MODERN MELODISTS.
SCHUMANN.[199]
Robert Schumann was the true successor of Schubert. The impassioned admirer of him whom he designated as “the Prince of Melody,” Schumann, though not equalling his inimitable predecessor, succeeded nevertheless in winning for himself a lofty place among the masters of lyric music.
We say that Schumann has not equalled Schubert; but it must not thence be concluded that he is necessarily inferior to his rival each time that he treats an analogous subject. Schumann has perhaps rendered all the shades of human love with as much truth and depth as Schubert, but scarcely ever has he reached the dramatic power of “The Erl King” and “The Young Nun”; never has he found the brilliant coloring and light which shines out in “The Mariner,” “The Departure,” and “The Stars.” Thus Schumann’s Hidalgo is evidently the same cavalier as he of Schubert’s “Departure.” In Schubert he quits his German Fatherland and hurries forth to seek new pleasures. Schumann takes him into Spain: “Mine be fresh flow’rets rare,” he cries, “the hearts of ladies fair, and mine the combat fierce.” Alas! Quantum mutatus! The beauties of Spain bring small inspiration, and Schumann’s bolero resembles the joyous song of Schubert just as much as a military band of Madrid resembles an orchestra of Vienna.
In the same way, in dramatic situations, Schumann is not always well inspired. Instead of being simple, his thought is vulgar (as in “The Hostile Brothers” and “The Two Grenadiers”), or else, in larger works, his search for the dramatic accent gives a strained expression to his style and a wearisome obscurity to his intention. This, however, is not always the case. Who does not know the admirable “Funeral March” of his Quintette, assuredly the most beautiful of his symphonic works, and excelling all the musique de chambre of Schubert?
The overture to Manfred has many sombre beauties; but instead of following these lugubrious accents by a plaint more melodious, more human, and less infernal—instead of letting in a little light to make his “darkness” yet more “visible”—Schumann only quits the shadows to precipitate himself into utter blackness, and horror succeeds alarm.
We find, however, the true note of dramatic inspiration in the Lied “J’ai pardonné,” with its cry of love betrayed and of terrible malediction.
“J’ai vu ton âme en songe,
J’ai vu la nuit où sa douleur la plonge,
Et le remords à tes pas enchainé.