Programme Notes:
Schumann's Fantasies
May 2021

In this program, I explore Schumann’s literary-inspired fantasy worlds through his Fantasiestücke, op. 12 (summer, 1837) and Kreisleriana, op. 16 (spring, 1838). Schumann’s formative years were steeped in the influences of literary activity; his father was a keen lover of German literature, author, publisher, and bookseller. Both these works were inspired by Hoffmann’s Fantasiestücke in Callots Manier (1830); while Fantasiestücke is grounded in the use of (brief) descriptive titles, Kreisleriana is void of descriptive titles, leaving only expressive markings in each of its movements, inviting new interpretative challenges, but also possibilities.

Fantasiestücke and Kreisleriana were composed at a time when Schumann grappled with mediating music’s growing autonomy as an artistic sphere, while reconciling his love of music and literature. These works lie between two polarities – that of the small-scale character pieces and larger-scale teleological structures, the latter of which grew to become a hallmark of Romantic formal architecture. Each of these works present series of vivid images that succeed one another; they at once consist of eight individual pieces that predominantly adhere to ternary structures, while also contributing to a larger overarching narrative that is only disclosed as the work unfolds in time over the course of its structural layout.

Fantasiestücke, op. 12

Des Abends [On an Evening] (sehr innig zu spielen) opens this set of fantasy pieces with an exploration of texture, melody, and resonance; set entirely at a piano dynamic, this setting of an evening is one that is inward and introspective. While its harmonic colours do less to unsettle the tranquillity than they create warmth, interest, and tension, the movement features a constant 3-against-2 cross-rhythm. Any hint of initial rhythmic dissonance is absorbed into the movement by its end, as both listener and performer are invited to partake in this dream.

Any warmth left behind by the resonating D♭ tonality is immediately shattered by the forte anacrusis with which Aufschwung [Soaring] (sehr rasch) begins. The lingering D♭ is used, here, as a dissonance to a harmony that seeks – but for a while, does not attain – resolution. Even while exhibiting greater lyricism, its inner sections are still very much in a state of nervous frenzy; its title, Aufschwung, barely begins to encapsulate the relentless drive and agitation characteristic to this movement.

Slow and tender (langsam und zart), Warum? [Why?] takes one back to a world of love and tenderness. The return to the familiarity and warmth of the opening D♭ tonality is accompanied by a series of small and circular melodic phrases; the upward trajectory at the end of each phrase brings about a beseeching quality of yearning. The transition into Grillen [Crickets] is yet again governed by harmonic proximity – a Leitton transformation and registral displacement removes the music far from the delicate wandering into a clumsy, humorous, rhythmically stilted movement which begins in F minor, but finishes back in D♭ major – the same key that had started Heft I.

Of In der Nacht [In the Night], Robert had written to Clara that it recounts the story of Hero and Leander, an old romantic legend, “When I play Die Nacht [sic] I can never forget this image: first he plunges into the sea – she cries out – he answers – he swims safely to shore through the waves – now the cantilenas as they embrace – then he must leave but cannot bear to part – until night again enshrouds everything in darkness. – To be sure, I imagine Hero to be exactly like you; and if you were sitting atop a lighthouse I, too, would probably learn how to swim.” While marked mit Leidenschaft (passion), its series of fragmented phrases over a moto perpetuo figuration lends it dark and intense undertones of desperation – one which carries through to the end of the movement, which never strays far from its F minor tonality.

The piano, improvisatory, vocally-inspired Langsam opening of Fabel [Fable] brings the listener back into the inner, more intimate realms of expression. Yet, the simplicity and earnestness of this material quickly gives way – twice – to Schnell episodes that are characterized by light-hearted jest. Set in C major, the Langsam that concludes this movement serves as a harmonic link between the earlier F minor, and the ensuing F major that will take the piece through its final two movements.

Traumes Wirren [Dream’s Confusion] begins äußerst lebhaft with a dazzling buoyancy that almost belies its occasional chromatic inflections. While it gains brief respite in its chorale-like D♭ major middle section, the movement is otherwise characterized by swirling sixteenths. The grounded stability of the final movement comes as a stark contrast to the forward-driving momentum of the previous. Ende vom Lied [End of Song], marked mit gutem Humor, brings about a sense of grandioso in serving as a culmination to the entire set of eight movements. Its ending (marked “Coda”) echoes the opening theme, and was described by Robert (to Clara) as follows: “everything ultimately […] dissolves into a merry wedding – but my distress for you came back at the end, and the wedding bells sound as if commingled with a death knell”. Although the work was dedicated to Anna Robena Laidlaw, and in spite of Clara and Robert’s estrangement, Clara was never far from Robert’s mind.

Kreisleriana, op. 16

Much like the Fantasiestücke, Kreisleriana is made up of contrasting movements; this cycle alternates between fast and slow, with the final fast movement breaking the otherwise alternating pattern. Kreisleriana is further grounded in harmonic tonal pairing. The major-minor polarity encapsulated by the tonal centres of G minor and its relative B♭ major are crucial in portraying contrasts in mood, Affekt, and characterisations of Hoffmann’s Kreisler – an “eccentric”, “wild”, and “witty” conductor – as the music swings between daredevil virtuosity and tender lyricism.

The stormy atmosphere of Äußerst bewegt stems from its metrical irregularities, rhythmic displacement between hands, and moto perpetuo drive that perpetually seeks (delayed) resolution. A brief respite to the initial anguish is offered in the middle section, which allows both hands to explore freedom, colour, and harmony with newfound sensuality.

Sehr innig und nicht zu rasch presents a heartfelt lyrical tune, first in the treble, but then passed through the various layers of its musical texture. The sense of dream-like freedom and timelessness is interjected by two contrasting Intermezzo sections, the first of which – marked sehr lebhaft – is brisk, bright, and contrapuntal in texture, and the second, a duet surging with passion. The final iteration of the opening lyricism – in exploring yet higher registers – brings the movement to an ethereal close.

A turn back to the minor sees Sehr aufgeregt teeming with nervous agitation. Its middle section, while defined by moments of lyrical tenderness and passion, remains unsettled and troubled; it never escapes from the darkness of the outer sections. Sehr langsam – a reverie whose lyricism is supported by luscious rich textures, then by the ebb and flow of constant sixteenths – remedies the earlier intensity, as it explores an array of colourful – and at times heart-breaking – harmonies. In doing away with the ternary structures characteristic of many of these movements, the re-statement of the opening material occurs but briefly, as a reminiscent, nostalgic echo of what had come before.

Sehr langsam ends suspended on a D major chord – a preparation for the ensuing G minor of Sehr lebhaft, whose dark, but scherzando-like qualities are juxtaposed against more lyrical, but distorted dance-like effects. In this movement (as with the entire of this set, although its structural significance is more prominent here), the adoption of the Erstdruck’s ending sees the movement suspended on a dominant. Contrasting the clipped tonal resolution of subsequent editions, this lingering suspense takes the music seamlessly into the dream-like state of Sehr langsam (#7) – a pensive, improvisatory movement that explores a kaleidoscope of harmonies.

Sehr rasch presents a sudden, brutal, shift in Affekt from the earlier tranquillity; its outer sections present assertive moto perpetuo figuration in forte, pushing the music forward with relentless force and drive. Its middle section is a fugato, reflecting Schumann’s intensive study of Bach during this time. Its coda is far removed from either the preceding or following material, with the shift to hymn-like, chordal textures lulling the penultimate movement to a slow, relaxed stop.

The final movement, Schnell und spielend, presents a rhythmic consistency that – when coupled with its largely piano and pianissimo dynamics – manifests as obsessive tinged with an intense darkness. A lyrical major interlude with the melody in the left hand offers a short-lived glimmer of (harmonic) lightness and hope. Schumann’s – or perhaps Kreisler’s? – final outburst, marked mit aller Kraft, is ridden with anger and agitation, while also accompanied by a sense of release. Whether this release proves sufficient resolution for the entire work, whose literal fading away draws to a close by simply diminishing to nothing, remains open to interpretation; Schumann, who was believed to have identified with Kreisler, certainly felt it fitting for the image of the Romantic genius to have faded away into obscurity.

Das Stück „Kreisleriana“ liebe ich am meisten von diesen Sachen. Der Titel ist nur von Deutschen zu verstehen. Kreisler ist eine von E. T. A. Hoffmann geschaffene Figur, ein exzentrischer, wilder, geistreicher Cappellmeister. Es wird Ihnen manches an ihm gefallen. Die Überschriften zu allern meinen Compositionen kommen mir immer erst, nachdem ich schon mit der Composition fertig bin.

Of these pieces (Kinderszenen, op. 15, Kreisleriana, op. 16, and Phantasie, op. 17), I like “Kriesleriana” the most. The title is only understood by Germans. Kreisler is a character created by E. T. A. Hoffmann: an eccentric, wild, and witty conductor. There is a lot that you will like about him. The titles of all my compositions only come to me after I have finished them.

—Robert Schumann, in a letter to Simonin de Sire, 15 March 1839, Vienna.