Kinderszenen, Op. 15

Although he went on to write some of the greatest vocal, chamber, and symphonic works, young Robert Schumann (1810-1856) devoted himself exclusively to the piano. Each of Schumann’s first thirty published compositions is for solo piano, including the set called Kinderszenen heard tonight. Acclaimed pianist Wilhelm Kempff regards these early pieces as “the most significant works Schumann ever wrote.” This is not to say that the music of the 1830s was always successful or that it came easily from his pen. Many unpublished sketches reveal a composer struggling to find his voice and give a particular motive its ideal musical setting.
As a teenager Schumann also revealed the literary aspirations that one might have expected from a bookseller’s son. Fortunately his father also recognized and fostered his son’s precocious musical talent. But upon his father’s death, Robert was steered toward a more practical profession (the law) at the universities of Leipzig and Heidelberg. In truth, Schumann spent more time socializing with poets and composers, learning more about love than law. He maintained the façade of being a diligent scholar for ten years before openly pursuing a career in music.
At first, Schumann was drawn by the allure of becoming a touring virtuoso like Moscheles, Paganini, or Thalberg. Ironically, he ruined his own chances for such a career by overstraining his right hand (a finger-strengthening contraption may have been partly to blame), turning instead to composition and criticism. We are certainly the richer thereby, for, Schumann likely never would have found time or inclination to pen the mature essays and works had concertizing and celebrity governed his daily routine.
As a composer, Schumann worked at a fever pitch, writing quickly and tending to work simultaneously on bunches of related compositions. We have already noted that all of his early music is for solo piano. That phase lasted from 1829, when Papillons was created, through 1839. In 1838 he produced Kinderszenen (Scenes from Childhood), Op. 15. This collection originally contained thirty movements that Schumann pared down to thirteen for publication. Initially called “Easy Pieces”, these are not technically “easy” even if their short durations and transparent textures make them seem like mere trifles, mere child’s play. Each movement received a descriptive title that Schumann suggested were “nothing more than delicate hints for execution and interpretation.” Many commentaries have remarked that Schumann’s piano works from the 1830s explore a fundamental expressive dichotomy, and Kinderszenen is no exception. Schumann himself claimed his works represented a dialectic between two personas that he named Florestan (representing the active, impassioned, virtuosic side of life) and Eusebius (symbolizing the passive, reflective, poetic).
Kinderszenen opens with a reverential glimpse at “Foreign Lands and Peoples”, but equally significant is the prominent role played by a rising 6th interval (B-G). Schumann draws attention to the high G by giving it chromatic harmonization. The following “Curious Story” sets out a contrasting topic: dotted rhythm and an energetic march-like mood. After an infectious game of “Blind Man’s Buff,” the “Pleading Child” expresses his plaint with the familiar rising 6th motive. Ascending and descending lines evoke wavering emotions, and the unresolved final dissonance (A major with G-natural on top) suggests the premature end to the child’s reverie. That dissonance, in fact, prepares the modulation D major for the fifth piece, “Happy Enough,” which also features the rising 6th interval. Culminating with the robust “Important Event,” the opening six movements can be regarded as a single unit held together by tonal connections (G, D, and A being related by perfect fifths) and their focus on two recurring motives.
Piece no. 7, the justly famous “Träumerei” or “Dreaming,” embodies the most Eusebius-like spirit of the entire collection. Schumann turns markedly to F major for this simple song form. The theme features a rising 4th interval, colorful harmony, and subtle inner-voice counterpoint that enriches the tender lyricism. It flows seamlessly into the next number (“At the Hearth”), which shares the same key and opening interval as “Dreaming.” The “Knight of the Hobbyhorse” typifies Schumann’s other persona, riding roughshod directly into the “Almost Too Serious” melancholy of piece no. 10. The constant syncopations unfold against inner-voice counterpoint in the distant key of G-sharp minor.
With the arrival of “Frightening,” Schumann lands back in the E minor / G major world from which he had begun. “Frightening” vacillates between tender chromatic material and chords played in fast alternation between the two hands. This E-minor mood continues directly into “Child Falling Asleep” where the meditative mood draws almost imperceptibly on the syncopated rhythms Schumann has been using. Its final incomplete cadence opens the door to “The Poet Speaks.” Written largely in imitation of a sacred chorale, this final movement also touches on unaccompanied recitative; the parallel to Beethoven’s Tempest Piano Sonata may be noted. Its greatest feat is in bringing all of the preceding contrasts and flurry of activity to a reposeful conclusion, placing the entire Kinderszenen within the calmly guiding hands of the poet. For it is the poet, to judge by Schumann’s opinions on the matter, who would become the priest of the modern world.

(c) Jason Stell