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Eloquence, reference, and significance in Clara Schumann’s Opus 20 and Johannes Brahms’ Opus 9 Smith, Stephen James 1994

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ELOQUENCE, REFERENCE, AND SIGNIFICANCEIN CLARA SCHUMANN’S OPUS 20AND JOHANNES BRAHMS’ OPUS 9BySTEPHEN JAMES SMITHB.A.M., Acadia University, 1987Mus. M. (Perf.), Royal Northern College of Music, 1989P.P.R.N.C.M. with distinction, 1990A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFDOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTSinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES(School of Music)We accept this thesis as conformingto the required standardTHE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIAAugust 1994C Stephen James SmithIn presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanceddegree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the library shall make itfreely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensivecopying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of mydepartment or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying orpublication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my writtenpermission.(Signature)Department of CThe University of British ColumbiaVancouver, CanadaDate Qct4’-’-- , )9.’4-DE-6 (2/88)SCHOOL OF MUSICRecital HallSunday, March 24, 19918:00 p.m.GRADUATE RECITAL *STEPHEN SMITH, PianoFantasy and FugLie in G minor Bach—LisztCarnaval, Op.9 R. Schumann(1810—1856)Préambul ePi errotArlequin — Valse nobleEusebiusFlorestan— Coquette - RépliquePapillonsLettres dansantesChiarina— Chopin — EstrellaReconnai ssancePantalon et ColombineValse Allemande/PaganiniAv euPromenadePause— Marche des Davidsbindler contre les Philistins- INTERMISSION —Four Fugues, Op.72 R. SchumannTwo Songs Schumann—LisztFrühl I ngsnachtLiebeslied (Widrnung)Fantasy and Fugue on B—A—C--H F. Liszt(1811—1886)* In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor ofMusical Arts degree in piano performance.TWflVERSlTY OF BRiTISH COLUMBIASCHOOL OF MUSICRecital Hall CSunday, February 9, 19922:30 p.m.GRADUATE STUDENT RECITAL*STEPHEN SMITH, pianowithGrace Edie, sopranoMark Ferris, violinStephen Robb, clarinetBrian Mix, celloChants de teffe et de ciel Olivier Messiaen(b. 1908)I. Bail avecMiII. Antienne dii silenceifi. Danse du b6bé-PiluleW. Arc-en-ciel d’innocenceV. Minuit pile et faceVI. ResurrectionINTERVALQuatuor pow la fin dii temps Olivier MessiaenI. Liturgie de cristalIL Vocalise, pour I’Ange que annonce la fin du tempsifi. Abfme des oiseauxIV. IntermMeV. Louange a i’éternité de JesusVI. Danse de la fureur, pour les sept trompettesVII. Fouillis d’arcs-cn-ciel, pour 1’Ange qui annonce la fin du tempsVifi. Louange a l’immortalité de J6sus* In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Musical Arts degree 6th a major inPiano Performance.THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIASCHOOL OF MUSICRecital HallSaturday May 28, 1994 C:8:00 p.m.DOCTORAL LECTURERECITAL*STEPHEN SMITH, pianoVariations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 20 Clara Schumann(1819-1896)Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 9 Johannes Brahms(1833-1897)* In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Musical Arts degree with a major inPiano Performance.THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIASCHOOL OF MUSICRecitaiHallThursday, September 22, 19948:00 p.m.THESIS RECITAL*STEPHEN SMITH, PianoSonata in F Major, Op. 54 Ludwig van Beethoven(1770-1827)Tempo d’un MenuettoAllegrettoSonata in Bb Major, Op. 106 Ludwig van BeethovenAllegroScherzo: assai vivaceAdagio sostenutoLargo -- Allegro aisoluto* In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Musical Arts degree with a major inPiano Performance.ABSTRACTClara Schumann’s op. 20 variations and Brahms’ op. 9 variations on the same themeare both intensely communicative works. This thesis seeks to discover their emotional contentby examining subtle musical and textual clues in the light of Robert Schumann’s aesthetictheory and practice, and with in-depth reference to biographical context. The author bringstogether many threads from pre-existing literature about these works and their composers inorder to trace the significance of the shared theme and to explore certain psychological issuessurrounding the composition of the two sets of variations. Special attention is given to thetightly-knit internal relationships and the many external references, whether deliberate orunconscious, which enrich the Brahms work.11TABLE OF CONTENTSABSTRACTINTRODUCTIONCHAPTER ONE: SCHUMANN AND MUSICAL MEANINGCHAPTER TWO: SCHUMANN’S OP. 99 NO. 4CHAPTER THREE: CLARA SCHUMANN’S OP. 20CHAPTER FOUR: GENERAL NOTES ON BRAHMS’ OP. 9CHAPTER FIVE: DETAILED REMARKS ON THE BRAHMSCONCLUSIONNOTESBIBLIOGRAPHYAPPENDIXVARIATIONS11131423364974758792111INTRODUCTIONThis document examines three nineteenth-century works for piano: a neglected set ofvariations by a magnificent composer, a magnificent set of variations by a neglected composer,and the subtly complex theme which underlies them both.The biographical context of these compositions is well known: the mutual adorationof Robert and Clara Schumann, the passionate intimacy of Clara and Johannes Brahms, theworshipful respect of Brahms for Robert, and Robert’s enthusiastic admiration of Brahms.Though of course it is wrong to assume that all composition is necessarily pure autobiography,I believe it can be shown that external circumstances did have significant impact on form,melody, character, and style in the pieces under consideration. In fact, these three pieces takentogether afford an excellent look at the range of possibilities for the interpenetration of lifeand music within the aesthetic realm inhabited by their composers.This aesthetic realm was defined primarily by Schumann, and it will be the goal ofChapter One to offer a clear idea of its boundaries, and then in Chapter Two to apply thatunderstanding to the analysis and interpretation of Schumann’s op. 99 no. 4, which becamethe theme for variations by Clara and later by Brahms. Chapter Three discusses Clara’seloquent set of 1853, a sensitive prolongation and heightening of the theme’s latent moods; andChapters Four and Five examine Brahms’ composition of the following year, a prodigiouscatalogue of musical relationships and references, pointing to an emotional core of great complexity.12Like much of Robert Schumann’s music, Clara’s op. 20 and Brahms’ op. 9 are poisedon the borderline between private expression and public utterance, between subjectivity andobjectivity. Thus it is incumbent upon the student of these works to seek out the points atwhich musical form and emotional content meet and fuse.Ludwig Finscher, writing in 1979 about German romantic music, deploredthe habit, even in current musicological practice, of avoiding theinterpretation of content by falling back on mere description ofform, with a concomitant relegation of questions of content tothe realm of the ineffable. Although the widespread timiditybefore the task of bringing into words the transmusical contentof large, structurally demanding works is all too understandableafter our experience with common program-booklet hermeneuticsand with the historically insufficiently grounded hermeneutics ofSchering [who posited Shakespearean programmes for Beethovenquartets, etc.], this timidity can scarcely be allowed to define theconsidered behaviour of a historian toward his object of study.’These sentiments are echoed in a recent New York Times article responding to SusanMcClary’s Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality. The author, K. Robert Schwarz,applauds McClary’s avoidance of “dehumanized formal analysis” and her willingness to “askhard questions about music’s meaning.”2 It is my hope that the following pages ask—andeven help to answer—some of those same questions.CHAPTER ONESCHUMANN AND MUSICAL MEAMNGThe issue of meaning in music was of great interest to Schumann and hiscontemporaries. Two very different streams of aesthetic thought in the mid-nineteenthcentury were given cogent expression by Eduard Hanslick and Richard Wagner. A third viewwas articulated by Schumann, though in a somewhat haphazard way, through his letters,diaries, and critical writings. An excellent article by Edward Lippman,1which goes some waytoward consolidating and clarifying Schumann’s scattered and paradoxical remarks on thesubject, is the principal source of the following sketch of Schumann’s aesthetic position.Schumann believed that music is informed by current events and physical surroundings,and by musical and literary experience, but not necessarily in a direct way. In his famousreview of the Symphoniefantastique he wrote,People err when they suppose that composers prepare pens andpaper with the deliberate predetermination of sketching, painting,expressing this or that. Yet we must not estimate outwardinfluences and impressions too lightly. Involuntarily an ideasometimes develops itself simultaneously with the musicalimagination.2Music transcends it causal influences, “but bears their imprint in its character.”3 The processof creation fuses musical and non-musical components in an indefinable way: external factors34affect the composer’s soul, and the moods of the soul or psychological states (Schumann callsthem Seelenzustãnde or Stimmungen) are then conveyed through his or her music.4Music that is “not representative of inner life and personality” is “mechanical andempty, completely devoid of value.”5 On the other hand, music which attempts merely todepict a scene or tell a story does not fulfill the true function of music, which is tocommunicate feeling. Schumann was aware of music’s ability “automatically to contain thenature and structure of particular happenings,”6although he never discussed the specific waysin which this happens; and he assigned great importance to the psychological reactions oflisteners.7Schumann’s delicately balanced position clearly echoes that of his (and later Brahms’)idol, E.T.A. Hoffmann, who acknowledged that “instrumental music possesses a certain meansto draw into its domain occurrences of the outside world,”8and claimed for music “the powerto portray emotional experiences,” yet believed that music should operate in an “unknownrealm” where “distinct feelings” are subsumed in an “inexpressible yearning.”9 Schumann’saesthetic credo also (not surprisingly) shows the influence of Jean Paul, who held that “artshould be the union of the particular and the general. It does not copy [but] must notannihilate theSome paradoxes remain. Lippman writes, “A knowledge of the particular experiencebearing on any composition is not in general an essential factor in the comprehension of themusic;”1’yet Schumann wrote to Clara in 1839, “You will only understand the ‘Phantasie’[op. 17] if you recall the unhappy summer of 1836, when I had to give you up. “12Also, Lippman writes that “imagination does not convert the material of life into musicin a demonstrable fashion, so that each circumstance produces a corresponding tonalexpression.”13 Yet Schumann praised Beethoven and Schubert for their ability to “translate5every circumstance of life into the language of Schumann writes in the same reviewof the “finer shades” of feeling which give great music its significance, and elsewhere of the“commonplace lyrical effusions” and absence of extramusical influence which make lesserworks unsatisfying.15Indeed, Lippman cites a dictionary article in which Schumann identifies musicalcharacter (the musical representation of “states of the soul”) with unequivocality of meaning:Character, musical, is possessed by a composition when adisposition expresses itself predominantly, or so obtrudes itselfthat no other interpretation is possible.’6This seems to contradict the position inherent in Schumann’s own journalistic practice of“polyphonic criticism” (Lippman’s term), where differing views of a work are juxtaposed asequally valid.’7 Lippman notes Schumann’s delight in “mysterious ambiguity of character”and asserts that “lack of definition” of musical content is central to Schumann’s concept ofRomanticism in music.’8Perhaps the apparent discrepancy here can be resolved by accepting that the characterof a piece can be particular, unmistakeable, and unique to that piece, yet ultimately impossibleto fix or define with a single image or verbal analogue. Ultimately, Schumann’s actualpractices as a composer and his candid admissions in private correspondence may reveal moreabout his view of extra-musical influence than his theoretical and critical writings.For example, in a letter of 1838, Schumann said, “My Clara will know how to find thereal meaning of [the Davidsbündlertãnze], for they are dedicated her in a quite special sense.”19In another letter to Clara, regarding Kreisleriana, we find: “You and one of your ideas are theprincipal subject.”2° The op. 17 Fantasie, he told his betrothed, is “one long wail over6you.”21 And in 1837 he went so far as to say, “I have but one thought to depict everywherein letters and chords—Clara.”Over the years, scholars have suggested that certain melodic shapes which occur againand again in Schumann’s music have some association with Clara. As long ago as the 1920’s,Erwin Bodky identified the pattern C-B-A-G($)-A as a “Clara theme.” Robert Schaufflerin 1945 and Paula and Walter Rehberg in 1954 pointed out a different motive—a descendingfive-note scale pattern. Schauffler believed this motive originated in the “Andantino de ClaraWieck,” the undiscovered and perhaps non-existent piece on which Schumann wrote variationsin his op. 14 sonata. For Schauffler, any five-note scalewise descent was potentially significant,regardless of the placement of the semitones within the pattern; and many of his so-called five-note motifs are in fact arbitrarily isolated from much longer scale passages.In 1964, Roger Fiske, writing about Schumann’s Davidsbñndlertãnze in the MusicalTimes, expressed his belief thata descending scale, whether of five notes or more, starting on mi(or having the tones and semitones placed as though it did), wasvery closely associated in Schumann’s mind with Clara, especiallyduring their [enforced] separation [of 1 83637].24Fiske tentatively traced the motive to a “Notturno” by Clara, from her op. 6 Soirees musicales,composed in 1835 or 36 (see ex. 1).x.I. .. j. J. j. J I J P—.p i - ii p p p I P I-...-.. -a—i—- I- ---1: I.. I• V r.n-r I Ii ri—.1 i IrrPi I. I I-0-r I II_ I Ir’ii’ r)Ir’lI![-I Li. I I Ii_ I I I 1SaLtj I I7A response to Fiske’s article by Nicholas Temperley correctly pointed out that apassage in Schumann’s eighth Novelette marked “Stimme aus der Ferne” (Voice from theDistance) is a virtual quotation of this “Notturno” theme of Clara’s. Since Clara was indeeddistant at the time the Noveletten were composed (March 1838), Temperley regards thisconnection as “a definite link between Clara and a descending five-note scale beginning onmi.”25Fiske also discovered a version of Bodky’s Clara theme, transposed to B minor and inretrograde, as a unifying idea in the Davidsbündlertãnze, and posited its origin in anothercomposition by Clara, “Scene fantastique: Le Ballet des Revenants” from op. 5 (composed in1835 or 36), where, interestingly, it is combined with the descending five-note motive (see ex.2).26L?(. 2.I r I rr rr r“We will return shortly to this second motive, but first, two other possible sources inClara’s early compositions for the descending figure should be mentioned. It appears in thefollowing form (see ex. 3) as the head motive of her Valses romantiques, op. 4, composedprobably in 1833:193 r fltr]X1SI‘4Schumann clearly alluded to this passage in the “Valse allemande” from Carnaval, imposinga new key signature on the original notesV (see ex. 4).I— IL I? I.c.,1 30 P P ‘I i i ii:2. JTh jflrtJ}’ •An even earlier source, suggested by Joan Chissell,28 might be Clara’s 1832 Capricesen forme de valse, op. 2 no. 7, the third section of which begins as in example 5.‘‘•[ I J J j J I, 0’IfPerhaps it was not any single one of these manifestations of the five falling minor scaledegrees which caused Schumann to attach significance to the pattern, but rather hisobservation of its frequent recurrence. If the figure already had a symbolic or associativemeaning for Clara, I have not discovered it. We have seen in the above examples fourprominent melodic appearances of the figure from four works composed by the young ClaraWieck over a period of four years. It may be thought insignificant that a figure so simple andapparently commonplace occurs with that degree of frequency. But one may search in vainfor those five notes in Schumann’s works from the same period (pre-1835). One or two similarideas flit about in his op. 3, but those melodies are of course Paganini’s.For an understanding of the significance of the other Clara motive mentioned above,we must look to a series of articles written by Eric Sams between 1965 and 197O? Thesearticles are in themselves works of art, in which Sams, simultaneously wearing the hats ofdetective, cryptographer, historian, music analyst, and philosopher, lucidly presents a hugeamount of mutually-corroborative data demonstrating that Schumann musically encipheredwords in many of his works, and delves into the aesthetic and psychological reasons behind8TJ j—.) r—9that practice. Like the music they describe, these essays are exquisite mind-games, cleverlystructured and laced through with word play and extraordinary metaphors. The followingsummary can only set forth a fraction of the evidence and insight that Sams provides.30For Schumann, as has often been remarked, music went hand in hand with literature.He inherited a literary inclination from his father, who was an author, translator, publisherand bookseller; and he left several unpublished novels and copious diaries in addition to thevery significant writing he did during a decade as editor of the Neue Zeitschrzft für Musik.Through musical criticism he brought his love of music into contact with his talent forwriting.31 He also brought a love of words to his composing: “Nearly all of Schumann’smusic,” writes Sams, “contains or derives from words, whether as texts, titles, programmes orepigraphs.”32In addition to the literary inspirations or connections of specific works, two booksseem to have influenced Schumann’s musical practice in a more fundamental and far-reachingway. One, on Schumann’s own testimony, is Jean Paul’s novel Die Flegeijabre. The other, onabundant circumstantial evidence, is Johann Klüber’s cipher manual, Kryptographik. Thesebooks were both published by the firm of Cotta in Tubingen in the first decade of thenineteenth century, and both of them deal, though in very different ways, with the notiOnsof mystery, symbolism, disguise, and transformation.From Flegeijabre come not only the twin personalities Walt and Vult with whomSchumann identified psychologically, but also the twin images of a chrysalis (Larve in German)and a masked ball (Larventanz). Each of these is a highly important romantic symbol initself—the masked ball evocative of illusion, duality, and uncertainty about identity;33 thechrysalis an “infinitely suggestive symbol whose complex significance includes the notion ofmetamorphosis and thus possesses an affinity with the significance of the masquerade.10These concepts fascinated Schumann and informed his music throughout his life. Thepossible impact of the masked ball image on music is easy enough to conceive (and to perceivein Schumann’s works, from the waltzing theme of op. 1 to the Ballszenen and Kinderball, opp.109 and 130); but the connection between music and larvae is perhaps less apparent. Samsexplains it this way: for Schumann, music could give words “new freedom by a change ofexistence from one mode to another, as a chrysalis changes into a butterfly.”35 Jean Paulhimself once likened butterflies to ideas—daytime ideas, specifically, while he calls nightthoughts “sphinxes” or moths.36 Regarding ideas, Schumann once wrote of his pleasure whenthey came to him “clothed in lovely melodies.”37 Here is where Klüber and his ciphers comein: this change of mode, this clothing in melody, can be effected by systematically substitutingnotes for letters. Renaissance composers had incorporated verbal messages into their works;Bach had composed his own name into his music; and beginning with his op. 1, Variations onthe Name Abegg, Schumann embarked upon a lifetime of exploring “what’s in a name,”musically speaking.Sometimes, as with op. 1, the name is spelled using only “musical” letters (A throughG, plus H which is B Li in German nomenclature, S (Es), which is ELI, and the combinationAS, which is A I,). This is the case in Carnaval (op. 9), the Six Fugues on BACH (op. 60), andin the “Nordic Song (Greeting to G)” in the Album for the Young (op. 68), in all of whichSchumann acknowledges the alphabetical nature of the themes.38However, it seems that Schumann experimented with a system of substitution cipherin order to make “unmusical” words yield melodies as well. Following suggestions in Klüber’smanual, he first used a twenty-four-letter alphabet (omitting Y and Z) in three lines, as shownin example 6.11—(I, Ici e...,J,r.991 cite; 4n6?ty“ A . cP F i-I.J ?L C P( f_ si_u V ‘v%J XSams finds traces of this cipher system in Papillons,39 and I believe the op. 4 Intermezzos andthe op. 7 Toccata also betray the use of this system in a precompositional way.4°From about 1834, when he fell in love with Clara, Schumann altered the top line ofthis grid to D H A B C E F G, which had the symbolic result of bringing Clara’s initial Calongside those of Eusebius and Florestan (Schumann’s alter egos).41 This change meant thatClara’s name would yield the basic shape shown in example 7, though the pitches could beinflected at will and the whole figure transposed.ex.7____________SC LA R iiNote that at the pitch shown, the musical letters of Clara’s name, C and A, still translatedirectly to the pitches C and A.Schumann used this motive frequently between the years 1834 and 1841: in songs like“Die Lotusblume” (op. 25 no. 7) and “Mit Myrthen und Rosen” (op. 24 no. 9), in theDavidsbündlertãnze and the op. 47 Piano Quartet, and culminating in the Fourth Symphony,which Schumann referred to as his “Clara symphony.”42Sams’ articles reveal encipherments of other names—Paganini, Mendelssohn, andSchumann’s brother Eduard, for example; and occasionally whole verbal phrases are embedded12in the musical ones. The sheer number of examples precludes any suspicion of merecoincidence. Nevertheless, Schumann biographer Peter Ostwald is dubious about the use ofciphers, because, first, no mention of the practice is found in Schumann’s diaries, and second,none of his contemporaries seemed to be aware of it.Even in the absence of specific references, however, Schumann’s diaries certainly reveala personality which would revel in the mystery, symbolism, and metamorphosis inherent ina musical cipher system. And as for the second point, Sams argues thatSchumann would not want [his use of ciphers] to be disclosedduring his lifetime. Composition in the romantic era came byinspiration; any suggestion of the intervention of the discursiveintelligence, especially by so contrived a process as encipherment,would have been universally condemned.43In any case, the ciphers were not primarily intended as a means of communication: Schumannclearly used them as a precompositional device—a way of creatively limiting his thematic andcompositional choices.The private nature of the ciphers was important to Schumann. Mystery was “a majorattraction for the Romanticist.”44 Schumann “liked mystification for its own sake, and didn’tmuch care if people saw through it or not.”45 The presence of unexplained elements helpsto give Schumann’s music its fantastic character and its singularity.46 We enjoy the fact that“the whole aesthetic surface fizzes and fumes with mystery and allusion.”47 Joan Chissellbrilliantly observes that the very nature of Schumann’s piano writing, the “remarkable amountof activity within his closely woven texture,” heightens “the impression of hugged innersecrets.”48Among recent writers, Clara’s biographer Nancy Reich concedes that ciphers arepresent in Schumann’s works,49 and Malcolm MacDonald also endorses the concept, saying:13The Romantic enthusiasm for symbolism stimulated afresh thepossibilities of musical ciphers, and no composer was morepassionately devoted to them than Schumann, whose love ofcodes and cryptograms found its way into the very structure ofhis music.50Anthony Newcomb includes ciphers in a discussion of how meaning arises inSchumann’s music.51 Newcomb also discusses the fact that this music “gains associativemeaning through allusion to, even veiled quotation of, other music” and through verbalreferences.52 He cites as an example the “rather complex ideas” conveyed by the use of theBACH motive in the finale of the Second Symphony, where it seems to constitute “a nod ofgratitude to the role of craft, exemplified by Bach, as a source of strength and health throughpersonal distancing.”53An observation by Peter Ostwald54 sheds further light on the importance of quotation.He speculates that Schumann’s desire, in adding a finale based on “Proud England Rejoice” toop. 13 before its belated publication in 1837, was to emotionally update the piece. Thequotation, together with the dedication to Sterndale Bennett, somewhat erases the work’s trueorigins in Schumann’s brief and, by 1837, embarrassing engagement to Ernestine von Fricken.Ostwald, himself a psychologist, has explored the notion that music can act as a socalled “transitional object” or “linking phenomenon.” We will have occasion to return tothese concepts, as well as to his views on musical works as gifts and as offspring, as we turnnow to the specific works in question.CHAPTER TWOSCHUMANN’S OP. 99 NO. 4Schumann assembled his op. 99 in 1852 from short pieces which for various reasons hadnever found their way into his previous publications. He called the collection Bunte Blãtter(Many-coloured Leaves), and subdivided the opus into “Three Little Pieces” (nos. 1-3), “FiveAlbum Leaves” (4-8), and a further six pieces with individual titles (9-14). The double titlescan be confusing: the little piece shown in example 8 is both no. 1 of the “Albumblätter” andno. 4 of the Bunte Blãtter.Ziemlich langsam.5—TT.& L [7 F L -9: c -. - -SILiL_!_— t.——.— I I ——- p p===-t--tzi-— F -J!t= rrJr ffT& [-..., .-Trt” —‘—i- —4b1•rr wW..a‘.rr._..- — —..-, -Vj’I.=--—12’ 2.1,4 Th 4 k ThJ—iI —c-dzm...1 •.--y J ,s- ;-9:•.1r—r ‘.. .jL1415The title “Albumblatt” suggests something of special personal significance, such asmight have been written in a nineteenth-century album as a memento. The related title BunteBlãtter, as well as pointing to the diverse origins of the pieces in the set and the absence of anycyclic intentions on Schumann’s part, may also punningly add the image of autumnleaves—their fragility, intricate detail, and melancholy implications.op. 99 no. 4 has been described as “simple and plaintive,” but in fact its apparentsimplicity conceals a wealth of subtle details. For example, there is the canonic implicationof its first phrase, with the soprano C s answered two bars later in the left hand. Also in theopening bars, the alto and tenor voices have a quasi-diminution of the rhythm of the outerparts (see ex. 9).x.9 -The faster rhythm is taken up by all four voices in the middle section of the piece.An especially pleasing feature is the arch structure created by the mirror symmetry ofthe two outer periods.2 The last eight bars seem at first glance to be merely a reharmonizedreiteration of the first eight, ending in the tonic instead of the mediant. However, on closerinspection, it appears that the two phrases which make up those eight-bar periods are reversedon their return, so that the cadence of bars 19-20 reflects that of bars 7-8, and the last four barsof the piece are almost exactly like the first four.The expressive intent of this subtle alteration is clear from Schumann’s interpretiveindications. The long legato phrase marks of the first period are absent at the end, as are thedynamic “hairpins.” The shorter phrases, combined with the “flat” piano and pianissimodynamic levels, confirm the sense of fragility, resignation, and inward-turning which is16inherent in the musical material (the broken diminished chord of bar 17, the painfuldissonance of bar 18, the drooping fourth of bar 20, and the final falling fifth).The middle eight bars of the piece are subdivided into two two-bar phrases and onefour-bar phrase, each of which ends on a different inversion of a C -minor chord. This canbe seen, along with other middleground events, in the following diagram, which also drawsattention to the hidden presence of a passacaglia-like formula in the opening and closing bars(see ex. 10).J<.Ioba.r-s: 1l1F L_L’r ‘j’i,1 t’That formula, the F a-B-C -F of bars 1-5 and 21-24, relates this piece to Schumann’sop. 5, Impromtus on a Theme by Clara Wieck, which begins as follows (ex. 11):tx. (11-I-IL1ll1H!-l--The piece continues by adding a melody by Clara to this bass line, and ten variations and afugue follow. The relationship of these two bass lines is most interesting in light of certainaspects of the Clara and Brahms variations to be discussed later on.3Another allusion—or at least resemblance—must be mentioned here. Denis Matthewscautiously points Out the “uncanny precedent” for Schumann’s bars 17-20 in the slowmovement of Beethoven’s C-minor violin sonata, op. 30 no. 2, bars 20-22 (see ex. 12).17I ‘I IRecalling the famous occasion when Brahms had to transpose this very sonata up a semitonein a performance with Remenyi, Matthews contents himself with speculating that Brahrnsmust have experienced déjà vu when playing Schumann’s Albumblatt. But a deliberate allusionis not out of the question: the openings of the two pieces are also very similar. Schumannhad a “very active musical memory,”5and his reviews in the Neue Zeitsclrnft für Musik oftendraw attention to reminiscences of Beethoven in the works of his contemporaries.6Regardinghis own op. 10, he wrote:while I was working on number 4, the funeral march fromBeethoven’s Eroica symphony hovered before me. Perhaps thelistener could hear this for himself.7Clara once pointed out a Beethoven “theft” in an unpublished B L-major sonatamovement by Schumann. Apparently it was an unintentional quotation, but he wrote toClara that he was looking forward to being shown it: “I must say that I’m pleased when Idiscover anything like that in my compositions.”8One wonders if Clara was practising the Beethoven violin sonata at the time Schumanncomposed his miniature in 1841. One wonders too if the metrical organization of theBeethoven (see ex. 13) might have been in Schumann’s mind.IyI18__If so, the 2/4 time signature he chose was not as clear as Beethoven’s way of indicating theupbeat nature of the first two quarter notes. But Schumann does show a crescendo throughthose first two beats to the downbeat of bar 2, after which bar 3 is dynamically unstressed.Perhaps Beethoven’s “slow-motion gavotte” notation seemed unrepeatable to Schumann; orperhaps he preferred the ambiguity of his own notation.There would appear to be no other correspondences between these two works:Beethoven’s is major, Schumann’s is minor; Beethoven’s is leisurely and expansive, Schumann’sis compact and terse. Indeed there is a repressed quality to Schumann’s piece, particularly inthe way the melody in the middle section twice comes up against a high G. Example 14shows this G in the context of the melodic middleground.J -- 1Tha-—‘TK_.. r J J 117 2.!The descending impulses of the first two phrases having only succeeded in reaching A, thenext section displaces the G that should follow by an octave, and initiates the motion thatfinally reaches F in the last bar of the piece.’°This descent from C to F is of course, as Joan Chissell recognized, the “motto sooften used by Schumann to enshrine [Clara’s] image.”11 Bars 14-16 and the last four bars arethe motive pure and simple, in C minor and F minor respectively. The opening barsxs)pustq;oputtjipjuipuno;flainoUtuuEiurnpS 11jpdspS119p‘uonTppninqimqAEWjsnTqsnpuEuisaiojjio;puflssaouo&isqiitp‘ixuoc,suput(pjij£pjTtjsiijunpjpu‘psodo.idstJpssupjutofSJuupouJo3STSUODUTJOJEI.pJOstqXISISJTJp—Sd.ItITSputsth&jsjt(qpurndpun 1,°jqtp(Apomppoz-zipu8-cs.x)[rrrI’J V‘jV7•xas)ureu.iqsjpdspuotp‘tupTEJD.IatpoS‘ain;UTJJ;1!T!EJpppq’‘p!1’°‘66dojoine;AOUy——•_.—_.rr—rrrr.-4-rI’‘-I’I’•I’--A14 1./Il_I....I4-I_LII-i—.r-—-II—r-,-I-1 J.I:i_-.1LL.LLJI-‘-.-‘--9-r1.L.--r.—,.1I•-i--••iA-—‘-.—JI‘UJ5/•X;paiitjLutjsiputwtpLtppiopstpoqsarttjsDid.iawjpq2!‘(cixgas)11P!tTDpouuutpu’ips.iosinidsnolAqosouijjputsjdtutxas)ueJDsup;ossnsnoiiaidDU!dso2ujqmsaiaTputtju(z-iz‘z-isiq)stDptadiJ13flJ1paiouqpjnotjsII‘1A1OtJ‘’qsUSqTT!T{DqJOJUOSt1J2‘TUOI{1011flO1Uvo.rnoipw°‘AflOuJpjouuiisitpouuiiuo6120x. 7HA C. E FEi J K L M No pRS -I- LI YW ?<Sc H c’r4 j 1qJpp _ 0r I rOne may well ask what, if anything, these ciphers might mean to a performer orlistener. I would suggest that, first of all, the presence of an enciphered name lends intimacyand import to what is being “said,” just as naming a person to whom one is speaking addsimpact and directness. Awareness of a personal greeting or address of this sort can subtlyinfluence the range of interpretive possibilities. In this case, the presence of Clara’s name tellsus that the piece is not, for example, a funeral march—though that would be a plausibleenough inference from the pervasive dotted rhythm, the tolling C s, and the stately chordalstyle. 13 But then, there are also purely musical safeguards against a too-rigid, funerealinterpretation: the grace notes of bars 3, 7, and 17; and the many crescendi and diminuendi.Comparison with other uses of the same cipher motive may contribute shades ofmeaning. If Brahms and Clara were indeed aware of the hidden names in this piece (whichwould help to explain why they both chose it for variations), they may also have been alive21to subtleties in the use of the Clara cipher motive such as the occurrence of the major form(C rather than C ) within a minor key.However, in general, a cipher theme is not an idêefixe: musical developments of thetheme do not necessarily carry narrative meaning. Though F and E t may allude toSchumann at the outset of the piece, the absence of these notes in bars 7-20 need notsymbolize Schumann’s absence.More important to the psychological unfolding of this piece is the constant vacillationbetween A and G, which suggests a feeling of futility. These two notes appear first in thetenor (bars 1-2), and then through voice exchange they move to the soprano in bars 3 and 4.This pattern is repeated in the next four-bar phrase. The A-Ga then moves to the bass, andas example 18 indicates,the middleground motion is a kind of augmentation of the foreground. Then follow the onlybars in which this alternation desists (17-18). The next five bars resume the voice exchangebetween soprano and tenor, until the soprano G of bar 23 falls to F instead of rising to A.The meaning of Schumann’s op. 99 no. 4 does not primarily consist in the fact that itsymbolizes Clara or Robert Schumann. Schumann’s imaginative extrapolation of the basicmaterial results in a musical design that can be understood and appreciated without anybackground knowledge. The first cadence, with the third (A) on top, hints at the optimisticA-major cadence of the second phrase. In the middle section the A-major chord is repeatedly22contradicted by C minor, the final contradiction involving a five-note descent from G toC which foreshadows the way the piece will end. The phrase with the A-major cadencereturns, but the piece ends with a phrase which falls sadly but purposefully past the A to F.As short as it is, this tiny work still lives up to Schumann’s concept of musical value:it does not paint a picture or tell a story, but it does depict states of the soul, and indeed suchfinely differentiated states that finding verbal equivalents is difficult. It seems to move froma precarious hope through frustrated yearning to a state of resignation—but an inconclusive,not a despairing, resignation.The element of inconclusiveness, a result of the extreme brevity of the piece and thepsychological complexity compressed within it, makes it ideally suitable for variations; andinterestingly, the two composers who knew Schumann best decided to employ his piece inexactly that way, within a year of each other, and amidst circumstances of great emotionalintensity.CHAPTER THREECLARA SCHUMANN’S OP. 20On May 29, 1853, Clara Schumann noted in her diary,Today I . . . began . . . for the first time in years to composeagain. . . . I want to write variations on a theme of Robert’s, outof Bunte Blãtter, for his birthday. But I find it very difficult—thebreak has been too long.1The negative feelings associated with the composition of this piece are not unique: AnnaBurton, in a psychoanalytical study of Clara Schumann, comments that “expressions ofuncertainty, and even a consuming self-dissatisfaction” are commonly associated with the actof composing in her letters and diaries.2 For example, at age nineteen she wrote to Robert:I always comfort myself with the thought that I am a womanafter all, and they are not born to compose.3And at twenty, she wrote:I once thought that I possessed creative talent, but I have givenup this idea: a woman must not desire to compose. Not one hasbeen able to do it, and why should I expect to? It would bearrogance, though indeed my father led me into it in earlierdays.42324Years later, after an evening the Schumanns spent listening to Mendelssohn performinghis own music, Clara confided to her diary:Robert’s eyes radiate joy, and it is very painful for me to have tofeel I can never offer Robert anything like that.5When she presented him with his birthday variations in 1853 (which she wrote in only sixdays, be it noted6), it was with a self-deprecating dedication:For my dear husband, for June 8, 1853, a weak attempt oncemore on the part of his Clara of old.7Yet despite this deep insecurity about her talents as a composer, she could write of herSix Songs, op. 23:[They] have given me many happy hours. There is nothingwhich surpasses the joy of creation, if only because through itone wins hours of self-forgetfulness, when one lives in a world ofsound.8The ability to escape to this world of sound, whether by composing or playing, was essentialto Clara. In a letter written to Joseph Joachim in September 1854, when Robert was livingOut his last months in an asylum, she prayed for “strength to endure the terrible agitations”of her situation, and said, “My old friend, my piano, must help me in this.” She says whata “splendid thing” it is to be able to turn her suffering into “divine music,” and then adds,typically, “How much better you must know [this] than I, since you can create!”9In this connection, it is extremely interesting to know that Clara “wrote notes andunderstood rhythm before reading and writing”10— hat she did not speak even single words,and gave no evidence of language comprehension, until she was four and a half. Inhibitions25about speaking and a strong sense of the inadequacy of words persisted throughout Clara’s life,according to Anna Burton’s study of her letters and diaries.11Psychologists have observed a connection between arrested development of speech andemotional unavailability of the mother during the crucial twenty-second to twenty-fifthmonths.’2 Clara’s mother, a concert pianist herself, was particularly heavily burdened duringthat period in her daughter’s life, producing a baby in August 1821, and performing two pianoconcertos in October of the same year. Burton suggests that music replaced language as achannel of communication during this time; that Clara identified music with her mother,whose practising she constantly heard; and that her derivation of “psychological nurturancefrom her languagelike comprehension of musical ideas and feelings” during her first two yearsled to a “lifelong need for music.”’3A “languagelike comprehension” of music and a reliance on music for “psychologicalnurturance” were two things which Clara shared with It was music whichinitially brought them into contact and which cemented their relationship from the beginning.According to one of Clara’s biographers,During the years 1830-1836, the two young musicians wereworking and playing in such close proximity that it is oftendifficult to determine the origin of many musical ideas theyshared. 15And a Schumann biographer writes,This process of musical exchange seems to have delighted themboth. [It allowed them to] engage in endless flirtation and teasingover their musical “offspring.”626One piece from this period with a rather complicated lineage is Schumann’s “firstmusical homage to Clara,”17 the op. 5 Impromptus on a Theme by Clara Wieck. The themereferred to in the title had been used by Clara in her op. 3 Romance vane (sic), written in 1831and published in 1833 with a dedication to Schumann (making it Clara’s first musical homageto him). But the basis of this theme, in turn, was a four-bar fragment which had been jotteddown by Schumann in September 1830, just before he came to Leipzig to study with Clara’sfather.’8 The frequent occurrences, discussed in Chapter One, of a descending five-notemotive are further evidence of the creative cross-fertilization that took place during Clara andRobert’s courtship.The musical offspring became fewer after 1840, when the couple were producing humanoffspring—although Schumann still occasionally dedicated a work to his wife, and Clara ofcourse continued to perform Robert’s works regularly. Rarely after 1841 does Schumann usea “Clara-theme.” His whole musical outlook became somewhat more objectified after thattime, and its personal content decreased.’9 In choosing to vary a theme by her husband in1853, Clara was thus harking back to the musical sharing of the early years of theirrelationship. And to judge by the theme she chose, this reminiscence was more than a littletinged with sadness.In general, the op. 20 variations stay close to their theme, decorating it chromatically,occasionally altering the harmonies, and only once extending a phrase beyond its originallength. Analytical interest therefore centres on the harmonic and rhythmic foreground.Semitone dissonance is a feature of Clara’s style in any case, but especially so in thispiece, as a result of her exploration of the lower neighbour-notes which are so prominent inthe theme (F-E-F, A-Gd-A, and C-B-C). Already in the third bar of variation 1, theleft hand figuration is grinding against the right hand chords (ex. 19).27Ii,.ec -i. -r---- —— I I I —3The convoluted nature of the chromaticism (which gives the impression of intense engagementwith a difficult problem) is well exemplified by bar 42 in the same variation,20 where threedissonant notes on the downbeat all resolve separately (ex. 20).3.Jy1LvjJ:.— I —.11 —e-xl9- •1 --9--‘‘—11\ jOf the 208 sixteenth-note chords in variation 2, fifty-eight (more than a quarter) containsemitone dissonance. The otherwise anomalous grace-note before the very first chord isexplained by Clara’s desire for maximum chromatic colouration.This same goal is operative in the richly-hued third variation with its bass line windingupwards from the depths of the keyboard, hovering, and eventually subsiding. The sensuousfeel of F major noted by Hugh Macdonald in a recent article21 has seldom been betterexploited than by this variation, with its widely-spaced chords and its mesh of double sharps.There is an extraordinary rhythmic and harmonic 11knot” in bars 94-95 composed ofsyncopation, two-against-three, and every imaginable kind of non-chord tone (see ex. 21).28€X. 11, r) .iTf ,J .Li 4rChromatically-descending scales in powerful double octaves are a feature of variation5, and the canonic variation 6 includes a heart-stopping half-diminished seventh chord witha double appoggiatura (b. 169—see cx. 22).x.22._________The figuration in variation 7 is entirely based on upper and lower neighbours; the thirty-second notes entwine themselves like tendrils around the theme. Following the seventhvariation is a finale which will be discussed shortly.There is a rhythmic scheme underlying the progress of the variations as a whole.Except for numbers 3 and 6, which provide moments of repose, the variations all employcontinuous motion of some kind. In variation 1, a few dotted figures and the occasional twoagainst-three alleviate the basic triplet motion. Variation 2 is a toccata in sixteenth notes. Therhythmic accelerando continues with the triplet sixteenths of variation 4. Variation 5 revertsto ordinary- sixteenths, but variation 7 completes the progression with thirty-second notes (seecx. 23). This design gives a feeling of increasing fluency and freedom of expression.293 3rrr-r’r1LTrflvar. I va.. 2 Vcr. * Var. 7As mentioned above, the outline of the theme is always strongly projected underneaththe considerable surface activity of these variations. It is interesting that, while Clara’sfiguration extends to both extremes of the keyboard (C 1 and F 7 are both used), she doesnot in general allow the melodic intervals of the theme to expand; even the suppressed climaxof the theme’s middle section remains suppressed in all but one variation. Only in variation3 does the melody stretch its boundary, and then only by a semitone, and with the greatestdifficulty, conveyed by the grating dissonance at the point of expansion (see ex. 24).Indeed, the gesture seems to sap the energy of the variation completely—the next six bars canonly slide helplessly downward; but the result in the final phrase is clearly an attainment ofpeace.Because of the uniqueness of variation 3, the composer chose to reprise it in a finale.At the end of variation 7, the piece suddenly breaks free of the theme and turns to the majormode (b. 194). There is a rapid build-up over a dominant pedal to a cadenza-like diminishedchord flourish; at this point in Clara’s original version (preserved in manuscript copies madefor Schumann in June 1853 and Brahms in July 1854), variation 3 returns, giving the listener30a second chance to experience its exquisite tension and release. Next, by way of a coda, thereis a chromatic descent filling out the thematic interval of a fifth over an F pedal (bars 226-30),and then a plagal extension utilizing the minor subdominant (23 1-34). A final chromaticcurlicue (234-35) and two wispy chords complete the piece.However, when Brahms studied this work in the summer of 1854, in the course ofwriting his own variations on the same theme, he noticed that it was possible to combine thebeautiful third variation with another melody of great significance—the melody whosecomplex lineage was traced at the beginning of this chapter—the theme of Clara’s first musicalhomage to Schumann and of his first homage to her (see ex. 25).ae.x..2-5_____________ _________ _______ __________II — I ‘L ‘‘ -‘r- I,hi--1_.11 0:L I41 r r r -r rj. o.j’ars 202— lo((k r1:7.1 .1 P IV I-j-’-—1 -. I.rrBrahms communicated this discovery to Clara, who was delighted and incorporated theallusion into the finale before her variations were published. On September 14, Clara’s diarynoted,31Proof of my Variations from Härtel. Brahms has had a splendididea, a surprise for you, my Robert. He has interwoven my oldtheme with yours—already I can see you smile.Notice that Clara refers to the Romance melody as “her” theme and the Albumblattmelody as Robert’s, even though both themes are very much “joint property.” Clara’s wordsimply that she thought of the passage in its final form as essentially a duet between thesoprano, which carries Schumann’s theme, and the innere Stimme containing her own. Thenotion of a duet amply justifies the canonic imitation which she introduces at bar 210 whenthe quotation has run its course.The somewhat naïve melody which Clara calls “my old theme” must have recalled thecircumstances of her life when it was written, some twenty years previous. Its poignancy inthis context is partly the result of its transposition from the simplest of keys (the original Cmajor) to the most complex and tonally remote key, F major. Schumann himself was“reluctant to admit the romantic quality” of F major, but he did once say that “simplefeelings require simple keys; complicated ones require those that rarely meet the ear.“ Ifthere were any doubt that complicated feelings are being expressed here, one would only needto note the extraordinary dissonances created by the weaving of this quotation into the alreadyhigh chromatic texture. The profusion and pungency of the appoggiaturas here is morecharacteristic of Clara than of Brahms, so the passage seems at home in her composition.The inclusion of this quotation strengthens the link between Clara’s variations and thelater Brahms set; symbolically, it also strengthens the link between the two composers. Byadopting Brahms’ suggestion, Clara may have been symbolizing her willingness to admitBrahms in some way into the holy union between herself and Robert. But Brahms’contribution was not symbolic of himself (as a quotation from one of his own works would32have been); rather he offered Clara a reflection of herself and of Robert to incorporate intoher work. In terms of their actual relationship, it was this reflective aspect of Brahms towhich Clara was attracted, as the following extracts from her diary testify:[May 27, 1854] Brahms is always the person with whom I mostlike to talk of Robert. . . . [August 1854] I cannot but thankheaven for sending me such a friend in my great sorrow; onewho raises my whole mind, who reveres my dearly lovedhusband with me, and suffers with me.24With Brahms she was able to have the kind of intellectual intercourse she had onceshared with Schumann. And furthermore, Brahms helped her to recapture something of herown lost youth:[May 9, 1855] [Johannes] was very merry . . . so that I tooseemed to grow younger, for he whirled me along with him.[July 1855] He draws in great breaths of nature, and one growsyoung with him.25Despite all the layers of personal significance which Brahms’ quotation brings to Clara’spiece, the quotation does have a degree of objective musical effect. Portentous musical gesturesdraw the listener’s attention to its presence (bars 194-201); and if the performer uses whatBrahms called his “tenor thumb,” the quotation will easily be heard and experienced asmeaningful. To a listener who is acquainted with Schumann’s op. 5 or Clara’s op. 3 (and aperformer could easily programme one of those works with Clara’s variations), the significanceof the quotation is its familiarity in another context; but to the uninitiated, its significance issimply its unfamiliarity in the present context. The altered reprise of variation 3 is in fact aperfect example of what Robert Hatten calls a “marked form”: music heard before returns,33superimposed by something unfamiliar (which in this case creates radically newharmonies—indeed dissonances).26It is tempting to find in bar 201 of the finale another allusion—namely, to Schumann’sRomance, op. 28 no. 2, bar 30 (see ex. 26).Sc1vvicnv, . Cfw,bqr2O1______-V- a. ..____-• —1i I 1 1- —(*L_________________I L.There would be a certain fitness in introducing one Romance quotation with another; andgiven that Schumann’s op. 28 no. 2 is one of his very rare excursions into the key in whichClara found herself, the appropriation of this little characteristic cadential figure seems apt.Clara’s avowed love for the piece would seem to clinch the argument: she wrote in 1840,L-,ILH’!L!)1%n2—--I?r-I iEZ,-—-I lay claim to the Romances: you absolutely must dedicatesomething more to me as your betrothed, and I know of nothingmore tender than these three Romances, especially the middleone, which is the most beautiful love duet. Ah! Robert, youcannot escape, I will not give up the Romances.27However, we need only go back a few more bars in this finale to find an instructiveexample of an apparent quotation which was certainly unintended. At the beginning ofClara’s coda is a chord progression (major-augmented-minor-diminished) which is reminiscentof Liszt generally and of a moment in his B-minor Sonata in particular. The match betweenClara’s bars 194-95 and Liszt’s bar 433 is unbelievably close, even to the espressivo designationand the structural placement at the beginning of the coda (see ex. 27). Furthermore, the Lisztsonata was dedicated to Schumann.34lirs”* ‘_, dl S _-, J’ d‘ A 44’ — I I r— I -Ai. ZIfZtCrYet Clara never set eyes on Liszt’s B-minor sonata until May 25, 1854—a year after she wroteher variations. On that day, the newly-published sonata arrived at the Schumann household,and Brahms (who had fallen asleep when he heard Liszt himself play the work frommanuscript the previous year28) played it through for Clara. Perhaps Brahms’ sight-readingdid not do the piece justice: Clara called it “gruesome,”merely a blind noise—no healthy ideas any more, everythingconfused; one cannot find a single clear harmonic progression.It really is too awful.29Critical response to Clara’s Variations has never been quite so harsh, though PamelaSusskind finds the work “nondescript” and “unpolished.”30 But Chissell remarks that whileit betrays Clara’s “allegiance to the . . . decorative virtuoso tradition,” the figuration is“imaginatively pianistic, never mere mechanical patterning. “31 And James Sykes, in notesmade for his recording of the work, describes it as “an exploration of piano colouration,x. 27r r—D35resonance, and Volubilitãt.32 Liner notes for other recordings call op. 20 Clara’s “mostambitious solo piano work”33 and “doubtlessly [her] more important and mature work forpiano, . . . full of variety and atmospheric density.”34 Perhaps most importantly, the piecegave Robert Schumann, for whom primarily it was written, “much delight.”35The core of meaning for the whole work seems to be contained in the third variationand its altered reprise. The other variations, virtuosic and inventive though they are, merelyprovide a context for the enunciation of that meaning. An observation by David Lidov seemsappropriate with reference to the decorative nature of much of Clara’s op. 20.Ornamentation, he writes, isa sign of eloquence of expression. It represents the freedom ofthe melodic line to give voice to the passions which motivateit.36Despite her verbal inhibitions, then, Clara could wax eloquent in her music; her melodiescould express what words could not.CHAPTER FOURGENERAL NOTES ON BRAHMS’ OP. 9There have been a number of brief studies of Brahms’ op. 9 in recent years, notablythose by Floros and Danuser in German, and by Neighbour, Sisman, Ostwald, and Cummingsin English (see Bibliography). Several complementary perspectives on the work emerge fromthese studies. The piece is seen as:1. A homage to Schumann and an outgrowth of Brahms’ intensive study of his works2. A response to Clara’s op. 20 and a gift of consolation and love for her3. A musical link between the separated Schumann couple4. An expression of Brahms’ identification with a literary figure, and5. A synthesis of variation traditions (and specifically also a response to the “Beethovenchallenge”).The piece is also a contrapuntal treatise, an essay intended to justify Schumann’s prophetic“New Paths” declaration, a symbolic liberation of Schumann, and an expression of grief at hisdecline. These various facets deserve some comment before the individual variations areexamined in detail.The threefold relationship among Brahms and the Schumanns blossomed rapidly aftertheir first meeting on September 30, 1853. Robert took “great pleasure” in Brahms, “both asa man and an artist,” and he wrote a famous article for the Neue Zeitschrzft für Musik called3637“Neue Bahnen” (New Paths), in which he praised Brahms in extravagant terms and predictedthat the future of music lay with this twenty-year-old genius.2Only five months later, Brahms read in a newspaper of Schumann’s suicide attempt andrushed back to Düsseldorf, where he arrived on March 3. Clara’s diary records, “He said hehad only come to comfort me with music, if I had any wish for it.”3 The next day,Schumann was taken to an asylum in Endenich, from which he was never to return.Brahms “virtually sacrificed the next two years of his life” for the Schumanns.4 Hehelped take care of the children, kept the household accounts, and visited Robert in hospital(Clara was forbidden by the doctors to see him); meanwhile he composed and eked out ameagre existence by giving lessons and borrowing from friends. On April 10, 1854, Clarawrote:That good Brahms always shows himself a most sympatheticfriend. He does not say much, but one can see in his face, in hisspeaking eye, how he grieves with me for the loved one whomhe so highly reveres. Besides, he is so kind in seizing everyopportunity of cheering me by means of anything musical.5As one Brahms biographer has put it, “Brahms clearly felt himself fulfilled and invigorated byhis double duties as a creative artist and guardian angel to the stricken Schumann family.”6On May 24, Clara, who was then almost nine months pregnant, played her op. 20 forBrahms and a few other friends. The situation is charged with powerful emotion: Clara wasperforming variations which she had, as it were, “conceived” with the germ of Robert’s theme,while their unborn child listened from her womb. Not surprisingly, the performance madeClara “terribly sad.” She wrote,38It is just a year since they were composed, and I was so happythinking of surprising him with them. This year I must spendhis birthday alone, and he will not even know the day.7A few days later, after a walk in the Eller woods (which she had first visited the yearbefore with Robert), Clara wrote, “[Brahms] is remarkable. . . . One learns to. . . love himmore and more.”8 Brahms, for his part, was beginning to realize that his feeling for Clara wasmore than compassion. It was not long before he would confide in a letter to his friendJoachim,I often have to restrain myself forcibly from just quietly puttingmy arm around her and even—I don’t know, it seems to me sonatural that she could not misunderstand.9It was at this time that Brahms undertook to write his own variations on Schumann’sAlbumblatt, op. 99 no. 4. Originally, the variations were fourteen in number; and with thetitle “Little Variations on a Theme by Him, dedicated to Her,” Brahms presented them onJune 15, 1854, to Clara,1°who was just recuperating from the birth of her son Felix.Although of course Brahms was well-intentioned, the act of composing variations ona theme already used by Clara, especially one so significant to her, had an element ofthoughtlessness: it could have been seen as an arrogant attempt to prove his superiority(especially given Clara’s feelings of inadequacy as a composer), or as an unwelcome intrusioninto very private territory. As Joachim wrote around this time,Brahms is egoism incarnate, without himself being aware of it.He bubbles over in his cheery way with exuberantthoughtlessness.1139But there is no indication that this clumsiness of Brahms was felt as such by Clara, in this caseat least. On June 18 she dispatched a note to Brahms, who was living nearby, in which shesaid:Your delicate attention has given me very great pleasure. Icannot tell you what I felt when I read the dedication. But youknow already when you were writing it ... [The piece] is genuineBrahms, and I know you to be both serious and humorous.12In her diary that same day, she wrote:[Brahms] sought to comfort me; he composed variations on thatwonderfully heartfelt theme that means so much to me, just aslast year when I composed variations for my beloved Robert, andmoved me deeply through his sweet concern.’3A mutual friend of Clara and Brahms, Julius Grimm, perceptively christened the work“Trost-Einsamkeit” (Consolation in Loneliness).’4 It is this therapeutic aspect which attractsPeter Ostwald. He notes that op. 9 “symbolizes effectively and in musical language Brahms’special position as a mediator between Clara and her alienated husband,’5 and he employsterms from psychological literature to describe the music’s soothing, healing function. Forpsychologists, “transitional objects” and “linking phenomena” denote “tangible physical items”which carry personal meanings and “are capable of temporarily allaying the anxieties producedby separation from a true love object.” When an art object functions this way it can be“valuable not only for individuals but for entire cultures.”’6 We will have occasion to returnto this last point shortly.Brahms sent a copy of his new work to Joachim, who responded on June 27 as follows:Dearest Johannes, how every note of your Variations gladdenedme; how I sunned myself in the wealth of feeling and intellect40contained in them! . . . I place [them] side by side with thedeepest and most beautiful works, not even excepting myfavourite. I have not mentioned his name for fear of startlingyou, but he lived at the beginning of this century. Eachvariation is a little temple to the glory- of the spirit concealed inthe subject. And however varied their architecture may be, thisspirit breathes the same love through them all.17Joachim hits upon several significant factors in this letter: he notes the combinationof feeling and intellect, teasingly refers to Beethoven, speaks of the variations as “little temples”(suggesting the homage they pay to Schumann), uses the apt word “architecture” (implyingthat the variations relate to one another in a carefully structured way), and finally remarksthat love seems to be communicated through the whole set.Joachim’s evocation of Beethoven was echoed by Clara on July 30 after Brahms playedhis variations for her. Her diary records, “Today I was more struck by them than everbefore—the spirit of Beethoven breathes through them all.”18 In addition to several possibleallusions to Beethoven in op. 9, which are listed in table 1, there is a Beethovenian freedomand thoroughness in the work. Yet there are differences too: for example, Brahms’ variationsare “a very personal message: no solace here for all mankind as in the variations ofBeethoven’s op. 19 Nor is there the discrepancy between theme and variations that wefind in the Diabelli set: Brahms’ variations and Schumann’s theme speak from the sameplace. 20In the month following the composition of the Schumann-Variations, Brahms hadrequested and received a manuscript copy of Clara’s op. 20 (as it was to become), and hadcontinued to ruminate about the two sets of variations. This bore fruit in August, when heproduced two new variations (10 and 11 of the final version). Their insertion corrected a tonal41imbalance which Brahms no doubt perceived21 and created a very interesting overall keyscheme (see ex. 28)22°Vax-s: jO II 12-”!- i5-q(,.b ) -j4t—interesting because of its relationship to the bass line of the theme (see ex. 29).e-x. 24 ivi I ,! J. J)l GisWhen Brahms wrote to Joachim about his additions, however, he made no mentionof key schemes, but told his friend excitedly that in one of them, “Clara speaks! “s—meaningthat he had contrived to work into his tenth variation a fragment of her Romance Vane, justas he suggested Clara should do in her op. 20 finale.Brahms’ two new variations bear the significant date of August 12, which was Clara’snameday;24 they also have the inscription, “Roses and heliotrope have bloomed. “25 Theimportance of this phrase is open to question, but at the very least it is indicative of thepeculiar nature of Brahms’ art that, as Karl Geiringer says, such a purely romantic notion asblooming flowers should be attached to “a creation of the strictest structural perfection.”26Variation 10 with its canons, inversions, and diminutions was clearly not intended as anacademic exercise, but as an intensely expressive gesture.42What, specifically, it expresses may be partly revealed by the allusion to the languageof flowers. As everyone knows, the rose is symbolic of love. Heliotrope may not be asubiquitous, but it too has a long-established symbolic meaning which would have been betterknown in the nineteenth century than now: heliotrope stands for devotion and faithfulness.Brahms’ mention of flowers is intriguing because the language of flowers (something whichalso fascinated SchumannV) is a “concealed mode of conducting social intercourse,” yet it isparadoxically part of a “‘universal’ set of symbolic meanings.”28 The parallel with op. 9 isstriking: through these variations, Brahms communicates on two levels—privately, to Claraand Robert Schumann, and also publicly, to the rest of the world.Some comments by Ostwald regarding Schumann’s song “Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet”address this issue of private versus public symbolism:On a personal level, Schumann’s song allows the forlorn,motherless child [himself], by way of dreams, poetic imagery, andmusic, to come to terms with the anxieties of a new painfulreality, the unrequited [?] yearning of the adult for his distantbeloved. And on a public or social level, Schumann’s song servesas a semiotic link to future generations of empathic listeners whoare able to experience the composer’s anguish of separation andunfulfilled love.29Brahms’ op. 9 went out into the world, along with Clara’s op. 20, in November 1854,thanks to Breitkopf and Härtel. Some proofs must have been sent to Schumann at Endenich,for in October he wrote to Clara acknowledging receipt of Brahms’ variations. And onNovember 27, having had time to study the piece, he wrote to Clara, “The variations byJohannes delighted me at first sight and do so still more on deeper acquaintance. “3° At thesame time he sent a letter of thanks to Brahms himself. Both the first draft of this letter andthe one actually sent have been published in various sources in both German and English, and43as the comments they contain are general and not particularly illuminating, they are notreproduced here.31Schumann’s praise for his work filled Brahms with “joy and hope.”32 Theencouragement of the master he revered meant the more to him since he got little positiveresponse from the larger musical world. Hans von Bülow found op. 9 “unaesthetic,”33 andJenny Lind believed that it manifested “perverse tendencies”Yet Schumann’s ability at this stage to fully appreciate what Brahms had written mustbe doubted. Although he had access to a piano at the institution where he was incarcerated,and reported to Brahms that he had learned to play the slower variations of the set, he wasprobably drugged by his doctors35 and certainly was not fully in command of his faculties.The extent of his mental decline is shown by a pathetic line in his last letter to Brahms(December 2, 1854): “Clara wrote to me that on page 14 [of op. 9] the music recallssomething. What is it? Out of a song?”36 Schumann apparently did not recognize the themebeing quoted in Brahms’ tenth variation, and despite Clara’s hint, clearly missed this beautifuldouble tribute to himself and his wife.Whether Schumann was able to appreciate it or not, Brahms’ op. 9 was a homage tohim in more ways than one. Of course, the act of writing variations on another composer’stheme was a gesture of homage in itself:By taking up the theme of an older, established musician andincorporating it into his own work, an ambitious youngcomposer could express admiration for the model and at the sametime exhibit his own special talents.37Brahms took up not only Schumann’s theme, but also elements of Schumann’s way ofvarying a theme. It was a principle of the older master that “the style of a set of variations44should be in keeping with that of the theme.”38 Hence Brahms’ appropriation ofSchumannesque rhythms and figuration in op. 9, and hence also, in later years, the baroquetopics of the Handel Variations and the virtuosic display of the Paganini set.39Secondly, Brahms’ op. 9 attaches great importance to pianism, in the manner ofSchumann’s Etudes Symphoniques with their alternating “variations” and “studies.”4° Andthirdly, Schumann’s “dependence upon bass and melody as starting points” and his freeapproach to phrase structure and harmonic progression41 are adopted by Brahms in thiswork, as the analytical remarks of Chapter Five will show.Another leaf which Brahms took from Schumann’s book (or from his album, as itwere!) was the imaginary division of his personality into two composers, each of whomsymbolically contributes specific short pieces to a larger cycle. Since the age of sixteen orseventeen, Brahms had identified strongly with the figure of Johannes Kreisler, himself a sortof alter ego of the writer E.T.A. Hoffmann. Schumann too identified somewhat with thischaracter, “whose desire for inner truth [in art] was so strong that it could be understood bysociety only as madness,”42 and his Kre-isleriana, op. 16, a work of “tortured soul-searching”43from 1838, pays him tribute.Brahms used the pseudonym “Johannes Kreisler junior” along with is own initial Bwhen signing several early works, including op. 1, op. 5, and the first version of op. 8. Theseworks all show Brahms reaching for an unknown goal with an arrogance and a wildexpressivity fully in keeping with the character of Kreisler. In his article “Brahms and E.T.A.Hoffmann,” Siegfried Kross implies that in coming to “know and revere” Schumann’s music,Brahms was helped to move beyond this “mere romantic enthusiasm”—as indeed Kreislereventually did—towards “rational, conscious creation from the centre of his being.”4445Elaine Sisman explains that op. 9 represents a “refinement” of Brahms’ earlier practiceof ascribing his works to two people, in that here either Kreisler or Brahms, not both, arecredited with individual variations. The similarity to the Florestan and Eusebius labels in theDavidsbündlertänze, she says, “surely cannot be coincidental.”45But more than this, the separation of the names indicates that Brahms was dissociatinghimself from his alter ego. A new self-confidence is seen in Brahms’ willingness to juxtaposehis own genuine work with that of Kreisler, who represents an earlier developmental stage.Interestingly, Kreisleriana was the first work of Schumann’s that Brahms discovered,in September 1853. Malcolm MacDonald notes that it must have been “an epiphany ofextraordinary force” for Brahms to realize that Schumann “had entered the Hoffmannesqueimaginative world before him.”47 He further points out that Schumann’s influence waslargely one of “validating . . . [the] creative development he had already undergone on hisown”48—his interest in counterpoint, for example. Of the truly new insights Brahms gainedfrom the older master, one of the most significant, MacDonald asserts, was the concept of asymbol system.It seems clear that Brahms was quickly initiated into the Schumanns’ musicalsymbolism. In a letter written in December 1854, Brahms mentions two passages of music,one by Schumann and one by Beethoven, that he says enable him to see Clara “as it werebodily.”49 Eric Sams discovered why these two passages should have such a strong effect:they both contain the notes E L’-D-C-B-C—the Clara cipher motive in C minor. Brahms usedthe same figure, in the same key, in the first movement of his op. 60 Piano Quartet, begunin 1855. The B-minor form, so favoured by Schumann, constitutes the basic material of thefirst version of Brahms’ Piano Trio, op. 8 (1853-4). And Brahms’ awareness of this Clarasymbol no doubt fuelled his desire to write the variations which became his op. 9.46Students of these variations have frequently seen in them references to, quotationsfrom, and paraphrases of, various pieces by Schumann. These discoveries began soon after thework was published, when the most obvious allusion (that of variation 9 to Schumann’s op.99 no. 5) was remarked by a reviewer, and commentators ever since have been keen to pointout other resemblances. The following table compiles the most convincing references to beunearthed by sixteen different authors, together with some further references of my ownunearthing.Clara frequently said that Robert’s music was her greatest comfort during his illness(see diary entries for March 6, 18, and 21, 1854, for example). By incorporating so manySchumann references into his variations, Brahms not only demonstrated his knowledge of hismentor’s works, but also increased the consoling power of the piece for Clara.To complete the picture of Brahms’ op. 9 as the ne plus ultra of allusiveness, the tablebelow includes lists of perceived references to Clara and to Beethoven. The most deliberateseeming and potentially significant of these references are noted and explained more fully inthe analysis which follows in Chapter Five.47TABLE 1ALLUSIONS IN OP. 9Brahms. *Source: Source: Source:var. Schumann reference** Clara reference Beethovenreference2 Tetzel: 5/5 (1st ed.)Crowder: 13/var. 1 (“hint”)Sisman: “conflation” of 1stvars. of opp. 5, 13Smith: 16/83 Smith: 20/6 (chord in bar169)5 Smith: 5/9 (1st ed.)6 Crowder: 26/4 Smith: 53/3(ca. b. 350)7 Dale: op. 16 (“elliptical Sisman:style” 120/138 Floros: 6/7 (opening Neighbour: 20/6 (canon)chords) 20/7 (opening chords)9 van Bruyck: 99/510 Lacroix-Novaro: quartet, Tetzel: op. 3op. 41, no. 1 (Adagio)11 Evans: op. 7 (ca. b. 113)Pascall op. 9 (V7 opening)Neighbour: 9/3 et al.Musgrave: 10/1Sisman: 42/6Smith: 9/14, 16; 5/7 (1sted.)48Brahms. *Source: Source: Source:var. Schumann reference** Clara reference Beethovenreference12 Floros: 12/6 Smith: 20/2 (b. 64-67)13 Pascall: op. 7Smith: 5/3rd var. (2nd ed.)14 Crowder: 9/1215 Evans: 21/7 (trio) Sisman: 120/8Matthews: 54/1 (ALsection)Floros: 6/1416 Murdoch: 15/13 Sisman:120/20Crowder: 5/1st var.Leichtentritt:Kraus: 6/18 131/4 (var. 5)Smith:120/20*Where two or more sources make mention of the same allusion, the one with the earlier dateis listed. Full details about all the sources may be found in the Bibliography, but forconvenience, the authors’ names are given here, with dates of publication, in chronologicalorder: van Bruyck (1857), Tetzel (1929), Murdoch (1933), Evans (1936), Lacroix-Novaro (1936),Dale (1954), Crowder (1966), Leichtentritt (1967), Matthews (1978), Floros (1980), Pascall(1983), Danuser (1984 —adds no new references), Neighbour (1984), Musgrave (1985), Kraus(1986), and Sisman (1990).**References are given as opus/movement.CHAPTER FIVEDETAILED REMARKS ON THE BRAHMS VARIATIONSVariation 1. Although Brahms’ op. 9 contains some bold departures from the theme,the first variation retains the theme’s phrasing, its general rhythmic makeup, and for the mostpart its melody as well, though not in the soprano: Brahms instead gives it to the lowest voice(where, incidentally, we find it again in the penultimate variation).1The harmonic alterations begin with the replacement of the opening tonic chord bya dominant, which creates the illusion that variation 1 is a continuation of the theme.2 Thegoal of the first period is still A major, but the second period (bars 9-16) moves into territoryavoided by the theme; namely C major.The melody of this middle section also dares to do what the theme did not—to propelitself higher than Gt. The right hand chords of bars 9, 11, and 13 anticipate the melodicarrival points of the left hand a screaming two octaves higher (see ex. 30).Q.mhjjjjh1i)iir r’rj r T p -rcresc.I.. r j)i:- k I r.— I..•‘—4’ 41.4 4’ .Ø.4 4’’4950The contrast with the reluctant and hard-won expansion of the theme in Clara’s set could notbe sharper, and reflects the contrast in the composers’ personalities: Clara grave and care-laden, Brahms arrogant and passionate—as Clara herself described him, “fresh and vigorous. “As well, this passage seems to encapsulate the way in which Brahms seeks to achieve asymbolic liberation of Schumann in these variations, by releasing Schumann’s theme from theconstraints which bind it.In bars 18-20, a C t chord is used as an augmented sixth to modulate to the unexpectedkey of D major. These bars are rather unpianistic, due to the wide spacing of the lowervoices; the dotted rhythm unfortunately suffers as a result of the necessity of arpeggiating theleft hand chords. Strangely, Brahms makes a concession to pianistic limitations in bars 19 and20, moving the bass D up an octave. It is unclear why the rest of the bass line could not havebeen moved up, unless Brahms intended it to counterbalance the treble extremes of theprevious bars. After the excursion to D major, the music returns quickly to the tonic via adiminished chord.Variation 2. Oliver Neighbour states quite categorically that “the first eight variationscontain no [specific] references to Schumann.4 But as can be seen from table 1, at least fourpeople disagree with this assessment, based on variation 2 alone. In fact, of all the variationsin the set, this is one of the most allusive. The obsessive repetition of a dotted rhythm is oneof Schumann’s best known trademarks, and the chains of syncopations, two-against-three, and“slant harmony” (non-alignment of bass and upper voices)5 are also highly typical ofSchumann.This variation is suddenly busier, and abandons the phrasing of the theme. The bass,and consequently the harmony, of the theme are preserved, and traces of its melody remain51(compare bars 3 and 4 with bars 9-12 of the theme); however, everything is compressed, onephrase of the theme equalling one bar of the variation. In order to compensate for thiscontraction, the whole thing is repeated.Just as the “capsized” melody of variation 1 has a parallel in the fifteenth variation, sothe use of the intact thematic bass line relates variation 2 to variation 16.Variation 3 interrupts variation 2, but makes variation 2 seems like an interruptionitself, in retrospect, by returning to the tempo and syntax of variation 1. Variations 1 and 3are in fact almost twins: both are preoccupied with the theme’s melody, which is given inboth of them to the left hand (although in variation 3 the right hand voices sometimes crossbelow it). And the end of the middle section in the two variations is practically identical (seeex. 31).ex- 31_________I j6‘. u- ir’ F•-. ii •7 I-i I ‘•lli) var3c4rr,n.’ --—,f--_--- V I I(f\) r L’SIn variation 3, the harmonic detour is to F minor and A major instead of D major.The way Brahms preserves the arch shape of the theme is interesting. The theme, asnoted in Chapter Two, achieves this symmetry harmonically (see page 15); variation 3 doesso texturally, by reintroducing, at bars 19 and 20, the accompaniment figure which ended thefirst period (bars 7-8).52Variation 4 relates back to variation 2. Again there is the contrast of a legato,espressivo part on top, with leggiero movement below; here, however, the legato element isa single line, and the lighter supporting element is chordal (the reverse of variation 2).The bass of variation 4 reduces to a simple shape, shown in example 32:x. 32. [,s.e-x 33.C.1dLrc. IJ v Ic7 (1 2-IThe melodic idea shown in example 33b is carried sequentially through the first two phrases.Then, in bar 9, Brahms re-orders the melody notes of the theme (ex. 34),C, *‘p p(The whole notes represent pedal tones.) As Elaine Sisman points out, this shape is aretrogradation of the “essential melodic outline of the theme.”6 Meanwhile, the melody of thevariation seems to be informed by the bass of the theme in a way which both complementsthe above relationship and foreshadows variation 10 (see ex. 33).1ir ‘r I rI.Vcr. 4iMr53yielding example 35, which is the basis for the middle section.VAfter two variations in which the melodic intervals of the middle section are notexpanded, the suppressed climax is released again here, in bar 13, with a dolce leap of a ninthto a high B.The rhythm of the accompaniment is unusual—a premonition of op. 119 no. 2? Tetzelnotes the Hungarian end-form (ex. 36)12 3I()k.1 ?95 iJin the rhythm of the melody.Number 4 is the first signed variation; in the autograph, the double bar at the end isextended into a B for Brahms. In some ways, it is also the first real departure from the theme,and as such it may symbolize Brahms’ assertion of his own personality.7Variation 5 and variation 6 are signed by “Kreisler” in the autograph, and it is notsurprising therefore that they are the first variations to take liberties with the proportions ofthe theme, extending themselves in a fantasy-like manner. Variation 5 takes the pairs ofrepeated notes from the accompaniment of variation 4 and applies them to the melody of thetheme to create a forceful display piece. The fanfare octaves and general energetic character54recall the ninth of Schumann’s Impromptus. The unexpected notes of bars 13 and 15 and thechoked pause of bars 29-3 1 also have parallels in the Schumann (see ex. 37).rI-_ •—?p r -- LaTi1 5F. LIIoIatf ‘I- !‘—l._ .. —It is irresistible to see Brahms’ bars 12-15 as foreshadowing a device used by Messiaenin the Quartet for the End of Time. Messiaen describes his procedure as “change of register”:“the low notes of the theme pass to the extreme treble, the treble to the extremely low inabrupt leaps.”8 In the Quartet, the figureex. 3becomese-)(. 39Brahms does exactly the same thing, though less strictly, when the passageES___SI3Ii .4 I€,X. 37 Scv op. 5 flO.4’ I‘,IJ J i-‘-— r rI Jj! - L.c,--r .--I I ,3r -•j C F =r L.ALf, 1 L.1tL1 r rSj2cjVi!is transformed into example 41 (following page).cP7 . Vf 7): 7 7r ‘though this is hidden within a very animated texture (the busiest so far) involving arpeggiofiguration in the right hand and numerous leaps of a fourth in the bass. Bars 9-13 areBeethovenian in texture, and are especially close to a passage in the finale of the “Waldstein”Sonata (see ex. 43).fJPerhaps it is the association with the Waldstein that propels the music at this pointtowards the remote key of C major. After three bars of intense G7, the bass pounds out a lowC octave, but the chord of D-B-F above it refuses to go away. It respells itself in the middle55ex./{bars /2-(5Variation 6. In variation 6, Brahms combines the melodyline from Schumann’s Impromptus (see ex. 42),l144- (_\ Lof the theme with the bass359___56of bar 14 as D-B-E and thereby foils the harmonic plans of the bass for the time being: theC resolves to a C and the opening material returns. However, a whirlwind harmonicprogression, provoked by a series of leaping fourths in the bass (see ex. 44), leads us from Fminor through C minor, A, D, D7 and G to C major at bar 20.exM )I1p T 1.L.., /1-20‘—The C major harmony does not last long. A chain of syncopated diminished chords (also veryBeethovenian) leads us back to F minor for a cadence which makes emphatic use of theleaping fourths (ex. 45).fX. j9Variation 7. Following the Kreislerian expansions of variations 5 and 6, variation 7,by “Brahms,” is greatly contracted. It will be remembered that the middle section of thetheme consisted of two two-bar phrases and a four-bar phrase. In variation 7 those two-barphrases are reduced to two little sighing figures (cx. 46).e.57The extended four-bar answering phrase is represented by the addition of one extra chord witha fermata over it. The oniy precedent for this kind of distillation is Beethoven, in his DiabelliVariations.The clever way in which Brahms reinterprets the middle section in this variation isworth noting. Instead of expanding upwards to higher and higher notes, he returns threetimes to an E; but each time, the E is approached from a lower pitch—first a C, then a B, andfinally a B 6—so that, while the intervals still expand, the passage avoids the kind of melodicclimax of other variations, which would seem overwrought in the context of this understatedlittle piece.Michael Musgrave finds this variation “radical,” not only in its extreme compression,but in the extent of its harmonic alteration and use of changing metres. It also reverses themetrical organization of the theme—or at least exploits the metrical ambiguity- of the theme(see ex. 47).rrex.474 ...-) — ‘..) 4r *r I rVariation 8. To quote Craig Cummings, “Variation 8 functions as both a return afterthe developments of the previous variations and a restatement from which the ensuingvariations are generated.”9 Neighbour also finds number 8 a point of demarcation;specifically, he says that it marks the end of the first, Clara-oriented half of the variations.Remarking that Brahms’ use of canon here derives from Clara’s variation 6, and that hisarpeggiated opening chords derive from Clara’s variation 7, Neighbour surmises that Brahms’58intention was to match Clara’s “eight variations with eight of his own,” and that he then“turns to her husband in variation 9” (the parody of Schumann’s second Albumblatt).’°However, this view is somewhat problematic; first, because Clara’s finale is not aneighth variation. Furthermore, the argument is based on Neighbour’s belief that there are nospecial allusions to Robert in the first eight of Brahms’ variations, and it ignores the fact thatthe most obvious allusion to Clara is yet to come, in variation 10.The similarity which Neighbour spots between the openings of this variation andClara’s seventh is clear enough (see ex. 48), but this does not, as he suggests, exclude thepossibility of a simultaneous allusion to no. 7 of Schumann’s Davidsbündlertãnze (ex. 49).(/ dj, •.I.J. ex’.t1________________14Q;i! 4../And neither of these references diminishes the fact that the opening chords of Brahms’variation 8 are the same as the opening chords of his own variation 7 (ex. 50).50\cI,_—$ 4 p4 2 #2 2—Variations 7 and 8 are further connected by the same tempo marking, and moresignificantly, by the fact that the reversal of metrical weight which Brahms employed at the59level of the bar in the terse variation 7 is applied to the phrase in variation 8 (though this doesnot become clear until the entry of the bass in bar 5) (see ex. 51).2-x. SfLike variation 5, variation 8 ends with a tièrce de Picardie. The link between the twocadences is made more explicit by the use of basically the same chordal spacing (see ex. 52).LX. 5L11I.Variation 9 can best be described as a paraphrase of Schumann’s op. 99 no. 5, reworkedso as to resemble his op. 99 no. 4. Written in 1838, no. 5 has a chimerical quality which was•• _.i. iL‘Itr— .. ti—V--. •IU- a aI I I U. -4.*IOs. S.• B14z, .1-I1 -q1--.-1L —.I1I-p !ii11 -60originally reflected in the title “Fata Morgana.” It is reproduced in full in Plate I (followingpages). The critic Karl van Bruyck detected its similarity to Brahms’ ninth variation in areview of op. 9 in the Wiener Zeitung of September 25, 1857, but assumed that the resemblancewas unintentional. As Sisman recounts, Brahms retorted that “on the contrary, both intentionand connection are utterly self-evident,” especially since the piece alluded to “follows the Fminor theme directly in the original collection.”11van Bruyck’s error can be forgiven, because of the remarkable way the paraphrase ismade to fit in with its surroundings, as if it grew naturally there, instead of being transplanted.Its ubiquitous 6/4 chords (which begin every bar except bars 11-14) have been prepared by theprominent second inversion chords of variation 8 (bars 5, 7, 9, et al.). The leaping fourths inthe bass recall variation 6. And Brahms uses Schumann’s metrically ambiguous rhythm12 tocreate an ideal transition between the weak-strong metrical organization of variations 7 and8 and the clear strong-weak organization which returns in variation 10.It is interesting to speculate as to why Brahms chose to paraphrase this piece. Perhapshe noticed certain similarities between its basic harmonic progressions and those of his theme:in both pieces the middle section moves from mediant to dominant, and the ends of bothpieces employ the subdominant. Another attraction of the second Albumblatt might havebeen that its melody (such as it is) seems to be a stuttering Clara-motive that never resolves(D-C -B-A-).Schumann’s original and Brahms’ paraphrase taken together provide a fascinatingmicrocosm of the stylistic differences between the two composers. Schumann’s piece is moresymmetrical and more regular in its phrasing (see ex. 53).ex. 53 Brahms Schumann4+4+6+7 4+4+4+44+4÷6+64-;‘ I 4 7e.4W*>*- TILIII* .c.* * ** *4’- 4 4 1 -x* C-,(I’*C-C*P*p1pIic-fl CD0 0 •1 0, 0,a’4W-ca’63It is longer, yet less varied than the Brahms: while Brahms is already inverting the two-notemelodic motive in the fourth bar, Schumann obsessively repeats the motive, mostly at thesame pitch, for twenty-six consecutive bars (except that bars 11 and 23 have a rest insertedbetween the notes). After so much repetition, Schumann’s ending relies on contrast forclosure, while Brahms’ ending is motivically more organic.In both pieces, a quasi-independent voice splits off from the figuration in the middlesection. Schumann’s coda resolves this added voice into the lower register, as befits the seffcontained nature of the piece. But Brahms leaves his G (bar 14) hanging—indeed, he carriesit up an octave more in the diminished flurry of bars 19-20, and leaves that unresolved as well.Schumann’s comment on this variation in his letter to Brahms was, “How beautiful inform!” That was in fact the only comment he could in modesty make, since the content ofthe piece was his own! The form, as defined by harmony and motivic identity, is AABA’,where A moves from i to III, B moves from III to V, and A’ moves from i through iv backto i. The more patchwork-like form of Schumann’s piece, for comparison, is AABAA’B’A”coda (A: i-V, B: 1116-V, coda: iv-i).Variation 10, as mentioned above, restores the metre of the theme unambiguously andimmediately in the first two bars, with the higher notes of the melody and the lower notesof the bass on the downbeats (see ex. 54).v., PexM(i-i’ I r I r. FVP.. .Af r---64The melody is, of course, a transformation of the bass of the theme, and the bass is thatsame melody inverted. But in its immediate Context, the descending fourth with which themelody begins has more to do with the ostinato falling fourths of the bass in variation 9. The6/4 chords with which variation 9 was preoccupied also turn up, in an inner voice in bars 1,4 and 5 (see ex. 55).____________b)jg4bar 9 Var. /0, o.r / br 4-Harmonizing with this in bar 1 is the incipit of the theme, transposed to D major and indiminution (ex. 56)..‘.fAs well, the interpolated repetition (although altered) of the first section is a point ofsimilarity with variation 9.As noted earlier, the melodic use of the theme’s bass line was foreshadowed byvariation 4. The connection between these two variations is reinforced by the semi-staccatosixteenth-note accompaniment which they share, and the triplet sixteenths which are a featureof the melodic lines in both.This triplet rhythm takes over in bar 9 and underlies the altered repetition of the firstperiod, in which the bass line temporarily abandons its mirroring of the soprano and insteadan inverted form of the melody is given to the alto, replying to the soprano at one bar’sdistance. 13€.x. 56 I,. Im65The crossing of the canonic voices in bars 11-12 is seen by Eugen Tetzel as havingsymbolic significance.14 What that significance might be he does not specify, but if the twocanonic voices represent two people, their turning towards each other and intersecting couldsymbolize physical contact—an embrace or a kiss, perhaps. Without suggesting that Brahmsnecessarily set out to achieve such a depiction, it does seem like an appropriate interpretation,given the character and context of the piece, and the romantic inscription on the manuscript.The middle section (bars 17-24) returns to the simultaneous inversion of the melodyin the bass, employing some exquisite dissonances and emotive suspensions. The last eight barsinclude the allusion to Clara’s Romance vane. But unlike the appearance of this fragment inClara’s op. 20, its use here is truly hidden, and has much more the nature of a private message(despite Brahms’ discreet accent marks). It is given no structural prominence as it is in Clara’sfinale: the first note even dovetails with the left hand accompaniment figure. It creates noharmonic surprises as in Clara’s composition. The canon too distracts one from the quotation.If one were analyzing this variation closely, in ignorance of the quotation, one wouldcertainly query this inner voice. But the first three notes could be justified as anothermanifestation of the 6/4 chord which is outlined so often elsewhere. The next three notescould be considered an imitative reflection of the soprano (see ex. 57),11T 29-30and the remaining notes of the intrusion (two filled-in tritones) are clearly related to theprimary melodic material of the variation (note especially bars 25-26: see ex. 58).66e. 5S r i r t4€.btkrac-2 b. 31- 32_Rhythmically, the return to non-triplet sixteenths is a structural necessity in any case, thevariation having begun with ordinary sixteenths which were superceded by triplets until thispoint.In other words, the allusion is so thoroughly integrated that it would be lost to alistener who did not recognize the tune or have prior knowledge of its use here. That is notto say that it would be without beauty for an uninitiated listener: the expansive character ofthe melodic gesture, its placement in the rich middle register, and its occurrence at the pointwhere the music turns from a diminished-chord-laden minor to a “beaming” D major’5 allgive it musical value quite apart from its extramusical associations.Variation 11. Here the harmony and phrasing of the theme are “swept away,” but themelody retains the shape of the theme and the “emphatic syncopation before the descent.”16Table 1 indicates that this variation is one of the most redolent of Schumann, along withvariation 2, with which, as it happens, it shares several other characteristics: both areextremely compressed and have two identical halves; both have a quiet leggiero quality; andneither one is closed harmonically. It is this last feature, its avoidance of the tonic, whichinterests Oliver Neighbour and relates it to Schumann’s Carnaval, op. 9. It is difficult to say67which part of Carnaval Brahms might have had in mind, because as Neighbour says, “Inreferring to one piece [he] refers to all.”7 There are certain parallels with “Ariequin,” morestill with “Lettres dansantes,” which like variation 11 is “based almost entirely on a dominantpedal that never resolves;”18 rhythmically it is reminiscent of “Reconnaissance” andmelodically of the “Valse allemande” (bars 9-15).The piece derives much of its interest from its copious use of the neighbour-notes—forexample, the Ga-A of bars 2-3, the B-C of bars 5-6, and the teasing alternation of D and Dwith E in bars 10-12. The right hand inner voice of bars 4-8 employs both upper and lowerneighbours of F (see ex. 59).61).x. Oir-The left-hand offbeat chords begin by referring to the melody of variation 10 (ex. 60),a. Var. io I, iiand then engage in a playful alternation of sharp and natural lower neighbours to the A (ex.9 hfX./168Even the bass line occasionally leaves off reiterating Ds to contribute to the chromaticism (bars10-13). And, as Craig Cummings points out, the entire variation is really just theharmonization of a prolonged neighbour-note, C—harmonized, I would add, by a pedal D,those two notes being upper and lower neighbours respectively to the C on which they dulyconverge at the end of the variation.Variation 12, as full of the atmosphere of commedia dell’arte as anything in Carnaval,returns to the key and basic structure of the theme. Rather than emulating the melodic linesof the theme, however, the variation encapsulates its main motive in numerous descendingleaps of a fifth. In the middle section, the theme’s expanding repetitions are transformed forthe first time into a harmonic sequence (a procedure used again in variation 14).The piece manages to work itself around to a dominant seventh chord on D (b. 17)—afamiliar enough sonority from the previous variation—before a brilliant coda, marked “moltocrescendo e stringendo,” in which the thematic descending fifth is pointillistically articulatedover a throbbing C t pedal and a pungent series of suspensions (ex. 62).The complex rhythm and the stringendo effect of this coda have a close parallel in anothercoda by Brahms: that of op. 76 no. 5.Variation 13, like variation 11, explores chromatic neighbours. It employs a harmonicand phrase structure which is strikingly similar to that of variation 9 (see ex. 63).69ex.63 A A B A’4 bars 4 bars 9 bars 7 barsi-Ill i-ill 111-Il i-iv-iThe figuration is that of the Schumann Toccata, but the gestures are unmistakeably those ofthe theme: the vascillation around C followed by a descent; the same repeated; then thecontrary-motion expansions of the outer voices and another descent (from a higher point); andthe final section like the beginning, but with a few subtle alterations.Variation 14. Here again Brahms uses canon to create a variation of great expressivebeauty. This is the last variation in F minor, and it harks back to the yearning quality ofearlier variations, particularly 1, 3, and 7. The resemblance to “Chopin” from Schumann’sCarnaval has often been remarked. The bass line of bars 13-22 (see ex. 64)I .is an inversion of the Clara motive from the theme (C -B-A-G -A).Variation 15. The tonic major steals in at the beginning of variation 15 in 6/4 positionwith the third on top, which is touchingly reminiscent of the arrival of F major in Clara’sfinale (see ex. 27b). However, Brahms chooses to notate variation 15 in G I, major, and onehas to wonder why. Of course the reason could be simply that the jjj7 chord and thechromatic inflections thereof around the twelfth and thirteenth bars are too complicatedlooking in F, but Brahms does not worry about such things in variation 16, which has Mdiminished, E and A -minor chords in abundance. The flat signature does make the70reference to number 14 of the Davidsbündlertãnze (which is in Eta) more obvious. But couldthere be a symbolic significance in the six flats?According to Hugh Macdonald, “For a mid-nineteenth-century composer to adopt [thekey of G J was to make a statement about the nature of the music.19 G L carried a “senseof remoteness” which F lacked because of its kinship with F $ minor, “a common enough keyin classical parlance.”20 For Macdonald, the iocus classicus for the use of G L is the celebratedlove scene in Meyerbeer’s Les Hugenots, where it conveys not only the ecstasy of love, but also“a sense of stasis” and of suspended time.2’Brahms’ fifteenth variation certainly has some of these same characteristics. The pieceseems to be harmonically suspended, never reaching a point of repose until the last bar. Theslow tempo and the augmentation of the repeated notes of the melody do give the piece acertain static quality. Remoteness is perhaps conveyed by the widely separated canonic voices,spanned by a fragile thread of arpeggios.But the primary affekt of this penultimate variation is surely tenderness and consolation.The accompaniment figuration suggests the stroking of a gentle hand or perhaps the quietlapping of waves on a beach. There is something soothing too in the bass’s reassuring canonic“answer” to the soprano’s “questioning.” It seems likely that the choice of key had somethingto do with this desire to soothe. At a practical level, the key signature of six sharps has aprickly appearance which makes it subconsciously unsuitable for a piece which is intended tocomfort.Variation 16. The long-awaited cadence in bar 26 of variation 15—postponed evenfurther by a molto ritenuto—could be the end of the entire piece, in terms of the emotionalresolution attained by this variation; but out of that cadence emerges a faint yet deliberate71voice. At the same time, the key changes to Ft major. Is this just so that Brahms can endthe work in the nominally correct key, or is it a hint to the performer that what follows isquite different in import from the last variation?Commentators have had very disparate views of the emotional significance of this finalvariation. Schumann himself remarked that the piece ended “beautifully and blessedly.”Detlef Kraus detects in the “gentle sighs” of the right hand the same spirit of “radiant bliss”which is present at the conclusion of the Davidsbündlertãnze? For Tetzel, the piece isillusive, taciturn, and shy—a “secret exchange of souls.”24 Yves Lacroix-Novaro hears“meditative and religious” overtones.25 For Denis Matthews, the variation “resolves [the]yearnings” of the theme;26 and to Louis Crowder it is “deeply moving and somehowcomforting. “L’ Yet Hugo Leichtentritt calls variation 16 a “dissolution”—a “pale, inanimateshadow of the theme;”28 and Malcolm MacDonald notes the poignant fragmentation andisolation of the melodic material, which, he says, convey “a sense of infinite regret.” It isprobably not necessary to decide among these interpretations. Remembering that Brahms isin F t major, the key of the most “complicated feelings,” we can accept that all of theseconflicting meanings may be present simultaneously. In the manuscript this variation is signedwith a B for Brahms, and it bears his signature figuratively too, in its fundamental ambiguity.One aspect of the meaning of variation 16 is accessible only to people with specialknowledge of Schumann’s piano music. At the time these variations were written,the twopeople in the world who best knew Schumann’s piano music and for whom it had the mostresonance were probably Clara Schumann, the dedicatee, and Brahms, the composer. Thespecial insight into this last variation that those two people would thus have shared would bea unique bond between them.72Brahms clearly intended, and Clara would certainly have recognized, that the faint yetdeliberate voice which speaks in this variation is none other than Schumann’s, in a doubleallusion to the first variation of the Impromptus, op. 5, and to the last of the Kinderscenen, op.15.° (These are reproduced in Plate II on the following page.)The presence of the Impromptus has been felt throughout these variations. Brahmsmust have been specially attracted to their combination of youthful romance andcompositional discipline. The Kinderscenen, composed in 1838, are suffused with Schumann’snostalgia for childhood. Brahms’ allusion to that work must have been filled with irony in1854 in light of the fact that Schumann, then 44, was in a sense experiencing his “secondchildhood.” The movement to which Brahms refers is “a typical Schumannesque epilogue, ofthe kind he so often favoured in his songs and song-cycles, fading away into characteristicdistance and silence.”31 It is entitled “The Poet Speaks.”It is as though Brahms wanted merely to be a channel, in this final variation, for thecreative voice of his friend—the voice now rapidly fading away into silence forever.Accordingly, Brahms strips away all of his decoration and invention, and allows Schumann,who had the first word in this work, to have the last word as well.—p4 I. I3 C, 3.4 0 0 (Al0 ‘4(flICONCLUSIONThe foregoing pages have made use of various approaches to the works underconsideration: elements of old-fashioned romantic interpretation are combined with a moresophisticated reading of underlying symbolism derived from semiotics and psychoanalysis;motivic, harmonic, rhythmic, and structural analysis is juxtaposed with reception history.Both Clara Schumann’s op. 20 and Brahms’ op. 9 are beautiful works which can beappreciated without any specialized knowledge. But for those who wish to seek further, thereare hidden messages and symbolism just under the surface. We have seen how elements of theBrahms set, such as its Schumann allusions, use of canon, and the alternation of ustrictil and“fantastic” variations, can be traced to the specific circumstances under which the work waswritten. We have also seen how the intense chromaticism and the rhythmic accelerando ofClara’s set, the inclusion of a quotation, and her reluctance to expand the intervals of thetheme, can be seen as reflecting aspects of her personality and circumstances.Clara’s work, while highly pianistic and immediate in its emotional impact, does notstand up to the same kind of analytical scrutiny as Brahms’ op. 9 with its extraordinaryintellectual penetration of the theme. But both pieces deserve to be played more often:Clara’s for its sheer sensuous beauty, Brahms’ for its compositional daring, characteristicambiguity, and a certain appealing crudeness which is absent from more mature works.74NOTESINTRODUCTION1. Ludwig Finscher, “Zwischen absoluter und Programmusik’: zur Interpretation derdeutschen romantischen Symphonie,” in Uber Symphonien: Festschrift Walter Wiora,ed. Christian-Heilmut Mahling (Tutzing: Schneider, 1979): 108; trans. in AnthonyNewcomb, “Once More ‘Between Absolute and Program Music’: Schumann’s SecondSymphony,” 19th-Centuy Music 7/3 (April 1984): 248.2. K. Robert Schwarz, “Composers’ Closets Open for All to See,” New York Times, June19, 1994, H24.CHAPTER ONE: SCHUMANN AND MUSICAL MEANING1. Edward A. Lippman, “Theory and Practice in Schumann’s Aesthetics,” Journal of theAmerican Musicological Society, 17 (1964): 310-45.2. Robert Schumann, “Symphonie von Hector Berlioz,” Neue ZeitschriftfurMusik, 1835;trans. Fanny Raymond Ritter in Music and Musicians (London: W. Reeves, 1877), 250.3. Lippman, 336.4. Leon B. Plantinga, Schumann as Critic (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), 120.5. Lippman, 331.6. Ibid., 338.7. Plantinga, 117.8. E.T.A. Hoffmann, quoted in Paul Moos, Die Philosophie der Musik (Berlin: Schusterund Loeffler, 1992), 123.9. E.T.A. Hoffmann, quoted in Thomas Alan Brown, The Aesthetics ofRobert Schumann(Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1968), 19.10. René Wellek, A History ofModern Criticism: 1750-1950 (New Haven: Yale UniversityPress, 1955), 2: 101.757611. Lippman, 336.12. Letter to Clara Wieck, March 1838; trans. in May Herbert, Early Letters of RobertSchumann (London: Bell and Sons, 1888), 266.13. Lippman, 332.14. Schumann in NZjM 1 (1834): 10; trans. in Plantinga, 121.15. Letter to Clara Wieck, April 13, 1838; trans. in Herbert, 270.16. Gesammelte Schrzften überMusik undMusiker von Robert Schumann, 5th ed., rev. MartinKreisig (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hartel, 1914), 2: 207; trans. in Lippman, 331.17. Lippman, 321, 329.18. Ibid., 340.19. Letter to Clara Wieck, February 6, 1838; trans. by Hannah Bryant in Karl Storck (ed.),The Letters ofRobert Schumann (New York: Dutton and Co., 1907), 181.20. Letter to Clara Wieck, April 13, 1838; trans. in Herbert, 268.21. Letter to Clara Wieck, April 22, 1839; trans. in Herbert, 290.22. Letter to Clara Wieck, October 9, 1837; trans. in Berthold Litzmann, Clara Schumann:An A rtist’s from Diaries and Letters, trans. and abridged Grace E. Hadow (London:Macmillan, 1913; reprint, New York: Vienna House, 1972), 1: 112.23. Eric Sams, “The Tonal Analogue in Schumann’s Music,” Proceedings of the RoyalMusical Association 96 (1969-70): 113.24. Roger Fiske, “A Schumann Mystery,” Musical Times 105 (August 1964): 576.25. Nicholas Temperley, letter to the editor, Musical Times 105 (October 1964): 744.26. Schumann’s own combination of the two motives can be seen in bars 77-80 of op. 6no. 3.27. Another example of this kind of transformed quotation occurs in Schumann’s Fttminor sonata, where a motive from Clara’s “Ballet des Revenants” is disguised by achange of clef. (Shades of the Renaissance puzzle canon!) See Yonty Solomon, “SoloPiano Music (I): The Sonatas and Fantasies,” in Robert Schumann: The Man and hisMusic, ed. Alan Walker (London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1972), 46-47.28. Joan Chissell, Schumann Piano Music, BBC Music Guides (London: BritishBroadcasting Corporation, 1972), 13. See also Gregory Harwood, “Robert Schumann’sSonata in F-sharp Minor: A Study of Creative Process and Romantic Inspiration,”Current Musicology 29 (1980): 21. Unfortunately, both of these authors muddy the77motivic waters by failing to distinguish between four-note and five-note descendingpatterns and by equating a descending skip of a fifth with a filled-in interval of a fifth.Harwood, in addition, incorrectly imputes the cryptographic meaning of the motiveE-B-E (in German E-H-E—”marriage”) to open fifths on any pitches.29. Eric Sams, “Did Schumann Use Ciphers?” MT 106 (August 1965): 584-91; “TheSchumann Ciphers,” MT 107 (May 1966): 392-400; “The Schumann Ciphers: A Coda,”MT 107 (December 1966): 1050-5 1; The Songs ofRobert Schumann (London: EulenburgBooks, 1969), 21-26; “The Tonal Analogue in Schumann’s Music,” PRJvIA 96 (1969-70):103-17; the latter somewhat expanded as “Schumann and the Tonal Analogue” inWalker (ed.), Robert Schumann, 390-405.30. Although I find the Musical Times articles thoroughly convincing, I am dubious aboutsome of the assertions on pages 21-26 of Sams’ book, The Songs ofRobert Schumann.By the time he wrote his book, Sams had expanded the repertoire of Clara themes,without apparent justification, to include a filled-in tritone, a rising minor scale of fivenotes, and two four-note figures. It is of course possible to use altered forms of a Claratheme developmentally, after it has been presented in its normal form, but there wouldseem to be no point in calling all these vaguely related versions “Clara-themes.” Samsimplies in his book that all the forms he puts forward are related by belonging to afragment of a minor scale (the “mine of themes meaning Clara”), but in fact he acceptsvariants of many of the themes with their pitches inflected so that they don’t belongto a minor scale at all. (Sams never published his promised book on Schumann’sciphers—one wonders if the project got out of hand!)31. Some of his reviews are even cast in the form of dance suites or ball programmes.Sams, “Tonal Analogue,” 108.32. Sams, “Tonal Analogue,” 103.33. Brown, 169.34. Lippman, 319.35. Sams, “Tonal Analogue,” 108.36. Jean Paul, Politische Fastenpredigten (Tubingen, 1817), quoted in Sams, “TonalAnalogue,” 109. One thinks immediately of the “Sphinxes” in Carnaval.37. Robert Schumann, “Symphonien für Orchester,” NZjM 1843; trans. in Ritter, 60.38. The “G” being greeted in op. 68 no. 41 is the Danish musician Nils Gade. InCarnaval, the title of number 10 and the “Sphinxes” notated between numbers 8 and9 acknowledge the letters used but not their significance: Asch is the name of a littleBohemian town where Ernestine von Fricken lived, and the same four letters are themusical letters in Schumann’s name.39. Sams, “Did Schumann,” 589.7840. The Intermezzi, op. 4, were dedicated to Kalliwoda, whose nine-letter name yields onlyfour different pitches in this “pre-Clara” cipher set to a scale of A—namely D, CP, A,and G. These four notes are repeated twice, fortissimo, at the outset of the firstIntermezzo, which then goes off on quite a different tack.The op.7 Toccata was dedicated to Ludwig Schunke, with whom Schumann wasbriefly infatuated. The name Ludiwg in pre-Clara cipher yields, in order, F-G-F-B-C-B,and it is not difficult to imagine the first-theme figuration of the Toccata arising fromSchumann’s experimentation with those notes. “Schunke,” enciphered in the key ofthe second theme, yields the incipit of that theme: B-G-E-D.41. In one sense, Schumann’s alteration of the alphabetical order of the grid increased thearbitrariness of an already arbitrary system. On the other hand, there is, after all, nointrinsic reason for the order of the alphabet, and by rearranging its letters, Schumannpersonalized the whole cipher system, which no doubt enhanced it authority for him.42. Sams, “Tonal Analogue,” 113-14.43. Sams, “Did Schumann,” 585. Sams had evidently modified this view by 1969 when hewrote that Schumann’s cryptography was “typically Romantic” and that Romantic artaimed to deal with “the brain as well as the heart” (Songs ofRobert Schumann, 26).44. Lippman, 311.45. Fiske, 575.46. Sams, “Did Schumann,” 586.47. Sams, “The Schumann Ciphers,” 393.48. Chissell, Schumann Piano Music, 8.49. Nancy B. Reich, Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman (Ithaca: CornellUniversity Press, 1985), 200, 232.50. Malcolm MacDonald, Brahms, Master Musicians Series, ed. Stanley Sadie (London: J.M.Dent, 1990), 33.51. Anthony Newcomb, “Once More ‘Between Absolute and Program Music’:Schumann’s Second Symphony,” 19th-Century Music 7/3 (April 1984): 233-50.52. Newcomb, 240.53. Ibid., 247.54. Peter Ostwald, Schumann: The Inner Voices ofa Musical Genius (Boston: NortheasternUniversity Press, 1985), 112.79CHAPTER TWO: SCHUMANN’S OP. 99 NO. 41. Chissell, Schumann Piano Music, 69.2. Kathleen Dale, “The Piano Music,” in Schumann: A Symposium, ed. Gerald Abraham(London: Oxford University Press, 1952), 67.3. Florence May, in The Life ofJohannes Brahms (London: William Reeves, n.d.), 1: 166,states cryptically that Schumann’s first Albumblatt “refers to” his earlier op. 5. But sheincorrectly calls the Albumblatt “op. 99 no. 1,” supplies a musical example whichcontains a mistake, and then gives an erroneous title for op. 5, calling it Variations ona Theme by Clara Wieck—all of which casts doubt on her assertion. MalcolmMacDonald’s more recent Brahms biography, referred to above, devotes a muddledfootnote (p. 83) to the connection between these two works, saying that the bass lineof op. 5 “closely resembles the Albumblatt.”4. Denis Matthews, Brahms Piano Music, BBC Music Guides (London: BritishBroadcasting Corporation, 1978), 26.5. Plantinga, 194.6. Ibid., 259, 152, 148.7. Schumann in N2f4’I 4 (1836): 135; trans. in Plantinga, 261.8. Letter from Clara of December 3, 1839, and Schumann’s reply of December 8; Nicholas Marston, Schumann Fantasie op. 17, Cambridge Music Handbooks, ed.Julian Rushton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 35.9. There is no record of her studying or performing the work until 1854 (LitzmannArtist’s Life, 2: 447). This was around the time when Clara and Brahms were writingtheir variations, so if the connection was ever made it was probably then.10. Diagram based partly on Craig Cummings, “Large-scale Coherence in SelectedNineteenth-Century Piano Variations” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1991), 180.11. Joan Chissell, Clara Schumann: A Dedicated Spirit (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1983),117.12. Chissell, Schumann Piano Music, 69.13. Indeed, one interpreter at least has made this inference. Yves Lacroix-Novaro in hisarticle “De Schumann a Brahms, “La Revue Musicale 17/163 (February 1936), p. 90, callsthe piece a “marche funèbre.”80CHAPTER THREE: CLARA SCHUMANN’S OP. 201. Diary entry for May 29, 1853, trans. in Litzmann Artist’s Life, 2: 36.2. Anna M. Burton, “A Psychoanalyst’s View of Clara Schumann,” in PsychoanalyticExplorations in Music, ed. Smart Feder, Richard L. Karmel, and George H. Pollock(Madison, Conn.: International Universities Press, 1990), 109.3. Letter of March 4, 1838; trans. in Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 2: 36.4. Litzmann, Artist’s Lzja’, 1: 259.5. Litzmann, Künstlerleben, 2: 86; trans. in Ostwald Inner Voices, 118.6. Pamela Susskind, “Clara Wieck Schumann as Pianist and Composer: A Study of herLife and Works” (Ph.D. diss., University of California at Berkeley, 1977), 213.7. Chissell, Clara Schumann, 118.8. Ibid., 117.9. Letters from and to Jose-ph Joachim, sel. and trans. Nora Bickley (London: Macmillan,1914; reprint, New York: Vienna House, 1972), 87.10. Anna M. Burton, “Robert Schumann and Clara Wieck — A Creative Partnership,” inPsychoanalytic Explorations, 445.11. Burton, “Psychoanalysts’s View,” 102-3.12. See for example Mahier, Pine, and Bergman, The Psychological Birth of the HumanInfant (New York: Basic Books, 1975), 50.13. Burton, “Psychoanalyst’s View,” 102-3.14. See for example Ostwald, Inner Voices, 140.15. Reich, 231.16. Ostwald, Inner Voices, 90.17. Janina Kiassen, preface to Clara Wieck.Schumann: Ausgewãhlte Kiavierwerke (Munich:Henle, 1987), viii.18. Claudia Stevens Becker, “A New Look at Schumann’s Impromptus,” Musical Quarterly67 (1981): 570-71.8119. Anthony Newcomb, “Schumann and the Marketplace: From Butterflies toHausmusik,” in Nineteenth.Centu?y Piano Music, ed. Larry Todd, Studies in MusicalGenres and Repertoires (New York: Schirmer Books, 1990), 258-315.20. The bar numbering in the Clara Schumann variations follows the Henle edition, whichis continuous. However, the bars are numbered separately for each variation in theBrahms.21. Hugh Macdonald, “G 1’,” 19th-Centuy Music 11/3 (Spring 1988): 226.22. Litzmann, A rtist’s Lij, 2: 81. As clear as this is, neither Clara’s principal biographernor the editor of her piano works for Henle appears to have noticed it. Janina Kiassenremarks that Brahms’ op. 9, which was published at the same time as Clara’s op. 20,also quotes this theme, and wonders whether Clara “had previously improvised thisreminiscence or took the idea from Brahms” (preface to A usgewabite Kiavierwerke, viii).Nancy Reich (Clara Schumann, 246) also considers this a moot point.23. Gesammelte Schriften, 1: 107; trans. in Hugh Macdonald, 226.24. Litzmann, Artist’s Lij, 2: 75, 79.25. Ibid., 2: 108, 86.26. Hatten, quoted in Monelle, 237.27. Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 1: 262. Schumann did not in fact dedicate op. 28 to hisbetrothed, but to Count Heinrich II of Reuss-Köstritz (Chissell, Schumann Piano Music,55).28. Alan Walker, The Weimar Years, 1848-1861, vol. 2, Franz Liszt (London: Faber andFaber, 1989), 157.29. Ibid. Clara said this with her own variations ringing in her ears, for only the daybefore, she had played them for Brahms! (Litzmann, Artist’s 2: 74). The passagein question can of course be accounted for on purely musical grounds: the melody isjust the opening melody of the theme on a different degree of the scale, and the bassline develops quite organically from the thirty-second-note upper and lower neighbourfiguration of variation 7.30. Susskind, 213.31. Chissell, Clara Schumann, 117.32. James Sykes, notes to Schumann and Bennett (Orion Master Recordings, n.d.).33. Judith Alstadter, notes to Clara Schumann and Fanny Mendelssohn (Musical HeritageSociety, 1980).8234. Joachim Draheim, notes to Clara Schumann: Complete W7orks for Piano, vol. 2, playedby Jozef De Beenhouwer (Partridge, 1991).35. Letter from Clara to Marie Wieck, August 16, 1853; quoted in Draheim.36. David Lidov, “The Allegretto of Beethoven’s Seventh,” American Journal of Semiotics1 (1981): 149.CHAPTER FOUR: GENERAL NOTES ON BRAHMS’ OP. 91. Diary entry for October 30, 1853; trans. in Litzmann, Artist’s Lift, 2: 46.2. See Constantin Floros, “Schumanns Aufsatz ‘Neue Bahnen’ in neuer Deutung,” Brahms und Bruckner: Studien zur musikalischen Exegetik (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf undHärtel, 1980), 99-114.3. Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 2: 60.4. Reich, 191.5. Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 2: 69.6. Malcolm MacDonald, 40.7. Diary entry for May 24, 1854; trans. in Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 2: 74.8. Diary entry for May 27, 1854; trans. in Litzmann, Artist’s life 2: 74-75.9. Letter of June 19, 1854; trans. in Artur Holde, “Suppressed Passages in the BrahmsJoachim Correspondence Published for the First Time,” Musical Quarterly 45 (July1959), 314.10. Not August as Chissell implies in Brahms (London: Faber, 1977), 30-3 1.11. Letter of October 20, 1854 to Gisela von Arnim; trans. in Bickley, 91.12. Letters of Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms, ed. Berthold Litzmann (New York:Longmans, Green, and Co., 1927) 1: 4-5.13. Trans. in Michael Musgrave, The Music ofBrahms (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,1985), 29.14. May, 1: 167.15. Ostwald, Inner Voices, 288.8316. Peter Ostwald, “Johannes Brahms, Solitary Altruist,” in Brahms and His World, ed.Walter M. Frisch (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 23.17. Trans. in Bickley, 73.18. Litzmann, Artist’s Life, 2: 77.19. Louis Crowder, “Brahms’ Early Tribute to the Schumanns,” Clavier 5/7 (December1966): 19.20. See Elaine R. Sisman, “Brahms and the Variation Canon,” 19th.Centuy Music 14/2 (Fall1990), 141.21. Oliver Neighbour, “Brahms and Schumann: Two Opus Nines and Beyond,” 19th-Centuy Music 7/3 (April 1984), 268.22. Example derived from Cummings, 184.23. Bickley, 77.24. See letters of August 15, 1854 from Brahms to Clara in Litzmann, Letters, 1:7.25. Eusebius Mandyczewski, textual notes to op. 9 (Vienna: Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde,1927; reprint, New York: Dover, 1971), x.26. Karl Geiringer, Brahms: His Life and Work, 2nd ed., trans. H.B. Weiner and BernardMiall (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1948), 211.27. Sams, “The Schumann Ciphers,” 399.28. Jack Goody, The Culture ofFlowers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993),238.29. Peter Ostwald, “The Healing Power of Music: Some Observations on the SemioticFunction of Transitional Objects,” in The Semiotic Bridge: Trends from Calfornia, ed.Irmengard Rausch and Gerald F. Carr, Approaches to Semiotics, no. 86 (Berlin:Mouton de Gruyter, 1989), 290.30. May, 1: 177.31. The initial draft was first published in Karl Geiringer, Johannes Brahms (Vienna:Rudolf M. Rohrer, 1935), 187. The translation given in the English version (citedabove), which is identical to that given in Matthews (also cited above), mysteriouslyrenders the German Substanz as “retrogression,” in the phrase, “die 6te mit ihrerSubstanz im 2ten Theil.” Substanz in general means substance or material. In musicalparlance, it can mean a germ or elemental aspect, or a fusing together of two parts (seeMoser, Musik Lexicon, 1955). Possibly the translator meant to imply “retrogression tomore basic material.” In any case, Schumann’s meaning here is far from clear: perhapsSchumann just liked the material of the second part of variation 6.84For the letter actually sent to Brahms, see Clara Schumann, Johannes Brahms:Briefe, ed. Berthold Litzmann (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hartel, 1927), 1: 36-37. Herethe English reader has several translations from which to choose—all of them flawed,and some verging on the nonsensical: May, 1: 177; Ostwald Inner Voices, 288; andLitzmann Letters, 1:15.A brief article by Karl Geiringer in The Listener for June 8, 1939 (“New Lighton Schumann’s Last Years,” p. 1237) suggests that a page of notes made by Schumannas he was working on the letter to Brahms reveals the true impact of op. 9 onSchumann. The sheet contains a list of some successful performances of his largerworks, and the margin is full of figures which with a little decoding “speak a clearlanguage.” Says Geiringer, “They show [Schumann] deeply stirred by the genius ofyoung Brahms, attempting to overcome the consciousness of his own incapacity byrecalling past achievements and invoking mystical pictures of further great deeds in thecoming years.”32. Letter to Schumann of December 2, 1854; trans. in Litzmann, Letters, 1:18.33. Litzmann, Artist’s LzTh, 2:97.34. Ibid., 2: 103; and Reich, 198.35. Ostwald, Inner Voices, 279.36. Litzmann, Letters, 1:19.37. Ostwald, “Healing Power,” 290.38. Dale, 78.39. Sisman, 141.40. Musgrave, 26.41. Ibid.42. Siegfried Kross, “Brahms and E.T.A. Hoffmann,” 19th-Century Music 5/3 (Spring 1982),198.43. Chissell, Schumann Piano Music, 44.44. Kross, “Hoffmann,” 199.45. Sisman, 146.46. See Kross, “Hoffmann,” 199-200; also his “Brahms und Schumann,” in Brahms-Studien(Hamburg: Karl Dieter Wagner, 1983), 4: 7-44.47. Malcolm MacDonald, 33.8548. Ibid.49. Litzmann, Briefe, 2: 344; trans. in Eric Sams, “Brahms and his Clara Themes,” MT 112(May 1971): 432-33.CHAPTER FIVE: DETAILED REMARKS ON THE BRAHMS VARIATIONS1. The appearance of the repeated C s in the bass of variation 1 foreshadows Brahms’later Haydn Variations, where the first variation also picks up on the tolling repeatednotes of the theme.2. Sisman, 148.3. Litzmann, Artist’s Lifi, 2: 87.4. Neighbour, 267.5. Mary Evans Johnson, “Characteristic Metrical Anomalies in the Instrumental Music ofRobert Schumann: A Study of Rhythmic Intention” (Ph.D. diss., University ofOklahoma, 1979), 92.6. Sisman, 148.7. Ibid., 147-48.8. Olivier Messiaen, The Technique ofMy Musical Language, trans. John Satterfield (Paris:Leduc, 1944), 1: 36.9. Cummings, 277-78.10. Neighbour, 267.11. Letter of October 11, 1857; trans. in Sisman, 145 n.12. The accented syncopations of the inner voice combine with the offbeat entries of thebass to shift the metric weight off the written downbeats, while the phrasing and theplacement of the lowest bass notes simultaneously confirm the written metre.13. Musgrave is incorrect when he asserts (p. 27) that all of the canons are strict. The altoanswer in variation 10 is considerably altered, and all the other canons contain minorchanges.14. Eugen Tetzel, “Die Schumann-Variationen von Brahms: Eine musikalische Analyse,”ZeitschrzftfurMusik 96/6 (June 1929): 314.15. Ibid. The word in German is “gluckstrahlende.”8616. Neighbour, 268.17. Ibid.18. Ibid., 269.19. Hugh Macdonald, 228.20. Ibid., 222.21. Ibid., 227.22. Geiringer, L/’e ofBrahms, 211.23. Detlef Kraus, Johannes Brahms: Composer for the Piano, trans. Lillian Lim(Wilhelmshaven: Noetzel, 1988), 58.24. Tetzel, 316.25. Lacroix-Novaro, 92.26. Matthews, 26.27. Crowder, 25.28. Hugo Leichtentritt, Musical Form (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 240.29. Malcolm MacDonald, 83.30. William Murdoch, Brahms: With an Analytical Study of the Complete Pianoforte Works(London: Rich and Cowan, 1933), 224.31. Chissell, Schumann Piano Works, 48.BIBLIOGRAPHYBecker, Claudia Stevens. “A New Look at Schumann’s Impromptus.” Musical Quarterly 67(1981): 568-86Brown, Thomas Alan. The Aesthetics ofRobert Schumann. Westport, Conn.: GreenwoodPress, 1968.Bruyck, Karl Debrois van. “Federst{rjiche zur Charakterisierung des gegenwartigen Standesder Tonkunst in einigen ihrer renom[m]ierten Vertreter.” Wiener Zeitung, September25, 1857.Burton, Anna M. “A Psychoanalyst’s View of Clara Schumann” and “Robert Schumann andClara Wieck—A Creative Partnership.” In Psychoanalytic Explorations in Music, ed.Stuart Feder, Richard L. Karmel, and George H. Pollock, 97-114, 44 1-64. Madison,Conn: International Universities Press, 1990.Chissell, Joan. Brahms. London: Faber, 1977.Clara Schumann: A Dedicated Spirit. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1983.________Schumann Piano Music. BBC Music Guides. London: British BroadcastingCorporation, 1972.Crowder, Louis. “Brahms’ Early Tribute to the Schumanns.” Clavier 5/7 (December 1966):18-25.Cummings, Craig. “Large-scale Coherence in Selected Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations.”Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1991.Dale, Kathleen. “The Piano Music.” In Schumann: A Symposium, ed. Gerald Abraham, 12-97. London: Oxford University Press, 1952.Danuser, Hermann. “Aspekte euler Hommage-Komposition: Zu Brahms’ SchumannVariationen op. 9.” In Brahms Analysen, ed. Friedhelm Krummacher and WolframSteinbeck, 91-106. Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1984.8788Evans, Edwin. Handbook to the Pianoforte W/orks ofJohannes Brahms. London: W. Reeves,1936.Fiske, Roger. “A Schumann Mystery.” Musical Times 105 (August 1964): 574-78.Floros, Constantin. Brahms and Bruckner: Studien zur musikalischen Exegetik. 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London: Bell and Sons, 1888.Hull, Kenneth Ross. “Brahms the Allusive: Extra-compositional Reference in theInstrumental Music of Johannes Brahms.” Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1989.Jacobs, Robert L. “Schumann and Jean Paul.” Music & Letters 30 (1949): 250-58.Jansen, F. Gustav. Die Davisbündler: aus Robert Schumanns Sturm and Drang.periode.Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1883.Joachim, Joseph. Lettersfrom and toJosephJoachim. Selected and translated by Nora Bickley.London: Macmillan, 1914.Kraus, Detlef. Johannes Brahms: Composer for the Piano. Translated by Lillian Lim.Wilhelmshaven: Noetzel, 1988.Kross, Siegfried. “Brahms and E.T.A. Hoffmann.” 19th-Centuy Music 5/3 (Spring 1982): 193-200.“Brahms und Schumann.” In Brahms-Studien 4: 7-44. Hamburg: Karl DieterWagner, 1981.89Lacroix-Novaro, Yves. “De Schumann a Brahms.” La Revue Musicale 17/163 (February 1936):89-94.Leichtentritt, Hugo. Musical Form. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967.Litzmann, Berthold. Clara Schumann: An Artists Lzj. Translated and abridged by Grace E.Hadow. London: Macmillan, 1913; reprint, New York: Vienna House, 1972, 2 vols.________Clara Schumann: em Künstlerleben. Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1906, 3 vols.Macdonald, Hugh. “G Lv.” 19th.Centu’y Music 11/3 (Spring 1988): 221-37.MacDonald, Malcolm. Brahms. London: Dent, 1990.Marston, Nicholas. Schumann Fantasie, op. 17. Cambridge Music Handbooks, ed. JulianRushton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.Matthews, Denis. Brahms Piano Music. BBC Music Guides. London: British BroadcastingCorporation, 1978.May, Florence. The Life ofJohannes Brahms. London: William Reeves, n.d., 2 vols.McCorkle, Margit L. Johannes Brahms: Thematisch-Bibliographisches Werkverzeichnis. Munich:Henle, 1984.Monelle, Raymond. Linguistics and Semiotics in Music. Contemporary Music Studies, ed.Nigel Osborne. Chur, Switzerland: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1992.Murdoch, William. Brahms: With an Analytical Study of the Complete Pianoforte Works.London: Rich and Cowan, 1933.Musgrave, Michael. The Music ofBrahms. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985.Neighbour, Oliver. “Brahms and Schumann: Two Opus Nines and Beyond.” 19th CentinyMusic 7/3 (April 1984): 266-70.Newcomb, Anthony. “Once More ‘Between Absolute and Program Music’: Schumann’sSecond Symphony.” l9th.Centuiy Music 7/3 (April 1984): 233-50.Ostwald, Peter. “Johannes Brahms, Solitary Altruist.” In Brahms and His World, ed. WalterFrisch, 23-35. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990._•Robert Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius. Boston: NortheasternUniversity Press, 1985.90________“The Healing Power of Music: Some Observations on the Semiotic Function ofTransitional Objects.” In The Semiotic Bridge: Trends from Calzfornia, ed. IrmengardRauch and Gerald F. Carr, 279-96. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1989.Pascall, Robert. “Musikalische Einflüsse auf Brahms.” Osterreichische Musikzeitschrzft 38 (1983):228-35.Plantinga, Leon B. Schumann as Critic. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967.Quigley, Thomas. Johannes Brahms: An Annotated Bibliography of the Literature Through1982. Metuchen, New Jersey: Scarecrow Press, 1990.Rehberg, Paula and Walter. Robert Schumann: sein Leben und sein Werk. Zurich: ArtemisVerlag, 1954.Reich, Nancy B. Clara Schumann: The Artist and the Woman. Ithaca: Cornell UniversityPress, 1985.Sams, Eric. “Brahms and his Clara Themes.” Musical Times 112, (May 1971): 432-34.___ •“Did Schumann Use Ciphers?” Musical Times 106 (August 1965): 584-91.“The Schumann Ciphers.” Musical Times 107 (May 1966): 392-400.“The Schumann Ciphers: A Coda.” Musical Times 107 (December 1966): 1050-51.The Songs ofRobert Schumann. London: Eulenburg Books, 1969._“The Tonal Analogue in Schumann’s Music.” Proceedings of the Royal MusicalAssociation 96 (1969-70): 103-17.Schumann, Clara, and Johannes Brahms. Letters of Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms.Edited by Berthold Litzmann. New York: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1927, 2 vols.Schumann, Robert. The Letters of Robert Schumann. Edited by Karl Storck, translated byHannah Bryant. New York: Dutton and Co., 1907.Music and Musicians. Translated by Fanny Raymond Ritter. London: W. Reeves,1877.Susskind, Pamela. “Clara Wieck Schumann as Pianist and Composer: A Study of her Lifeand Works.” Ph.D. diss., University of California at Berkeley, 1977.Tetzel, Eugen. “Die Schumann-Variationen von Brahms: Eine musikalische Analyse.”Zeitschrift für Musik 96/6 (June 1929): 311-16.91Walker, Alan, ed. Robert Schumann: The Man and his Music. London: Barrie and Jenkins,1972.—0t‘10 Cl)(Ipc8 IF’ C..)P0C..)Cl)Cl)nI-...Cl)Cl) n,-..0CD (D’t..I-ot—0Cl)(T1.‘. •0k c.•_••IH-•i•%I‘“n’,‘Øjjjzii.I fl2i


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