Frauenliebe und Leben, Op. 42

After arriving on the scene as gifted child pianist, Robert Schumann also revealed a passion for literature (sparked, no doubt, by being the son of a bookseller). In 1821, at age 11—how different things were back then!—he left home to begin studying law in Leipzig, though he spent more time socializing with girls, poets, and composers. He maintained the façade of being a law student for nearly ten years before he finally came clean and openly pursued his musical talent. That was 1830; he had already written the bulk of his piano works, still standard concert repertory today. Frustrated in his pianistic ambitions by muscular problems in his hands, Schumann flourished as a writer both of compositions and brilliant, witty, and progressive essays. As founding editor of the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, he combined rare musical insight with a lifelong passion for letters. Another passion emerged at this time, however, that brought Schumann both great joy and great pain. He had fallen in love with 16-year-old Clara Wieck, daughter of his Leipzig piano teacher. Forbidden to meet by Clara’s father, the lovers pledged themselves to each other in Shakespearean fashion. Herr Wieck never acquiesced, and Robert and Clara were married in 1840 without his consent and after much legal wrangling.
The effect on Schumann was immediate and profound: during 1840 alone, he wrote nearly 100 lieder, including his two finest multi-song collections, Dichterliebe (to poetry by Heine) and Frauenliebe und –leben (texts by Chamisso). These sets essentially define the modern idea of a “song cycle,” which involves direct tonal (key) relationships between successive songs, musical allusions or recollections from one song to another, and—critically—a chronological progression of action over the course of the poems. To quote Charles Rosen, a musical cycle is “a monodrama, in which there is a single speaker and at least the skeletal suggestion of a narrative” (The Romantic Generation, p. 208). The narrative of Frauenliebe und –Leben, constructed by a male poet, is also idealized from a man’s perspective. It shows a woman’s world that begins when she first sees her future husband (song 1) and ends in desolation when he dies (song 8). This scenario seems chauvinistic, though we might remember that many more poetic collections—usually written by men, e.g., Wilhelm Müller’s Die schöne Müllerin—turn the tables, so that a man’s happiness or misery, even his every existence, are contingent upon the affections of a woman.
In any case, the eight songs of Frauenliebe und –leben (Woman’s Love and Life) tell distinct yet connected tales from a woman’s life. Song 1 tells how the protagonist is blinded to all but the man she loves; in her coming-of-age, she has left behind the pleasures of her sisterly games. Schumann sets the two stanzas to the same music. The piano doubles the voice by and large, though Schumann wonderfully liberates the voice for the latter portion of each stanza. A curious evaded cadence accompanies the end of each textual strophe, and one might also note the large leap downward at “tiefste” (deepest). Song 2 unfolds as an AABA rounded design, and its prevailing martial rhythm celebrates the nobility of the beloved. Signals of closure at the end of the second A section are a red herring, and section B functions much like a miniature development, ending on the dominant of D. From there Schumann transitions back toward the tonic key (E-flat) for his reprise of A.
Song 3 is marked by frequent changes in mood and tempo, and the composer’s musical evocation of the text’s overall message (“I can’t believe he loves me! ”) seems right on. These fluctuations mimic a dream state—hope mixed with unbelief—while the literal return of section A’s music and text works as a depiction of the woman’s circular thoughts. Song 4 provides the lyrical heart of the entire cycle. Schumann establishes mood through key selection (E-flat major conveys to me a certain warmth and “golden-brown” tone), use of middle register, and frequent emphasis in the vocal line on the chordal third. The form is a clear AABA. Chromatic details show that here, even in this radiant spell of musing on the marriage band, one mood is never unalloyed with its opposite.
Song 5, the most active of the set, evokes the exuberant and frantic emotions of the wedding morning. The bride is bustling about asking her sisters to help wind a garland of myrtle and keep foolish fears away. Essentially an AABA structure, Schumann alters the final A section midcourse by inserting new material not heard elsewhere. This diversion begins at “Aber euch, Schwestern” (But you, dear sisters…), and the chromatic harmony expresses the bride’s conflicting emotions as she must “gladly, sadly” leave her unwed sisters behind. The poignant chromaticism of song 6 touches a deep emotional spot, for here the young wife now recognizes the signs of new life within her. Dramatic intensity is strongest in the B section of this AABA form. Schumann begins building toward a highpoint over the course of the third stanza; at this point she has just confessed her secret and gives free vent to her pent-up emotion. But rather than spilling it all in a climactic highpoint, he relies on a chromatic chord progression played by the piano to resolve the tension, as it were, internally and without words. That gesture wonderfully captures Schumann’s character/tempo indication for the song, “mit innigem Ausdruck” (with inner expression). This moment is the hallmark of one of the 19th-century’s great musical poets.
Song 7 rushes past in the bliss of new life: a son has been born, and a few fleeting chromatic inflections in the vocal line cannot quell the mother’s obvious strength and delight. How different is the musical world opened up by song 8, the final piece in the cycle. Utter desolation replaces joy; new life has been trumped by a husband’s early death. Schumann’s chordal texture seems stark and oppressive after the rapid of arpeggios of the preceding number. But rather than ending Frauenliebe und –leben in a spirit of darkness, Schumann revisits the basic theme of song 1. It is an evocative postlude for piano solo, and with the absence of the voice we realize that we are inside the woman’s mind. Memories alone remain of a time when first love, true love, made life seem unbounded and worth living.

(c) Jason Stell