Schumann’s songs can be easily divided into two groups. The first, comprising about a hundred, was composed in 1840, the year of the composer’s marriage, and of his most fertile and romantic productivity. After writing these, he professed himself satisfied with what he had done (well he might be) and doubted whether he should ever write songs again. His most fervent admirers cannot help wishing that he had kept to his purpose. A dozen or so indifferent songs were produced in the next ten years, and then, from 1850 to 1852, when his mental powers had begun seriously to fail, he turned out more than a hundred. The contrast between the two groups is striking. The first is nearly all genius; the second nearly all mediocrity. At best, two or three songs from this whole later period are worth knowing. Of the first group there is scarcely one which does not show high creative excellence and there are at least fifty of the finest quality or close to it.
By far the greater part of the songs of the earlier period are grouped in cycles. Of these, however, there is only one which contains that most distinctive quality of the cycle, a unified narrative—as in Schubert’s Müllerlieder. This is the immortal Frauenliebe und Leben. Another, the Dichterliebe, is closely bound together and primarily intended to be sung as a unit.
Robert and Clara Schumann
After a daguerreotype from life.
Three more cycles, while looser than the one just mentioned, are like it in being set solely to the words of one author. And another, Myrthen, has little beyond a common title for unification. A few other songs have no grouping except that of an opus number.
The first of the songs form a Liederkreis (song-cycle), opus 24, words selected from Heine. This is obviously an experimental work, though it contains several fine numbers. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen delicately maintains its mood. Number 5, Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden, is pure melody with a simple accompaniment in Schubert’s style, one of the most affecting of all Schumann’s songs. Sung with a constant and rich legato, and with well-chosen modulations of tone quality, it is immediately effective. Number 9, Mit Myrthen und Rosen, is much admired by musicians; it is unlike most of Schumann in giving an unusual lyric freedom to the voice part, but the accompaniment, with its delicate inner voices, suggests what was to come later. The Myrthen of opus 25 include some of Schumann’s finest. The very first, Widmung (‘Dedication’),[24] is one of the great songs of all time. Such passionate ardor a composer has seldom been able to compress into a few notes. The fine legato contrasting melody, introduced by an impressive enharmonic change, is the purest of German lyricism. The accompaniment, while conventional enough in its relation to the voice part, shows the freedom, and especially the wide separation of notes, which was to flower so magnificently in the Dichterliebe. The great danger in singing this song is that of making it sound hurried or ‘choppy.’ Here, as so often in song singing, the correct tempo is half the battle. Let the singer aim to avoid ‘choppiness,’ on the one hand, and dragging, on the other, and the correct tempo will come almost automatically, though, of course, no tempo can hold a song together if there is not a firm legato behind it. Der Nussbaum (‘The Almond Tree’) is another immortal melody. In this song the accompaniment enters as a lyric element, as it rarely does in Schubert except in interludes. The half-phrase of the voice with its answering phrase from the piano—this is an effect of striking charm. The supporting part of the accompaniment shows the principle of the simple broken (or ‘harp’) chord used more freely than had been the common custom. In Die Lotusblume (‘The Lotus Flower’) the novelty in the accompaniment is very different—a slow and impressive melody arising out of the lowest bass notes of the harmonic support.
In these songs we see the piano beginning to sing with the voice on terms of equality. In number 15, one of the ‘Hebrew Melodies’ of Byron, we see the formal accompaniment very highly developed. It has become quite pianistic, with much figuration, and a profusion of chromatic passings which remind us of Schumann piano pieces. Yet this is a true accompaniment in the old-fashioned sense, and not, as in some of the later songs, an independent piano composition. Lass mich ihm am Busen hängen and Du bist wie eine Blume are charming examples of Schumann at his simplest. We cannot point out the precise elements of beauty, yet we feel that the music subtly matches the simplicity of the words. In other terms, we see in these two songs that ultimate test of artistic mastery—the command over style. And in these instances the style subsists quite as much in the voice as in the piano part. The great piano stylist of the preceding decade has begun to turn his peculiar gifts to pure vocal music. The grandiose Talismane (‘Talismans’) is perhaps not of high value musically, but it shows the engaging freshness of Schumann’s romantic invention. The three Burns songs—‘Somebody,’ ‘The Highlander’s Farewell,’ and ‘The Highland Cradle Song’—are simply melodies of great beauty and are to be sung as such. The last-named offers a problem to the singer in the need of combining the somewhat jerky, rocking motion of the cradle with the calm monotony which overspreads the whole.
The five songs, opus 27, need not detain us. Of the three songs from Emmanuel Geibel the last, Der Hidalgo (‘The Hidalgo’), is particularly interesting. As an attempt at local color (which was never Schumann’s forte) it has no special value. But the vigor of the accompaniment, with its varied bolero rhythm, and the quiet passages on the words ‘Die Schönen von Sevilla,’ suggest once more some of the wonderful piano passages of the Dichterliebe.
Of the three songs, opus 31, we must note Die Löwenbraut (‘The Lion’s Bride’) as a fine example of the larger ballad form. This form Schubert frequently attempted without ever achieving better than mediocrity. And Schumann himself failed miserably at it in his later years. But in the present instance he gave us a model. The declamatory voice part agrees accurately with the prosody of the text without ever quite losing a melodic value. The accompaniment of the first section consists only of occasional supporting chords. It is recitative, but, unlike the recitativo secco of Italian opera, it is recitative raised to the status of music. The singer should be careful never to lose the musical beauty of the voice part and at the same time not try to force it into a formal melody. The middle section illustrates admirably a device which Schumann used better than any other of his time. This is the development of a long passage of vocal music from a single phrase. The vocal part in this middle section is scarcely more than the repetition, in many forms and keys, of one short and very lovely phrase. This device is peculiarly suited to the ballad, which, being in constant forward motion, is liable to lose coherence if the music does not offer some basis of unification. Schumann used the same device later in his ballad, Blondels Lied (‘Blondel’s Song’), and here with even more poetic fitness; for the phrase on which the piece is built up is that accompanying the constantly recurring refrain of the text and as it develops seems to infuse the whole work with this single burning message.