The dialogue between words and music, which finds its climax in texted songs, has also an important declination in terms of the intertwining of music and literature. This became particularly clear in the Romantic era, and the figure which possibly embodies in a paradigmatic fashion this dialogue is that of Robert Schumann.
For years he wavered between the world of literature and that of music, and he kept writing “words” throughout his life, founding a journal of which he was the editor, and inspiring many readers with his deep insights.
Literature and music were not two separate fields in Schumann’s mind and oeuvre. Many of his instrumental works are clearly and declaredly inspired by literary creations, and also within his own output there is a profound connection, typically represented by the figures of “Florestan” and “Eusebius”. These two pen-names represent the two sides of Schumann’s personality and artistic vein. “Florestan” is the irruent, restless, reckless, bold, and extroverted aspect; “Eusebius” the pious, reflective, contemplative, calm, poetic, and dreamy.
However, these two antithetic figures (which are, still, twin brothers) represent two sides of the Romantic soul, as expressed also by another influential author of the same period, the poet and musician E. T. A. Hoffmann. In his Princess Brambilla, Fantasy is defined as the “realm that the human mind rules in true life and existence according to its free will, to delight in an entirely unique way”. It is identified with the character of Giacinta, of whom it is written: “I could say that you are fantasy, whose wings require humor in order to soar, but without the body of humor, you would be nothing but wings, drifting away—a plaything of the winds—in the air”. Fantasy and Humor are two other poles of human creativity, and they could well be represented in turn by Eusebius and Florestan respectively.
It is in this sense that the word Fantasie is to be understood in the works performed in this Da Vinci Classics album. Of course, keyboard Fantasies had already a long and august history of their own prior to the nineteenth century, forming a musical genre (although one which was without a defined form… by definition). However, in the works recorded here we can and should point out this double reference to the world of literature: Ballades make reference to a poetic genre, epic and passionate at the same time; Fantasies are works in which this “realm” of the “human mind’s […] free will” opens up, spreading its “wings”, lifted up by “humor”.
Hoffmann, who authored these words, was a composer in his own right, and his writings – crucial for German Romantic culture – are interspersed with references to this art. In particular, one of Hoffmann’s creations would become iconic for the very self-interpretation of the Romantic musician and composer. It was the figure of “Kapellmeister Kreisler”, who is found in several of Hoffmann’s works, and who represented the essence of Romanticism in music. Significantly, the book where Kreisler is most significantly present is Hoffmann’s Phantasiestücke in Callots Manier (1814-5), with one more reference to “Fantasy”.
Both Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms, although belonging in two different generations, saw Kreisler as their alter ego, as a fictional creation who helped them to interpret their own vocation.
In his late twenties, when Schumann was passionately hoping to marry Clara Wieck, an extremely talented pianist and composer who was nine years his junior, another of the many piano cycles written in his youthful years came to light. It was to be called Kreisleriana, and, interestingly, Schumann seems to disclose that the title came to his mind before the actual pieces (whilst normally with him it was the other way around). He wrote: “Only Germans will be able to understand the title [Kreisleriana]. Kreisler is a figure created by E. T. A. Hoffmann, an eccentric, untamed, witty Kapellmeister. There are many things about him that you will like”.
Schumann’s Kreisleriana came to light by stages, seemingly in two parts. Writing to Clara Wieck, on April 14th, 1838, the composer stated: “In [Kreisleriana], you and an idea of you will play the main role, and I wish to dedicate it to you – yes, to you and to no-one else. – You will smile so sweetly when you recognize yourself in it”. The association between Clara (or a “thought” or an “idea”) of her and Kreisleriana recurs in Schumann’s letters and diaries, and the dedication to her was also contained in the proposal for Kreisleriana’s publication he first sent to a publisher. Later, however, on Clara’s pleading, he removed that (public) dedication, which would likely have further exacerbated Clara’s father, who was fiercely against Robert and Clara’s love.
Eventually, Schumann published Kreisleriana with a dedication to Frédéric Chopin, whom he befriended and highly esteemed; Chopin would reciprocate the following year, dedicating his own Ballade op. 38 to Schumann.
Fast forward to 1854. Clara and Robert had been happily married, and their family blessed with numerous children and lots of music. But Robert had developed a serious mental illness, which, in the end, made it necessary for him to be hospitalized in Endenich. Clara was left with their children, with a broken heart, and with all kinds of worries. Within that situation, the support of a friend was essential for her, and she found that friend in the young Johannes Brahms, who was 21 at the time. Brahms had been an intimate friend of the family for some time, following the warm reception given by the couple to him and to his exceptional talent. Now he was ready to support Clara, of whom he would remain an affectionate friend throughout their lives (they would die within a few months from each other).
During Robert’s time at Endenich, Brahms had written a collection of Balladen, op. 10, which he would dedicate to his friend Julius Otto Grimm. Here too, however, the implied dedication was to Clara, as Grimm himself quickly noticed, writing to the composer: “But has Mme Schumann also authorized this dedication? For the Ballades owe their true genesis to her. But you would surely not have done this without her approval, so I thus gain a twofold dedication”. Both these, and the Variations on a theme by Robert Schumann bearing the preceding opus number (op. 9), are in fact closely connected with Robert’s wife and Johannes’ friend Clara. Actually, Brahms had planned to publish a collection of pieces (including op. 9) under the title Leaves from the Diary of a Musician. Edited by the Young Kreisler, echoing the similarly titled Leaves from the Diary of a Travelling Enthusiast, penned – once more – by Hoffmann. Although Brahm’s lifelong friend Joseph Joachim persuaded him to abandon this plan, the connection with Hoffmann is very powerful also in this case.
The Ballades were presented by Joachim to Schumann for Christmas, 1854, and by the following Epiphany Robert wrote enthusiastically about them: “How wonderful the first [piece] is, absolutely new. […] The ending is beautiful – strange! The second how different, how varied, richly exciting the imagination; enchanted passages occur within it. The concluding bass F# seems to introduce the third Ballade. How shall we describe it? Demonic – absolutely superb, and how increasingly mysterious it becomes after the pp of the Trio, which itself is completely transfigured; then the return to the main movement, and the conclusion. In the fourth Ballade, how beautiful that the strange opening melody note sways, to the end, between minor and major, and stays wistfully in the major”.
Nearly forty years later, in 1892, Brahms and Clara were nearing the end of their lives. Brahms now limited his compositional activity to the summer months, and the roaring virtuosity and passionate spirit which had characterized his early piano works had made room for a sound of exquisite poetry, melancholy, and refinement. Clara was told that Brahms had written some new piano pieces by her pupil Ilona Eibenschütz, who was on holiday at Bad Ischl, where Brahms also was spending the summer. She politely asked him to send her a copy; Brahms obliged immediately with the Fantasien op. 116, whilst some more time was required for the Intermezzi op. 117. Clara was enthused by them, which she found “wonderfully original”. She also recorded in her diary: “Thanks to these pieces, I once again felt my soul being traversed by the life of music. I can still play with sincere abandon, and I have returned to Robert’s piano music with renewed enthusiasm”. The circle thus closes: from Hoffmann to Robert, to Clara, to Johannes, and back to Robert, in Clara’s reverent and affectionate memory. Just as happens with a literary masterpiece, these musical works were able to lead fantasy on the path of remembrance, and to support the elaboration of mourning, transfiguring grief and sorrow into a pattern of beauty and hope.
Chiara Bertoglio © 2025
Brahms, Schumann: Balladen und Fantasien
