being a publisher, a short preface of about one page might be appropriate, in which it is suggested that this concerto was composed for just the pianoforte alone, if this is not able to be expressed in the title itself. This is a new genre and is supposed to make a break- through.” – translation E. K.
9 Haslinger was apparently very fervent to publish Schumann’s “novelty,” since
already in the June 24, 1836 issue of “Neue Zeitschrift für Musik” the announcement (Fig.
1) of the prospective publication was made.
Fig. 1
The reasons for this rush are hard to explain in any way other, than Schumann’s own
eagerness to advertise his new compositions. It is also likely that the announcement was
published by the composer himself on behalf of Haslinger, because the publisher at this time could not be certain about the title of Op. 14. According to the entry in Schumann’s
“Briefverzeichnis” it was not before July 2, 1836, that Haslinger was informed about the exact title11:
An Haslinger mit Genaue Angabe der Titel zum Concert-, bis zum 20. July hoffte ich, daß eine Revision bei mir sein würde.12
The proofreading was most likely done before the end of the month, since on July
30 Schumann wrote to Moscheles again:
Auch habe ich Ihre Erlaubniß, Ihnen eine Sonate widmen zu dürfen, lieber auf ein Concert für clavier allein ausgedehnt, von dem ich so eben die Revision nach Wien geschickt, wo es Haslinger verlegt. In vier Wochen ungefähr wird es in Ihren Händen sein und dann mögen Sie sich nur wundern, was man für tolle Einfälle haben kann.13
11 Margit L. McCorkle, Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis (Mainz: Schott, 2003), 61. 12Schumann to Haslinger with "exact indication of the title to the Concert -, I am hoping that a revision would be with me by July 20." – translation -E.K.
13 See McCorkle, Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis, p. 61. “Also I have rather expanded your permission to dedicate you a sonata into dedicating you a Concerto for piano alone,
10
The piece was published in September 1836. The September 20 issue of “Neue
Zeitschrift für Musik” placed a notice on behalf of Tobias Haslinger announcing the work
was available for sale for the price of 1 Thaler 16 Groschen per copy (Fig.2).
Fig. 2
Moscheles studied the composition sent to him thoroughly and diligently; the
Dankesbrief (“Thank you” letter) was written on December 20, 1836, almost three
months after he received the music. The content of Moscheles’ letter was the review that
Schumann, always reluctant to review his own music in his journal, chose to publish in
“Neue Zeitschrift für Musik” No. 16 of February 24, 183714 (Fig. 3).
of which I just sent a revision to Vienna where Haslinger is the publisher. In about four weeks, you will receive it and then you will wonder what stunning ideas one can have.” – translation-E.K.
14 Schumann on Music, compiled by Dover Publications, Inc., New York, mistakenly gives the year as 1843 for this review.
11
Fig. 3
“While on the subject of the latest concertos, it would seem appropriate to report on a so-called Concerto without Orchestra, just published by Haslinger, which those rascals Florestan and Eusebius have attributed to the undersigned. I shall punish them for this unauthorized use of my name by saying not a word about theirs [sic] Opus 14. At the same time, certain passages from the letter of a beloved master (to whom, by the way, the work is dedicated) strike me as being too important to permit of their being entirely suppressed. He says, among other things: “One wonders what may have prompted the title. It presents rather the characteristics of a big sonata than the requirements of a concerto, a big sonata of the kind we associate with Beethoven and Weber. In concertos, unfortunately, we are accustomed to expect some concessions to brilliant virtuosity or flirtatious elegance of execution. No such concessions could have been made in this work without compromising your conceptual intention. The predominant earnestness and passion are incompatible with the expectations of a contemporary concert audience, which does not want to be deeply moved and has neither capacity nor the sense of consecration required to grasp and comprehend such harmonies and ingenious obscurities. A proper appreciation of such thing is restricted to ears and temperaments attuned to the loftier inflexions of artistic heroes.
12 Much of the harmonization employs dissonances whose subsequent resolution brings balm only to an experienced ear. Anticipations and suspensions, whose development often becomes clear only after the second or third bar, are frequently harsh, although justified. In order not to be disturbed or abused by them one must be an experienced musician, who senses in advance and anticipates how every contradiction resolves itself. I think of a statesman who, amidst the tumultuous revelry of a court ball, seems to be focusing his eyes and ears on everything and yet actually concentrates on those few in whom he has a diplomatic interest”. There it is. Now, Florestan and Eusebius, make yourselves worthy of such benevolent judgment and from now on see to it that you are as strict with yourselves as you so often are with others. Robert Schumann15
On November 12, 1837 “La Gazette musicale de Paris” published the article
“Compositions pour le Piano de Mr. Robert Schumann” by Liszt discussing Opp.5, 11, and 14 by Schumann. Among other details Liszt wrote:
Mais en musique comme en literature il y aura deux grandes divisions: les choses écrites ou composées pour la representation ou l’exécution en public c’est á dire les choses d’un sens clair d’une expression brillante, d’une allure large, puis les oeuvres intimes, d’une inspiration plus solitaire, où la fantasie domine, qui sont de nature à n’être appréciées que du petit nombre. Le concerto de Mr. Sch[umann] appartient completement à cette dernière classe.16
It is difficult to disagree with Liszt’s opinion, and the future of Op. 14 confirmed it. Generally praising the piece, both Moscheles and Liszt stopped short of performing it.
Moscheles, who survived Schumann for 14 years (he died in 1870), was mostly preoccupied promoting his own compositions. As of Liszt’ position, he admitted many years later:
I enjoyed daily and hourly intercourse with Schumann while in Leipzig (especially at the beginning of 1840); and my knowledge of his works thus became still more intimate and deep. Since first becoming acquainted with his compositions, I had played several of them in private circles of Milan, Vienna, etc., but without being able to win any attention. They were, happily, too far beyond the absolutely erroneous, vapid taste of that time, to be brought into the haughty empire of applause. They did not suit the public and few pianists understood them. …The repeated failure of my performance of
15 Schumann on music: a selection from the writings. Translated, edited, and annotated by Henry Pleasants. (New York: Dover Publications, 1988). 16 “But in music, as in literature, there are two grand divisions, - things written or composed for public representation or execution; that is, things clear in sense, brilliant in expression, and grand in style; and then secret works from mere solitary inspiration, where fancy rules, which are of a nature to be appreciated but by few. Mr. Schumann’s Concerto belongs wholly to this latter class.” – Translation by A.L. Alger according to Joseph Wilhelm Von Wasielewski Life of Robert Schumann. (Detroit: Detroit Reprints in Music, 1975), appendix, p. 268.
13 Schumann’s compositions, both in private and in public, discouraged me from entering them on the programs for my concerts…17
Nevertheless, the letters of Stephen Heller (1813-1888), a member of Schumann’s
Davidsbund, and a correspondent for “Neue Zeitschrift für Musik” in Augsburg, one of
Schumann’s lifelong friends and supporters, hint at the fact that Heller could have played the Op. 14 in his concerts. Known today mostly as an author of numerous small-scale pieces, played mainly by children, Heller, a very prosperous and respected composer- pianist of his time, was genuinely enthusiastic about the piece. He was impatiently anticipating the publication of Op. 14 while in Augsburg, where he lived since 1828. In his letter to Schumann from April 25, 1837, he wrote:
Das Concert liegt mir schon lange im Kopfe, aber der hiesige Kunsthändler, …. hat es noch nicht von Wien erhalten.18
A few days later on 1 May, 1837, Heller wrote again:
Ihr Concert habe ich noch nicht, erwarte es aber mit Ungeduld. Der Musikalische handler hier ist so schläfrig, für das ganze Musikleben.19
Finally, when the piece received praise from the critic of “Allgemeiner Musikalischer
Anzeiger” of Vienna on 29 June 1837, Heller was triumphant. In his letter to Schumann
from 24 January 1838, he wrote:
Ihres Concert. Innig freute mich die Anerkennung Ihres seltenen Talents. Was ich in Wien am wenigsten verstanden glaubte, möge auch Beethoven seinen Rock dort getragen haben.20
Although there is no available evidence of Heller’s performance of Op. 14, the language and the enthusiasm in his letters, with which he anticipated the publication of
17 See Wasielewski, Life of Robert Schumann, 269. 18 Stephen Heller, Briefe an Robert Schumann. (Frankfurt am Main: P. Lang, c1988), 23. “The concerto has been in my head for a long time already, but the local art dealer has not yet received it from Vienna.” 19 Ibid, p. 25. “I didn't receive your concerto yet, but I am impatiently awaiting it. The musical dealer is so slow, for the entire music scene.”
20See Heller, 27. “On your Concert: I was very happy about the recognition of your rare talent - which I expected the least in Vienna, even though Beethoven lived there.”
14 Schumann’s piece, tip at the agitation of being the first. As well, it is still hard to believe that Clara could have possibly stayed completely indifferent to the piece. However, there is no documented performance of Op. 14 prior to 1853, when the new edition of the piece was published.
*
By the beginning of the1850s, Schumann had started to review and revise several of his earlier compositions and had withdrawn Opp. 5, 6, 13, 14, 16 from print. By this time Tobias Haslinger’s edition in Vienna was handled by his son Carl Haslinger, with whom Schumann apparently had strained relationship. The arrangements were made that the Hamburg-based publisher, Julius Schuberth, would buy the printing rights out and publish the Opp. 13 and 14 in a new version. On 27 April 1850, Julius Schuberth wrote to Schumann:
An Haslinger habe ich wegen Concert sans Orchestre geschrieben, ich hoffe zu reussiren21
The arrangements went fast and already on May 19, 1850 Schuberth wrote:
Das Concert sans Orchestre gehört mir; es erfolgt hierbei zu Correctur Würden Sie geneigen ein Scherzo dazu zu componieren? Der Titel 3te Sonate ist bereits von Ihnen bestimmt.22
The following excerpt is from the letter written on July 1, 1850:
Concert welches als 3te Sonate erscheinen soll, lasse ich bis zum Januar ruhen. Bis dahin wird sich bei Ihnen ein Scherzo eingefunden haben. Das Werk soll erscheinen im Frühjahr, weil ich sonst furs nächste Jahr zu wenig Schumann-Artikel haben dürfte. 23
21See McCorkle, Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis, 62. “I wrote to Haslinger about Concert sans Orchestre, which I hope to re-issue.” – translation E.K. 22 Ibid, 62. Schuberth to Schumann: “The Concert sans orchestre belongs to me; I am enclosing it for your corrections. Would you be willing to compose a scherzo for it? The title The 3rd Sonata is already determined by you.”
23 See McCorkle, 62. Schuberth to Schumann: “The Concert which is supposed to appear as The 3d Sonata, I will put aside till January. By then, you will have a scherzo. The work will appear in spring, because otherwise I probably will not have enough Schumann pieces for the next year.”
15
From this correspondence becomes obvious, that it was likely Schumann’s idea about re-
issuing the piece under the title Sonata. Moreover, the composer was not immediately
certain about the inclusion of the old, or perhaps new, Scherzo.
It took another three years before the second edition of Op. 14 – this time by
Schuberth & Co. - was published as the “Grande Sonate, Op. 14” in July 1853, now
having four movements
- Allegro - Scherzo - Quasi Variazioni - Prestissimo possible,
and numerous textual changes in the three previously published movements.
According to "Robert Schumann: Thematisch-Bibliographisches
Werkverzeichnis,” on the 8th and 12th of October, 1853, Clara Schumann played Op. 14
for her husband and Johannes Brahms at Schumann’s house. Most likely, that was a
performance of the newly printed 2nd edition, now in four movements and renamed
Sonata.
It is not clear whether Clara ever performed this piece after 1853. The only references to it, cited in Berthold Litzmann “Clara Schumann: An Artists Life,”24 are in
the appendix “Works Studied and Repertoire,” where under the year 1866 it mentions
Scherzo in F Minor from posthumous works by Schumann and later, in 1871, Variations
from Sonata in F Minor Op. 14. On January 6, 1863 in Vienna, in the Saal der
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Johannes Brahms gave a performance of Op. 14, as is
evidenced by the program in the collection of the Brahms-Institute in Lübeck. This
24 Berthold Litzmann, Clara Schumann:An Artists Life, translated by Grace E. Hadow (NewYork: Vienna House, 1972) , 451-452.
16 performance must be regarded as the first documented public presentation of Schumann’s
Op. 14.
In the early 1860s Brahms’s discoveries of several unpublished compositions by
Schumann (five additional variations to “Symphonic Etudes” Op. 13, a Presto conceived
as the original Finale for the Piano Sonata in G minor), included the Scherzo in F minor,
originally the second movement of Op. 14. Edited by Brahms, it was published the first
time in the 1866 by Rieter-Biederman.25
In the years 1879-1893 Clara Schumann was asked to compile and edit the new
edition of her late husband’s complete works for Leipzig-based Breitkopf & Härtel.
Volume 7 of this edition included both carefully preserved versions of Op. 14, as well as
Opp. 5, 6, and 13 in earlier and later versions. Clara’s decision to preserve both accounts
(and Clara was later frequently accused of inappropriate interference in her husband’s
output) proved that there was no finalized option for Op. 14. Nonetheless, more than
half a dozen editions (not to mention the countless reprints), which appeared in the years
following Clara Schumann’s one for Breitkopf & Härtel, were without exception based
on the 1853 edition, considering it the ultimate version of the piece published during the composer’s life.
In addition to Brahms’s apparent premiere of Op. 14 in 1863, another known early performance of it occurred on March 29, 1876 when Hans von Bülov played the work in his New-York solo recital26.
25In accordance with the preface of Wolfgang Boetticher to Henle edition of Op. 14. Alan Walker in his Robert Schumann: The Man and his Music gives the same year 1866 but different publisher – Kahnt. Both Rieter-Biederman and Kahnt editions were inaccessible for current research. 26 R. Allen Lott, From Paris to Peoria : how European piano virtuosos brought classical music to the American heartland (New York : Oxford University Press, 2003).
17 In the 20th century the Op. 14 became an almost totally obsolete piece, although such pianists as Alfred Cortot and Rudolf Serkin played it in their concerts at least once.
The factual revival of the piece can be attributed to performances and recordings by
Vladimir Horowitz, whose initial interest was the “Variations on the Theme by Clara
Wieck” movement only. He recorded it in 1951 and 1969 on RCA Victor and Columbia respectively, but it was not until the 1970s that he approached the piece in its entirety (its second edition). Two recordings that Horowitz made in February and May 1976 for
RCA and Music and Arts have undeniably proved that this obscure piece with a doubtful
“pedigree” can make a justifiable bid for a place in the concert repertoire of today.
However, Horowitz’s interest in Schumann’s Op. 14 did not last long. Following Horowitz’s stage performances of Op. 14, Harold Schonberg wrote: Even technically Horowitz seems ill at ease, as he sounds as though he is working very, very hard. One wonders if he really liked the piece. He dropped it after one season.27
To be fair, Schonberg has admitted that this sonata is a “sprawling, thick-textured,
terribly difficult piece with only one point of relaxation – the lovely third movement.”28
There are a number of recently recorded performances of Op. 14 on the market today, but the interest in this piece is still far behind the popularity of other Schumann’s piano works.
27Harold Schonberg, Horowitz: His Life and Music (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992), 343 28 Ibid, 343.
18 Moscheles: Op. 14 and Its Dedicatee.
For today’s reader the figure of Isaak-Ignaz (Ignace) Mosheles (1794-1870), the
dedicatee of Op. 14, is almost a forgotten name. However, in the first half of the 19th
century Moscheles was perhaps the most glorified pianist of all his contemporaries before
Liszt. Born three years after the death of Mozart and three years before the birth of
Schubert, Moscheles’ lived a relatively long life surviving even the younger generation of musicians like Chopin, Schumann, Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn – all of whom he knew, befriended, and performed with, and whose artistic life he influenced and frequently guided.
Performer of the broadest range, who in his early twenties became an apprentice
of Beethoven, he was a brilliant pianist with enormous repertoire, and an important
teacher,29 conductor, educator, and fruitful composer. He was one of the most versatile, encyclopedically educated figures in European music and a supreme authority for an entire generation of musicians. For that younger generation of composers (Chopin,
Schumann, Liszt, and Mendelssohn are among them), Moscheles represented a living link to the glorious past of music with such imposing figures as Salieri, Beethoven, Hummel,
Meyerbeer, Clementi, Weber, all of whom he knew personally.
29 Among Moscheles’ students were such pianists as Thalberg and Joseffy, pianists-composers Litolff and Grieg. In 1846, he was invited by Mendelssohn to become the first professor of piano at the newly founded Leipzig Conservatory. As a pianist he was the first and (for long time) the only performer of all Beethoven’s sonatas, including premieres of Op. 81a “Les Adieux”, and Op. 106 “Hammerklavier”. He was the first editor of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, piano concertos, piano trios, and piano variations, as well as the violin and cello sonatas; the translator of the first English edition of Schindler's “The Life of Beethoven” (Henry Colburn, Publisher, London 1841). It was to Moscheles, on March 18th 1827, that Beethoven, eight days before his death, sent a list of metronome markings for the Ninth Symphony. As a conductor in London for the Philharmonic Society Monday concerts at the King's Theatre (1832) and Hanover Square Rooms (1833-45), he conducted practically the entire works of Beethoven for orchestra and appeared as a soloist in three piano concertos. He was also one of the first performers of the romantic era to bring on stage the harpsichord works of the Baroque masters.
19 During the summer of 1816, the young virtuoso gave a concert in Karlsbad, where his performance caused a sensation, witnessed by six-year-old Robert Schumann. Many years later in his letter to Moscheles Schumann wrote:
You have given me much joy and done me a great honor by dedicating your Sonata for Piano and Cello to me. In so doing, you provided me with fresh incentive for my own aspirations in which you have always taken a benevolent interest. More than thirty years ago in Karlsbad, when I was a stranger to you, I refused to part with a concert ticket for a long, long time because you had touched it, so I kept it as if it were a relic. Little did I dream that so famous an artist would one day do me such an honor. Please accept my deepest gratitude!30
Traveling to Leipzig in 1824, Moscheles met the well-known music teacher
Johann Gottlob Friedrich Wieck and visited his house. Some years later, he wrote in his dairy:
I must have seen the little Clara, afterwards the famous Clara Schumann at her father’s, Mr. Wieck, and little did I think then what intense pleasure she would give me in after-years and how her execution of my own G-Minor Concerto in the Gewandhaus would delight me31.
Hence, the five-year-old “little Clara” was introduced to Moscheles in 1824. As for Schumann, it is difficult to establish with certainty, but most likely, he had not known
Moscheles personally before 1835. The tone of Schumann’s letter to Moscheles of
February 26, 1835 is much more official than the style of the later correspondence. In this letter (the first one in their exchange known to exist) Schumann wrote to Moscheles on behalf of “Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik,” asking him to recommend a person who might become a permanent correspondent for Schumann’s journal in London.
In the summer of 1835 Moscheles visited Leipzig again. He performed in several concerts, and a number of private performances32:
30 Emil F. Smidak , Isaak-Ignaz Moscheles (Hampshire: Scolar Press, 1989), 18. 31 Charlotte Moscheles, Recent Music and Musicians as described in the diaries and correspondence of Ignatz Moscheles, translated on English by A. D. Coleridge with help of Felix Moscheles. (New York: H. Holt, 1879), p. 210. 32 According to his diary, in Leipzig on October 1835 Moscheles played his own “Concert Fantastique” Op. 90, “Concert Pathetique” Op. 93, Concerto in G minor Op. 60, Fantasia on Airs of the Scotch Bards Op. 80,
20 I also went to see Wieck and had the pleasure of listening to Clara play the piano. Among other pieces, she played a manuscript sonata by Schumann - very labored, difficult, and somewhat intricate, although interesting music.33
This was the first time Moscheles had heard Schumann’s music. Apparently, he was impressed and intrigued, because on the same day he added:
In the evening I was again at the Wiecks, to meet Schumann, who is a retiring, but interesting young man34
That was the first time Moscheles met Schumann in person. The importance of being acquainted with and supported by Moscheles, as well as the performance of
Schumann’s music by Clara Wieck – who was celebrated all over Europe - was a tremendous endorsement for the composer. In the same letter to Moscheles from March
8, 1836, where Schumann asked for permission to dedicate to Moscheles his new Sonata
(Op. 14), the composer also wrote:
Clara Wieck is on the broad concert tour; my sonata (Op. 11) hasn’t even been given to engraver yet; the publishers don’t even want to hear about me; my hopes are with Haslinger only.35
Having Clara take Schumann’s as yet unpublished Sonata Op. 11 on her European concert tour was a successful promotional enterprise. Within days of the letter to
Moscheles, the Sonata Op. 11 was purchased by the Leipzig-based publisher Friedrich
Kistner and was being readied for print. Schumann’s letter to Kistner from March 19,
1836 is of the utmost interest as it gives a clear picture of Schumann’s insecure standing as a composer at this time and shows his dependence on the promotional power of the celebrities:
Rondo Brilliante by Mendelssohn, Bach’s Concerto for 3 Claviers (with Clara Wieck and Felix Mendelssohn) 33See Moscheles Recent music and Musicians, p. 212. 34 Ibid, p. 213. 35 Robert Schumann, Pis’ma (Letters), (Moscow: Musika, 1974), 250.
21
Deeply respected Herr Kistner, You might find some interest in the following idée of mine. The Sonata, which you, as I remember, could hear in performance of Clara, during the visit of Herr Moscheles, shall be published under such title Sonata for piano dedicated to Clara by Eusebius and Florestan The enigma of the title would be no doubt very attractive for many people. In any case, the expenses must get paid off. I will take care of it. If only you would undertake to publish it, I will ask you about 30 free copies only. I will not annoy you asking about the fine paper and print, since your publishing house guarantees that. The only thing I would like to ask you is to provide some unusual and amusing title page with an ornament, that we can also discuss. But ahead of everything else, I would like to ask you about the urgency of publishing the work, since due to a particular goal I must have it ready as soon as June. If you will not accept this, I would like to ask something different: in case I will publish the Sonata on my own, will you agree to mark the title page with the name of your publishing house? I also would like to ask you to take care of the sales of it for the regular commission. I will be able to provide the paper. As of everything else - engraving, plates, print, title page, binding, - you might be able to reduce significantly my expenses, if you could allow doing all this by means of your workers.36 .
His professional ties with Moscheles without any doubt provided the young composer with a significant advantage in promoting his music not only in Germany, but in England as well. In addition, it was through Moscheles, that Schumann became acquainted with British composer and pianist William Sterndale Bennett, to become life- long friends and mutual supporters. The articles written by Schumann on Bennett’s
Piano Concerto (the review that precludes the article on Op. 14 – see Fig. 3) and review of Moscheles’ Piano Concertos no. 5 and 6 are among the largest essays in “Neue
Zeitschrift fur Musik” of 1836.
From 1836 on, Moscheles became one of the first Schumann’s colleagues to regularly receive his newest compositions for reviews and critique. It is simply astonishing that Moscheles, whose ideal embodiment of the young musician generation of musicians was Mendelssohn with his classically transparent forms, was nonetheless fervently studying Schumann’s new scores and attending his premieres. Although
36See Schumann, Pis’ma (Letters), 254. Translation-E.K.
22 Moscheles’ diary entries on Schumann are mostly critical and frequently somewhat reserved, one can always sense that he was deeply interested in Schumann’s music, likely perceiving it as something “outlandish” though very intriguing and deserving.
On July 30, 1836, Schumann sent a letter to Moscheles, following the publication of the Sonata Op. 11. One of the first copies of the piece had been sent immediately to
London, and now Schumann was asking Moscheles to provide a review for his piece for
“Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik”.
Your review will be of immense importance for both advertising the Sonata and for Herr Kistner, the publisher. That is the prose part of the business. 37
After receiving the piece and the letter from the composer, Moscheles wrote in his diary:
The proper ground for finger gymnastics is to be found in Thalberg’s latest compositions; for spirit give me Schumann. The Romanticism in his works is a thing so completely new, his genius so great, that to weight correctly the peculiar qualities and weaknesses of this new school I must go deeper and deeper into the study of his works. He sends me his sonata “Florestan and Eusebius”, which has just been published, accompanied by the flattering remark, that I am the only person who can review the work properly, and would I do it for the “Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik” in Leipzig.38
In 1847 after hearing the performance of Schumann’s “Paradies und Peri”
Moscheles wrote in his dairy:
The performance fluctuated somewhat, but I nonetheless enjoyed those great and beautiful moments contained in this work.39
Deep respect and interest nonetheless never developed into personal closeness.
As Moscheles noted in 1849: The one great drawback I feel in Schumann’s society is his extreme reticence; try as I will, I cannot inveigle him into a conversation upon art.40
37 See Schumann, Pis’ma (Letters), 270. 38 See Moscheles, Recent music and Musicians, 234. The dairies of Moscheles were published in German after his death in 1870. They were edited by his wife Charlotte, and translated in English by A. D. Coleridge with the help of Felix Moscheles, the son of the composer. Analyzing this excerpt, I found the word “spirit” in the first sentence the better match to the original “Geist”, rather than the word “mind”, which appears in this place in the book. 39 See Smidak, 157.
23
In 1850, Moscheles visits Leipzig again, and becomes the first person to hear the newly composed “Genoveva” at Schumann’s house, played on the piano by Clara.
Madame Schumann played it through to me. … this opera is sure to be interesting to any artist; whether it will be popular, I cannot judge from hearing it once on the pianoforte41.
And after the premiere in Leipzig Theatre the revelation comes:
First impression: - Overture excellent, full of passion; choruses characteristic, the whole vocal part passionately felt, although not strikingly developed. There is a want of intelligible, flowing, rhythmical melody; I am one of Schumann’s worshippers, but cannot conceal from myself this weakness. We applauded enthusiastically, and called him forward at the end…42
In 1851: Schumann’s “Requiem for Mignon” does not please me so much as his more important compositions. In the “Waldscenen” too, which I have lately played, I thought the form too sketchy. I well understand that he, like a good poet, wishes to give an outline, and leave to the fancy of his hearers the filling in of the whole picture; but I prefer a more definite form and elaboration to that peculiar dreaminess, that irresolution and groping about. In his symphonies he is great.43
In 1852: I placed Schumann’s symphony again above his Sonata (A-Minor with violin) and the Trio in G- Minor. The former pleased me better than the latter.44
At this period of his life, Moscheles lived in London, being appointed as a
Professor at the Royal Academy of Music and also as Music Director and Conductor in
Chief of the Royal Philharmonic Society. Therefore, the fact of the dedication of the Op.
14 to Moscheles implied the critique from the highest priest of music and the most authoritative musician of Europe, whose endorsement might have been more than crucial for the young composer.
40 See Moscheles, Recent music, 353. 41 Ibid, 359. 42 Ibid, 359. 43 Ibid, 364. 44See Smidak, 175.
24 Op. 14: The Structure
The London manuscript of Op. 14 (1836) contains:
-Allegro brillante with original coda
-Scherzo 6/8 in F Minor Vivacissimo with insert of the new coda Piu allegro for first movement.
-Scherzo ¾ in D-Flat Major
-Quasi variazioni: Theme – Var. I – Crossed out Var. a – Var. III – Var. II – Crossed out Var. b – Var. IV with crossed out original coda.
-A single page of original Finale 6/16 Prestissimo. (On the verso of the last leaf of the Variations).
-New Finale 6/16 Prestissimo possible. Passionato.
“Fine. 5then Juni, 1836” inscribed on the last page of the manuscript. The
“gloomy summer” of 1836, according to Schumann’s “Tagebücher”, likely afflicted the composer to choose the tragic F-Minor key and variations on Clara Wieck’s theme, which has a character of a funeral march. The source of this theme has never been detected among Clara Schumann’s published works, therefore there are strong grounds to assume that Schumann’s choice and treatment of this theme (possibly from Clara’s sketches) was too significant in a musical or personal (or both) sense for her to carry on with it45.
The crossed out title Sonata is still readable, being substituted later with the new title Concert in Schumann’s handwriting (Fig. 4).
45The 1st movement of Schumann’s Sonata Op. 11 written few months earlier is based on two themes borrowed from Clara’s “Quatre Pièces caractéristiques” Op. 5, composed and published at the same 1835- 36.
25
Fig. 4
The strong thematic unity, based on the descending 5th motive, is noted in every source describing or discussing Op. 14. Both Yonty Solomon in “Schumann’s Solo
Piano Music” and Nancy Reich in “Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman” give a good deal of attention to this fact and there are strong grounds for it. It would not be an exaggeration to claim that the whole piece had thematically blossomed from the opening bars of the Andantino (Fig. 5).
Fig. 5 Quasi Variazioni, mm. 1-4
Indeed, the descending 5th of the Andantino became the musical “gene” of the
composition, the motto with which the piece starts (Fig. 6):
Fig. 6 Allegro brilliante, m. 1
26 In its descending form, this motto produces also the themes in Fig. 7 and 8, gradually
expanding itself to almost twice the initial length to generate the musical material in Fig.
9 and 10:
Fig. 7 Allegro brillante, mm. 62-64
Fig. 8 Allegro brillante, mm. 89-92
Fig. 9 Allegro brillante, mm. 239-241
Fig. 10 Scherzo, mm. 1-4
Taken as an inversion, the same succession forms the themes in Fig. 11, 12 and 13-16:
Fig. 11 Allegro brillante, mm. 28-29
27
Fig. 12 Allegro brillante, mm. 38-41
Fig. 13 Allegro brillante, m. 54
Fig. 14 Scherzo, mm. 9-11
Fig. 15 Prestissimo possible, mm. 1-4
Fig 16 Prestissimo possible, mm. 90-95 (46-48)
28 The F Minor Scherzo though has not inherited any thematic material made of this descending fifth and this fact might well explain the reasons for deletion of the movement from the printed editions (under both titles).
The order of the movements in the manuscript certainly shall not be considered as the ultimate plan of the composition, although the 5-movement piece was something that kept Schumann attempting in several other works, and therefore is of interest to be examined:
Allegro brillante - Scherzo F – Scherzo D-flat - Variations – Finale
Although the piece has never been published in this form, Schumann attempted the 5- movement Sonata once again in 1839 with “Faschingsschwank aus Wien”, Op. 26. In the letter to dedicatee Simonin de Sire, the composer called it “a great romantic sonata”.
The structure was different this time:
Allegro – Romanza – Scherzo – Intermezzo – Finale
In 1850 in his 3rd Symphony (“Rhenish”) another 5 movements plan was employed: fast – fast - slow –slow –fast:
Lebhaft (Dotted half = 66) – Scherzo (Quarter = 100) – Nicht schnell (Eighth = 116) –
- Feierlich (Quarter = 54) – Lebhaft (Half = 120)
In 1854, when Schumann was already at Endenich, Brahms completed his sonata Op. 5, in F Minor - the key of Schumann’s Op. 14 and with the structure of Schumann’s Op.
26: Allegro maestoso – Andante – Scherzo - Intermezzo – Finale
In the London manuscript, the Allegro brillante is immediately followed by two
Scherzos. The Andantino and variations movement appears only thereafter. The remarkable difference in the character of the two consecutive scherzos makes this succession musically justifiable. The tempo, heavy texture and registration of the
29 Scherzo D-flat are far more appealing to the march in ¾ of the kind that little later appeared as pieces “Kuriouse Geschichte” or “Wichtige Begebenheit” from
“Kinderszenen,” Op. 1546. The rhythmic kinship is apparent (Fig 17):
“Kuriouse Geschichte”, Op. 15/2, mm. 1-2.
“Wichtige Begebenheit”, Op. 15/6, mm. 1-2
Fig 17
Reworking the manuscript for Haslinger, Schumann decided to make Andante and Variations the 2nd movement of the piece, thus having its more appropriate fast-slow- fast structure fall under the standard Concerto form. This is clearly seen in the London manuscript immediately at the end of the 1st movement: “Folgt das Andante v. Clara
Wieck. S. 15” (Fig 18).
46 Schumann was experimenting with Scherzos on 2/4 (as in the 2nd Symphony) and Marches in ¾ (as no. 21 in “Carnaval”, op. 9).
30
Fig. 18
At the bottom of the same page, another remark “hierauf folgen ‘Quasi Variazioni’” is
present, which apparently was added because the new coda, pasted over the old one, was
concealing the initial instruction.
The analysis of inks in Schumann’s manuscript, examined in Linda Roesner’s
research, proved that these two instructions in composer’s handwriting, intended for
engraver, were made after the music was composed: first, with sienna ink, that
Schumann used to make corrections and deletions, and, at the bottom, with darker ink,
with which the insert of the new coda of the first movement was written. “The insert
seems to have been written in the same fine penpoint used for the finale. Furthermore,
the script displays the fluctuation between light and dart that characterizes the script of the finale.”47
The single crossed-out page of the original final movement Prestissimo (Fig. 20)
is preserved in the London manuscript. It confirms the idea that 6/16 time was for some
period Schumann’s idée fixe as the timing for the last movement of a sonata, including
the new Finale for Op. 14, as well as the original Finale of Op. 22, which was
subsequently replaced by another.
47 Roesner, Linda Correll. The Authograph of Schumann’s Piano Sonata in F Minor, Op. 14. Musical Quarterly, 61(1975), p. 108.
31
Fig. 20
The following 14 pages contain the new finale Prestissmo posibile, Passionato in 6/16, written after the piece was first submitted to Haslinger. The last page is marked in
Schumann’s hand with the date the composition was completed (Fig. 21):
Fig. 21
32 Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Allegro Brillante
Schumann’s peculiar treatment of the sonata form in the Allegro brillante and
Finale movements of the Op. 14 (as well as in the movements of Sonata Op. 22 and the
Fantasy, Op. 17) is discussed in the works of numerous researchers. The detailed
analysis of parallel form, realized in this particular movement, can be found in Linda
Correll Roesner’s article “Schumann’s Parallel Forms.”48 Though unsuited for Op. 14 in
its absolute meaning, certain structural elements of the piece could be placed within the
classical sonata form subdivision and its terminology could be used to describe the
thematic relationships better than any other classification or system. Therefore, for
convenience in discussing various thematic passages the following scheme of the
movement will depict its structure and “parallelism”.
Introduction mm1-7 Varied material of introduction and Theme I mm. 8-22 Theme I mm. 100-142
Bridge mm. 22-26 Bridge mm. 142-146
Theme II mm. 26-38 Theme II mm. 146-158
1st Closing theme mm. 38-46 1st Closing theme mm. 158-166 2nd Closing theme mm. 46-54 2nd Closing theme mm. 166-174 3rd Closing theme mm. 54-61 3rd Closing theme mm. 174-181
Variation on Theme I and II mm. 62-76 Variation on Theme I and II mm. 182-196 Variation on 1st Closing theme mm. 76-84 Variation on 1st Closing theme mm. 196-204 Variation on 3rd Closing theme mm. 84-100 Variation on 3rd Closing theme mm. 204-220
Reminiscence and Variation on material of introduction and Theme I mm. 220-233
Coda mm. 234-249
48 Linda Correll Roesner’s, “Schumann’s Parallel Forms,” 19th Century Music XIV/3 (Spring 1991). © by Regents of the University of California.
33 §
Fig. 22. 1st edition, Haslinger, Vienna, 1836, mm. 1-3.
The major differences in the metronomic marking for the Allegro brillante are
between the 1st, 2nd, and Clara Schumann’s editions. The later editions with no known
exception assumed the 2nd edition as the most reliable and finalized by the composer
version of the piece.
London Manuscript 1st Ed. Haslinger (1836) 2nd Ed. Schuberth (1853) Clara Schumann (1893) Allegro Brillante (Half note= 76) Allegro (Half note = 58) Allegro brillante (Quarter note = 126)
Since there is no deletion or change in the London manuscript, we can assume
that either the Stichvorlagen for the 2nd edition was different, or Schumann indicated several changes in separate notes or letters.
Fig 23. London Manuscript (LM), mm. 1-2.
34 In 1853 Schumann revised both tempo and character, changing it to a slower
Allegro (Half note = 58.) The word Brillante was deleted, perhaps as an unfit description
for the passionate and turbulent content of the movement. The Finale of “Symphonic
Etudes”, Op. 1349, chronologically precluding the 1st movement of Op. 14, is also marked
Allegro Brillante, and, although both pieces share some common elements, (abundance of
dotted rhythms and certain harmonic progressions), the triumph of the last Variation (D- flat-Major) with its powerful chordal texture cannot be compared to the deep passion of
Op. 14 (F Minor) with its low-register waves of accompanying figures, sounding more
somber than brilliant.
Clara’s decision to change it to Quarter note = 126 (slower than the 1st edition,
faster than the 2nd) might have been based on the attempt to give more substantiality to the
music as well as to juxtapose the faster tempo of the 1st movement to the Quarter note =
116 tempo of the 2nd movement Scherzo, that otherwise happens to be in the same Half
note = 58.
§
The change in the measure 8 is of a different nature: the sf clearly marked in the
manuscript and present in the 1st edition has vanished in the 2nd edition. This presence or
omission of this accentuation mark makes a major difference in the interpretation of the
theme, defining and shaping it (Fig. 24, 25, 26):
49 Interesting to note: Op. 13 was published (also Haslinger) in 1837 as “Etudes Symphoniques”. The 2nd edition appeared in 1852 (also Schuberth) under the title “Etudes en Forme de Variations”.
35
Fig. 24. LM, mm. 7-8.
Fig 25. 1st ed. Haslinger 1836, mm. 7-9.
Fig. 26 2nd ed. Schuberth, 1853, m. 8.
In accordance with the manuscript, (one can clearly see Schumann’s idiosyncratic
sf underneath both notes), b-flat is the first note of the theme. Moreover, it is the downbeat, making the second note a-flat, marked also sf, syncopated. This way the articulation of the theme is as if a string player would apply such a bowing:
Fig. 27
36 In the 2nd edition of 1853, the sf on b-flat has disappeared, making the theme start on a-flat. Deceitfully reinforced by the bass note, the actual second beat of the measure is perceived as the downbeat, like the example in Fig. 28 from the Sonata Op. 11, where the suspended appoggiatura could not be heard as syncopation, and the rhythmic confusion is even more enforced by the bass note, sounding as a downbeat.
Fig. 28. Sonata, op. 11, Allegro vivace, mm. 107-113.
Clara Schumann, apparently realizing this difference, “re-installed” the missing
sf as well as the phrase Schumann wrote in the manuscript “sempre rinforzando la
melodia,” which could refer only to it.
The p marking in the left hand part (present in the manuscript and 1st edition,
omitted in the 2nd, re-installed in Clara’s) also reinforces the idea that Schumann clearly wanted to avoid the natural accent of the bass to mark the second beat of the measure as a
downbeat. Therefore, the “persönlicher Überlieferung herausgegeben von Clara
37 Schumann” (the motto for Breitkopf & Härtel Schumann’s edition) in this case provides
not only authenticity, but also the correct musical meaning of the text, as in Fig. 29.
Fig. 29 Breikopf and Haertel, edited by Clara Schumann, mm. 8-9.
What made Schumann change the articulation in the 2nd edition? Could it have
been just a minor inaccuracy of the engraving and proofreading?
The change in m. 16 made for the 2nd edition can help us make a possible
assumption. The connecting episode of mm. 12-16 is built of six overlapping 4-note
motives, rhythmically “feminine”. In the manuscript as well as in the1st edition the last
one of six is one note short, which makes it masculine, while in the 2nd version the former
grace note e starting the main theme is reversed into the concluding note of the previous motive making it “feminine” as well.
Fig. 30 LM & 1st ed., m. 16. Fig. 31 2nd ed., m. 16.
Therefore, by doing that Schumann apparently changed his mind about the main
theme, and decided to start it on the second beat of the measure. On one hand,
structurally it changes the layout of the music, but acoustically the effect of sf-sf, which
38 could be easily produced on the bowed instrument, is practically impossible to realize on
the piano. This change of 1853 could have been the late acknowledgement of now
mature author of to what extend piano articulation could be effective.
Was this change for the better? Doubtful, because even the visual effect makes
AN (as well as every second beat of the following measures) syncopated, i.e. an enforced
note, rather than a simple shift of the downbeat. Moreover, the slur and the nature of the
theme in the right hand in measure 62 (imitation of the first theme) clearly shows that the
melody starts on the 1st beat of the measure. That was left without change in all the
editions.
Fig. 32. Allegro brillante, m. 62-63.
§
Although the 1893 Breitkopf & Härtel edition of Clara Schumann presented both
versions of the piece placed consecutively, the later reprints frequently presented the 2nd edition as the core version, having the ossia staves inserted when the discrepancies with the 1st edition were of a substantial nature. Nevertheless, the encircled note c (Fig. 33 of
the Allegro brillante) doesn’t seem to appear in any edition of the piece except Clara’s,
and therefore is questionable:
39
Fig. 33. Breikopf and Haertel, edited by Clara Schumann, Allegro brillante mm. 13-14.
In the edition of 1853 this note is a-flat and not c:
Fig. 34. 2nd ed. Allegro brillante, mm. 13-14.
§
The way the composer has written out the Theme IIa was apparently not an easy
decision. Although the difference in its appearance in the exposition and recapitulation
(Fig. 35, 36) is not a surprise, there is no audible dissimilarity that one’s ear is able to recognize. The reason for such a decision is an unanswerable question – the only possible explanation would be the quote from Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson, which
Boris Berman uses in the discussion of analogous questions in Beethoven50: “A foolish
consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds”.
50 Berman Boris, Notes from the Pianist’s Bench, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000, p. 114.
40
Fig. 35. Allegro brillante, mm. 26-27. Fig. 36. Allegro brillante, mm. 146-147.
Nevertheless, in Peters’ edition (Adolf Ruthard) this theme appears both times the way it laid out in the recapitulation (Fig. 37, 38):
Fig. 37. Peters, Allegro brillante, mm. 26-27.
Fig. 38. Peters, Allegro brillante, mm. 146-147.
§
The reasons and the explanation of the deletion in the 2nd edition of a single note in measures 66-67 (186-187 in recapitulation) could be purely pianistic:
41
Fig. 39. 1st ed., mm. 66-67.
Fig. 40.2nd ed., mm. 66-67.
The imitation of Semplice of m. 62 is so much more important melodically at this
point, that Schumann removed the unresolved 9th as an obstacle steering the attention away from the melodic line to harmonic turbulence. The emergence of the rest helps to achieve the required Stringendo.
The single-voiced texture of the same Theme IIe in the recapitulation (versus octaves in the exposition) could be best explained with the Emerson quotation.
§
The most difficult choice the performer needs to make in the first movement of the piece is regarding the measures 76-84 (196-204 in the “recapitulation”) – a variation
on the1st Closing theme. In the manuscript these measures are different from both
editions, and what was first written as in Fig. 41:
42
Fig. 41, LM, mm. 76-83. went into the 1st edition in a different arrangement:
Fig. 42. 1st ed. mm. 76-84.
and was changed in the 2nd edition of 1853 to:
43
Fig. 43 2nd ed., mm. 76-84.
If Schumann had left it the way it was in the manuscript, the structure would
have been as in the scheme of Fig 44. In this case the transposed 1st (one period) and
2nd (one period) Closing themes in A-flat Major (mm. 76-84) in the “exposition”, would have been almost exactly the same as the 1st and 2nd closing themes in A-flat
Major (mm.158-174) in the “recapitulation.” That probably was the reason that
prompted the composer to “cloud” the same harmonic progression by veiling it with
arpeggios and ascribing it a character of Innocente for the first edition.
Revising the piece in 1853, Schumann, apparently still dissatisfied with finding
the right solution for this tonal and thematic re-appearance, changed it again – this time
as in the scheme of Fig. 45. This way the tonal and thematic similarity of the elements in
the closing block becomes somewhat less literal and evident (since less transposed
material is involved). On the other hand – and that, perhaps, could have been the main
point in making the change – it helps to shape the closing block: the 1st closing theme
appears twice in its original form thus becoming the most definitive musical material
44 of the entire block.
Introduction mm1-7 Varied material of introduction and Theme I mm. 8-22 Theme I mm. 100-142
Bridge mm. 22-26 Bridge mm. 142-146
Theme II mm. 26-38 Theme II mm. 146-158
1st Closing theme mm. 38-46 E-flat Major 1st Closing theme mm. 158-166 A-flat Major 2nd Closing theme mm. 46-54 E-flat Major 2nd Closing theme mm. 166-174 A-flat Major 3rd Closing theme mm. 54-61 3rd Closing theme mm. 174-181 Variation on Theme I and II mm. 62-76 Variation on Theme I and II mm. 182-196
Transposed 1st (one period) and 2nd (one period) Transposed 1st (one period) and 2nd (one period) closing themes mm. 196-204 D-flat Major closing themes mm. 76-84 A-flat Major Variation on 2nd Closing theme mm. 204-220 Variation on 2nd Closing theme mm. 84-100
Reminiscence and Variation on material of introduction and Theme I mm. 220-233
Coda mm. 234-249
Fig. 44
45
Introduction mm1-7 Varied material of introduction and
Theme I mm. 8-22 Theme I mm. 100-142
Bridge mm. 22-26 Bridge mm. 142-146
Theme II mm. 26-38 Theme II mm. 146-158
1st Closing theme mm. 38-46 E-flat 1st Closing theme mm. 158-166 A-flat Major Major
2nd Closing theme mm. 46-54 E-flat Major 2nd Closing theme mm. 166-174 A-flat Major
3rd Closing theme mm. 54-61 3rd Closing theme mm. 174-181
Variation on Theme I and II mm. 62-76 Variation on Theme I and II mm. 182-196
Transposed 1st Closing theme mm. 76-84 Transposed 1st Closing theme mm. 196- A-flat Major 204 D-flat Major
Variation on 2nd Closing theme mm. 84- Variation on 2nd Closing theme mm. 204-220 100
Reminiscence and Variation on material of introduction and Theme I mm. 220-233
Coda mm. 234-249
Fig. 45
§
Two transitional passages in measures 111-112 and 225-226 and their final shape are ambiguous too:
46 Fig 46. LM, mm. 111-113. (*)
Fig. 47 1st ed, mm. 111-113.
Fig. 48 2nd ed., mm. 111-113.
The downbeat e-e’ octave, clearly seen in the manuscript (*), is crossed out. The brilliance and pathos of the octaves were substituted and smoothed out with a far less dramatic unison descent leading to the absent downbeat. This dramatic effect hardly adds to the much-needed continuity of the music and sounds like a rather abrupt halt of the natural flow. It appears that in revising the piece Schumann tried to downplay certain effects that could appeal to the original brilliante idea, but, nonetheless, the manuscript
47 does not have any crescendo marking in it while both the 1st and 2nd editions do. Most likely, it was added during the proofreading, but the composer was evidently struggling
to find the right solution for this spot.
The analogous place in the “recapitulation” was conceived as a passage with
cross-rhythms ending on the downbeat. Then the downbeat, clearly seen in the
manuscript, was deleted as well, and the passage, now leading nowhere, was broken up in
the 2nd edition into a martellato succession (Fig. 49, 50, 51):
Fig. 49. LM, mm. 225-227.
48
Fig. 50. 1st ed, mm. 225-227.
Fig. 51. 2nd ed., mm. 225-227.
§
The original Coda of the 1st movement is well preserved in the manuscript:
Fig. 52
Although Schumann later replaced it with a more extensive new coda, the same musical element – the scale – has taken a different arrangement:
49
Fig. 53, LM, mm. 234-end.
For unknown reasons the Più Allegro marking of the new coda in the manuscript
eluded both the 1st and 2nd editions, as well as Clara Schumann’s version. Among recent editions, it appears in Boetticher’s version of Henle.
This new Coda was likely glued on top of the old one, to cover it; therefore, perhaps the composer did not have to cross the old one out. It still remains a question, how the pasted new coda happened to be lifted off the page and placed separately in the manuscript. In 1866, one decade after Schumann’s death, Brahms published the F-
Minor Scherzo from Op. 14, omitted for publication earlier. To uncover the first two lines of it, inscribed on the same page right after the 1st movement coda, he apparently
had to remove the glued excerpt concealing it (assuming the absence of other manuscripts
of this piece).
50 Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Quasi variazioni.
The Variations movement went from edition to edition with no structural changes, although, before sending the piece to Haslinger, Schumann crossed out two variations and changed the order in comparison to the succession in the manuscript. The following pictures (Fig. 54, 55, 56, 57, 58) present the variations as they appear in the London
manuscript, including two deleted variations (for clarity will call them Var. a and Var. b
in analogy with the Henle edition, in which they are published in an appendix):
Fig 54 LM, end of the Scherzo – opening of Quasi Variazioni – Andantino.
51
Fig. 55 LM, Quasi Variazioni, Var. 1,Var. a, Var.III.
Fig. 56 LM, Quasi Variazioni, Var. III (continued), Var. II, Var. b.
52
Fig. 57 LM, Quasi Variazioni, Var. b (continued), Var. IV.
Fig. 58 LM, Quasi Variazioni, Var. IV (continued), Coda.
53
Original order of variations (LM): Published order (1836, 1853):
Andantino Andantino Var. I (Quarter note = 84) Var. I (Quarter note = 84) Var. II (a) Var. IV (Quarter note = 68) Var. III (Half note = 69) Var. III (Half note = 69) Var. IV (Quarter note = 69) Var. VI (Quarter note = 68) Var. V (b) (Scherzo prestissimo) Coda Var. VI (Quarter note = 68) Coda
Surprisingly, the 2nd edition of 1853 preserved the same metronomic markings as
the 1836 edition. However, Clara Schumann in her 1893 Breitkopf & Härtel edition
omitted all these metronomic markings except Quarter note = 84 in the Andantino.
§
The London manuscript has traces of the deleted original coda, more extensive
and, although seemingly more conclusive (Fig. 59), a little too static for a short
movement:
Fig. 59 LM, Coda of Quasi Variazioni.
§
54 The order of variations in the published piece was changed, while the framework
made of Var. I and Var. VI went to print with no change. It would not be disrespectful to
play this movement as it was conceived in the manuscript, incorporating either one or
both omitted Variations. They are still beautiful and original, although it is likely that
Schumann deleted them because he considered them as less sophisticated and engaging
than others.
As to the order of the variations, the degree of departure from the theme seems to
be the determining factor. The composer apparently made his choice toward a gradual
exodus from the thematically “explicit” variations I and IV to the thematically
independent Var. III and VI.
The order presented in the manuscript: “explicit” variations I and II are followed
by the alternation of “independent” variation III, “explicit” variation IV, and
“independent” variations V, and VI, followed by the Coda. That might be as well the
reason to call the movement Quasi Variazioni, rather than Theme and Variations.
55 Manuscript and Editions in Comparison: Finale
The single crossed-out page of the initially composed final movement Prestissimo is preserved in the London manuscript (Fig. 60).
Fig. 60 LM, the deleted Prestissimo.
The following 14 pages contain the new finale Prestissmo posibile, Passionato in 6/16 time signed at the end “Fine. 5then Juni, 1836” (Fig. 61).
56
Fig. 61 LM
This movement has suffered the least from revisions and editing, although some minor details are interesting to examine in depth.
§
The change of the meter from 6/16 in the manuscript and the 1st edition to 2/4 in the 2nd edition is, perhaps the most important adjustment made by composer. However, a discrepancy in metronomic markings happens already between the manuscript and the 1st edition (Fig. 62, 63):
Fig. 62 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 1-4.
57
Fig. 63 1st ed., Prestissmo posibile , mm. 1-4.
Fig. 64 2nd ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 1-2.
Fig. 65 Breikopf and Hartel, edited by Clara Schumann, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 1-2.
While the metronomic discrepancies in other movements are insignificant
between Schuberth’s and Clara’s editions, the difference here between Dotted quarter
=112 and Quarter = 94 is quite important and that might well explain the reasons behind the change to a broader pace of 2/4. As a result of such a meter and tempo augmentation, the melody is written out differently, although in actual performance it sounds seemingly the same.
58 There are several discrepancies between old and newer editions that need to be
examined although, unlike in the Allegro brillante movement, they do not affect the musical material significantly and are practically inaudible. However, it is interesting to scrutinize this material, especially because even such comprehensive editorial notes as in
the Henle edition neglect some of these inconsistencies.
§
Therefore, the encircled d-flat in m. 42 derives from the 1853 version, and is
either a misprint, or the result of some last minute correction (Fig. 66, 67).
Fig. 66 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 39-45.
Fig. 67 2nd ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 39-42.
59 The first edition of 1836 has not d-flat but c (Fig. 68):
Fig. 68 1st ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 78-90.
The manuscript has c as well (Fig. 69), although some of the melodic notes in it are made bolder.
Fig. 69 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 78-87. Any doubts are taken away in the analogous place in m. 208 (Fig. 70), having a-flat in the post-1853 editions, while the manuscript has a clear g (Fig. 71):
Fig. 70 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 205-208.
Fig. 71 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 412-417.
60 §
The notation of mm. 173-174 (Fig. 72) is a result of the revisions for the 2nd edition.
Fig. 72 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 172-174.
Both the 1st edition and the manuscript have these measures notated differently (Fig. 73):
Fig. 73 1nd ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 345-348.
§ The encircled a-flat in m. 304 (Fig. 74) is also a result of the 2nd edition revision, while the edition of 1836 and the manuscript have f (Fig. 75, 76.)
Fig. 74 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 303-305.
Fig. 75 1st ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 605-609.
61
Fig. 76 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 605-610.
§
Fig. 77 clearly shows the change of meter in the 1st edition from 6/16 to 5/16.
The last measure of this succession (before the martellato) is in 6/16 again (the encircled notes in Fig. 77), although it is not marked, but there is the sixth beat – the 5th f-c, which probably became unnecessary in the 2/4 meter of the 2nd edition. Nonetheless, the rhythmic and metric instability of the original is much more effective musically than the later one.
Fig. 77 1st ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 643-651.
62
The analogous passage from the modern Henle edition is taken in accordance with the 2nd edition of 1853, although there is no confirmation of this change in the manuscript (Fig.
78, 79)
Fig.78 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 323-326.
Fig. 79 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 649-651.
§
Similarly the encircled notes of the following excerpt were printed in the 1st edition in accordance with the manuscript (Fig. 80, 81), which require a significant stretch of the fingers, were simplified in the 2nd edition as in Fig. 82.
63
Fig. 80 1st ed., Prestissmo posibile, mm. 667-673.
Fig. 81 LM, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 671- 674.
Fig. 82 Henle, Prestissmo posibile, mm. 336-337.
64 Op. 14: The Title
With the title “Concerto without Orchestra” Schumann has hardly invented a new genre. The only other piano piece so entitled and known to the author is “Concierto sin
Orquesta” Op. 88 by Joaquín Turina (1882-1949). In that respect, Bartok’s Concerto for
Orchestra could be viewed as an intentional direct antipode. Nonetheless, it might be
interesting to examine the motives that have possibly prompted Schumann to re-consider
the original Sonata title for his piece, and then change it back in 1853.
The importance of a non-traditional enigmatic title for the composition is
expressed by Schumann himself in the letter to publisher Friedrich Kistner:
You might find some interest in the following idée of mine. The Sonata, which you, as I remember, could hear in performance of Clara, during the visit of Herr Moscheles, could be published under such title Sonata for piano dedicated to Clara by Eusebius and Florestan The enigma of the title would be no doubt very attractive to many people.51
The concern to find an appropriate and attractive title extends to several pieces conceived during the same period - Sonata Op. 14 (“Concert sans Orchestre”), Fantasie
Op17 (Dichtungen: Ruinen, Siegesbogen, Sternbild), Kreisleriana Op. 16 - as if
Schumann was trying to avoid the genre-titles by all means.
On the other hand, the reasons might have been practical as well. The original title
Sonata rebuffs the idea that the piece had ever been considered as a Concerto for Piano
and Orchestra, as some assume. By 1835 Schumann had already attempted several times
to write a piano concerto, but the compositional process hadn’t gone beyond sketches and
general outlines.
51 Robert Schumann, Pis’ma, (Moscow: Muzyka, 1975), 254.
65 The brilliancy and effectiveness of the piano concerto stimulated composers of
the post-Beethovenian generation to give special treatment to the genre. Taking into
account that public piano recitals were very much a rarity until the 1840s, the piano was
heard solo in public for the most part in improvisations. The standard enterprises for pianists were accompanying singers, playing chamber music, or - performing concertos.
In that respect, the concerto with orchestra could have been the only genre with a
pronounced focus on the soloist. The rise of the piano virtuoso school, catalyzed by the works and pedagogical methods of Czerny, Cramer, Kalkbrenner, Field and others along with the developments in piano manufacturing (the brilliant sound of the hammer- mechanism, double action, triple-stringed choirs) made the genre of concerto a decisive vehicle for pianist-composers to demonstrate their individual idioms. Consequently, the solo part of the concerto was developed into a solo-obligato, dominating the orchestra voices and lasting throughout the piece practically non-stop, except for the conventional tuttis. The public became mainly interested in pianists-composers as personalities and streamed to the concerts to watch them performing their own peculiar tricks and delights.
To make these performances commercially profitable, the composers must have had consider the relative ease and sight-readability of the orchestra parts, to make sure that the orchestra players would be able to accompany them with a single rehearsal or perhaps not at all. That made it possible for composer-pianists like Henri Herz (1803-1888) – the one who enjoyed tremendous popularity and success in the 1830-1850s – to perform three piano concertos of his own in one concert in Paris in 1840 with no orchestra rehearsal. The musically non-demanding and non-pretentious orchestral parts of many of these concertos could easily be incorporated into the solo part, therefore harmlessly
66 transformed the piece into a piano solo. Moscheles was one of the pioneers of
“compressing” concertos into a solo piano part when he published several of his piano concertos, as well as Mozart’s Concerto K. 451, and all five Beethoven’s Concertos in arrangement for a single piano, being followed by composers such as Mendelssohn,
Littolf and Alkan. Chopin’s works for piano and orchestra, opus 2, 13, 14, and 22, are written in exactly this manner, which also served another purpose - to make the pieces accessible for private performances. When in 1845 Schumann’s Piano Concerto Op. 54 was published, it appeared in print in a version for one piano, incorporating both solo and orchestra parts, which became a pretty standard practice by then. Besides turning concertos into solo pieces, composers also started using the old practice of Mozart, who published his Piano Concertos K. 411- 414 in an arrangement for piano and string quintet, and therefore made them performable in homes and salons. Chopin published his
Concerto Op. 22 in an arrangement for piano and string quartet52; Moscheles arranged his
own piano concertos no. 4, 5, and 6 for such an ensemble, as well as Beethoven’s
Concertos no. 3 and 4. To guarantee successful sales, the piece had to appear in print in
several arrangements: in the full score, for piano solo, for piano 4-hands, for two pianos,
etc. Some editions, such as Durand, preserved this practice until today.
However, for Schumann’s Op. 14, the reasons might have been of still a different
nature. As Moscheles jotted in his diaries of a 1835 visit to Leipzig, the impression of
Schumann’s Sonata Op. 11 was of “very labored, difficult, and somewhat intricate,
although interesting music.” Alas, it turned out to be the dominating opinion on
Schumann’s music throughout the composer’s lifetime. Schumann’s piano pieces “did
52 Jim Samson in his book “Chopin” (Oxford University Press, 1996) noted: “His [Chopin’s – E.K.] F Minor concerto is in direct succession from Hummel, and it is worth pointing out that he was happy to play it as a solo, in accordance with a common practice of the day” (p. 47).
67 not suit the public and few pianists understood them,” wrote Liszt, whose letters to
Leipzig nonetheless reveal the most sincere appreciation only, tempered by the necessity
of temporary concessions to the general taste of the public.
In May 1838 from Liszt wrote from Vienna:
Your Carnaval and Fantasiestücke I find exceptionally interesting. I play them with real delight, and God knows that there are not many things of which I can say as much. Frankly and plainly speaking, it is in general only Chopin’s and yours works which have a powerful interest for me.
On June 5, 1839, from Albano:
As to your Kinderscenen, I owe them one of the greatest pleasures of my life. You know, or you don’t know, that I have a little 3-year-old daughter… Well, my dear Herr Schumann, two or three times a week (on fine and good days) I play your Kinderscenen to her during the course of the evening; this enchants her, and still more, as you can imagine, so that I often play the first repeat 20 times over without going any further. I really think you would be pleased with this success, could you be a witness to it!..... In the meantime I plan to play your Carnaval in public, plus some of the Davidsbündlertänze and Kinderscenen. The Kreisleriana and the Fantasy dedicated to me are more difficult for the public to digest, and I shall reserve them for later.” (Italics mine-E.K.)
Indeed, Schumann’s sophisticated musical and harmonic language together with often-complex structures might have seemed incomprehensibly intricate even for a refined ear. The youthful experiments in sound effects seemed to be a capricious bizarre
whim, virtuosic bravado seemed at times too excessive and unplayable, self-created
fantastic images looked unappealing to dilettante circles. On the other hand Schumann
had largely depended on reviews of his music made by colleagues, while never reviewing
his own compositions himself, obeying the norms of journalistic ethics.
From Schumann’s letters it becomes evident that the publishers were rarely
interested in printing his works and often rejecting them. In 1848 Härtel wrote to
Schumann:
68 The market for your compositions is, by and large, rather limited – more limited than you could believe… We have lost through the publication of your works a significant sum and there is at this point little prospect of recovering it.”53
In the letter from Paris in 1838, Clara expressed herself straightforwardly:
Listen, Robert, won’t you compose something brilliant and easy to understand for once, something that has no titles or headings, but hangs together as a whole, not too long, not too short? I want so much to have something of yours to play in public, something that suits the audience.
In 1838 Clara was nineteen. Schumann was twenty-eight years old author of
sixteen published compositions from Abegg Variations to Kreisleriana (Fantasy, Op. 17
and Novelleten, Op. 21 already existed and were to be published within a few months),
and already for four years the leader and editor in chief of one of the most influential musical periodicals in Germany.
The pompous title of “Concert sans Orchestre” could have been a gesture to conform to reality, a lure for amateur-musicians and professionals hunting for new works of technical brilliancy and orchestral power. Furthermore, “Brilliante” and
“Concertante” are very frequent epithets in the titles of the piano compositions of this time: for instance, Clara Wieck’s debut in 1830 included Kalkbrenner’s Rondo Brilliant,
Herz’s Variations Brillantes, Op. 23 and Quatuor Concertant for four pianos, Op. 230 by
Czerny54.
Regretfully or contentedly, neither of the offered explanations could be proven
today as a decisive motive for giving the Op. 14 its name. Nevertheless, it stands out as
one of the most bizarre names, a heading, conceived as enigmatic, which has apparently
backfired.
53 John Daverio, Robert Schumann : Herald of a "New Poetic Age" (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 137, note 38. 54 Nancy Reich, Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca: Cornell University Press), 261.
69 Be that as it may, it was not the name of Op. 14 that shaped the text and the form
of the piece, but rather the musical material with its ambiguous options, leading to the
changes made in 1853. The attempt to finalize these changes into a definitive version of
the piece was undermined by Clara Schumann, who found necessary to publish both
accounts of the piece in her edition, and for a reason. The textual differences in early and
late editions of Schumann are an open-ended subject. The personal choices of performers
made at the points where two or more options are available, are based on taste but should
also be justified historically and theoretically. Moreover, the absence of one definitive
text might be viewed as a creative challenge for the performer. Schumann’s own
revisions, as new renditions of the old material, are frequently characterized as a result of the composer’s growing maturity. However, it is hardly applicable to Op. 14. Charles
Rosen’s description as “being out of sympathy with youthful audacity”55 seem to be a
cautious explanation of what John Daverio characterized as “lost interest in the earlier
compositional efforts”56. Nevertheless, whatever explanation might apply, one thing will
be true regarding Op. 14: a judgment cannot be made on the basis of either version of the
piece without knowing all the options contained in the manuscript with its daring,
fanciful, and bright ideas, many of which were unfortunately crossed out by the composer
himself. The Henle publication of Op. 14, edited by Wolfgang Boettischer, turned out to
be the most comprehensive edition of the piece ever issued, providing today’s performer
with the most complete text of the manuscript, and therefore leaving the decision to the
performer’s discretion. And in that case the example of Leopold Godowsky (according
55 Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1995), preface. 56John Daverio, Robert Schumann : Herald of a "New Poetic Age" (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 138.
70 to the memoirs of Heinrich Neuhaus), who studied one of Chopin’s Mazurkas using 17(!) different editions, is not an anachronism, deserving condescension for an old man’s caprices, but a scholarly must.
71 BIBLIOGRAPHY
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______. The Marriage Diaries of Robert and Clara Schumann: From Their Wedding Day through the Russia Trip. Edited by Gerd Nauhaus; translated, with a preface, by Peter Ostwald. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1993.
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`
73