Papillons, Op. 2

By the time he came to write Papillons (Butterflies, 1831) a few months later, Schumann had already discovered a more promising direction. In an 1829 letter he identified his twin idols: writer Jean Paul and composer Franz Schubert. And though the literary inspiration—Jean Paul’s ironic and carnivalesque novel Flegeljahre—factors into the overall structure, the sweep of Schubert’s waltzes provides the basic musical trigger for each successive number. The Papillons are laid out as twelve “numbers” plus an introduction. Ample thematic connections between the numbers suggest a theme-and-variations form, but it is the sparkling contrast that carries the day. No. 1 suggests the break from the chrysalis, as it were. Schumann’s main theme takes wing on a graceful, undulating line. Thereafter we confront a myriad of figures—from Old Bach in the quasi-fugue (No. 3) and fleet-fingered Mendelssohn (No. 7), to generic wood sprites (Nos. 2 and 4). No. 10 alone moves from romantic horn calls through a recollection of the imperious No. 6 to a sweeping evocation of Chopin’s bel canto style! Such manic shifts from frivolity to earnestness should not be over-interpreted as foreboding Schumann’s eventual insanity. Rather, they merely signify youthful caprice, the spirit of Jean Paul’s masked ball.
Despite numerous examples of circular reminiscence in works both before and after Papillons, Schumann’s effortless return to the earlier rising theme (No. 1) in the finale remains touching. He then counterpoints this motto with the horncall figure. In a direct parallel to the novel, Schumann gradually truncates the rising theme as the characters recede into the distance, and six high A-naturals chime the early morning hour at which Jean Paul’s curious tale ends. The process of crafting interconnected cycles of piano pieces would help Schumann envision the narrative structures of his next great work, Carnaval.

(c) Jason Stell