It would have been very strange indeed if two such natures as Clara
Wieck and Robert Schumann had not gravitated toward each other during
the almost constant intercourse between them which took place between
1835 and 1838. Clara, born in 1820, had been her father's pupil from her
tenderest childhood, but the development of her musical gifts was not
forced in such a way as to interfere with her health and the exuberance
of her spirits. The exacting teacher was also a tender father and a
man of ripe judgment, and he knew the bitter price which mere mental
precocity so frequently has to pay for its existence.
But the young girl's gifts were so extraordinary, and withal her
character so full of childish simplicity and gayety, that it was
difficult to think of her as of the average child phenomenon. At the age
of nine she could play Mozart's concertos, and Hummel's A minor Concerto
for the orchestra, one of the most difficult of compositions. A year
later she began to compose, and improvised without difficulty, for her
lessons in counterpoint and harmony had kept pace with her studies of
pianoforte technique. Paganini visited Leipzig at this period, and was
so astonished at the little Clara's precocious genius that he insisted
on her presence at all his concerts, and addressed her with the deepest
respect as a fellow-artist. She first appeared in public concert at
the age of eleven, in Leipzig, Weimar, and other places, playing Pixis,
Moscheles, Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and Chopin. The latter of these
composers was then almost unknown in Germany, and Clara Wieck, young
as she was, contributed largely to making him popular. A year later she
visited Paris in company with her father, and heard Chopin, Liszt, and
Kalkbrenner, who on their part were delighted with the little artist,
who, beneath the delicacy and timidity of the child, indicated
extraordinary powers. Society received her with the most flattering
approbation, and when her father allowed her to appear in concert her
playing excited the greatest delight and surprise. Her improvisation
specially displayed a vigor of imagination, a fine artistic taste, and
a well-defined knowledge which justly called out the most enthusiastic
recognition.
When Clara Wieck returned home, she gave herself up to work with fresh
ardor, studying composition under Heinrich Dorn, singing under the
celebrated Mieksch, and even violin-playing, so great was her ambition
for musical accomplishments. From 1836 to 1838 she made an extended
musical tour through Germany, and was welcomed as a musico-poetic ideal
by the enthusiasts who gathered around her. The poet Grillparzer spoke
of her as "the innocent child who first unlocked the casket in which
Beethoven buried his mighty heart," and it must be confessed that Clara
Wieck, even as a young girl, did more than any other pianist to develop
a love of and appreciation for the music of the Titan of composers.
Long before Schumann distinctly contemplated the image of Clara as
the beloved one, the half of his soul, he had divined her genius, and
expressed his opinion of her in no stinted terms of praise. When she was
as yet only thirteen, he had written of her in his journal: "As I
know people who, having but just heard Clara, yet rejoice in their
anticipation of their next occasion of hearing her, I ask, What sustains
this continual interest in her? Is it the 'wonder child' herself, at
whose stretches of tenths people shake their heads while they are amazed
at them, or the most difficult difficulties which she sportively flings
toward the public like flower garlands? Is it the special pride of
the city with which a people regards its own natives? Is it that she
presents to us the most interesting productions of recent art in as
short a time as possible? Is it that the masses understand that art
should not depend on the caprices of a few enthusiasts, who would direct
us back to a century over whose corpse the wheels of time are hastening?
I know not; I only feel that here we are subdued by genius, which men
still hold in respect. In short, we here divine the presence of a power
of which much is spoken, while few indeed possess it.... Early she
drew the veil of Isis aside. Serenely the child looks up; older eyes,
perhaps, would have been blinded by that radiant light.... To Clara
we dare no longer apply the measuring scale of age, but only that of
fulfillment.... Clara Wieck is the first German artist.... Pearls do not
float on the surface; they must be sought for in the deep, often with
danger. But Clara is an intrepid diver."
The child whose genius he admired ripened into a lovely young woman, and
Schumann became conscious that there had been growing in his heart for
years a deep, ardent love. He had fancied himself in love more
than once, but now he felt that he could make no mistake as to the
genuineness of his feelings. In 1836 he confessed his feelings to the
object of his affections, and discovered that he not only loved but
was loved, for two such gifted and sympathetic natures could hardly be
thrown together for years without the growth of a mutual tenderness.
The marriage project was not favored by Papa Wieck, much as he liked the
young composer who had so long been his pupil and a member of his family
circle. The father of Clara looked forward to a brilliant artistic
career for his daughter, perhaps hoped to marry her to some serene
highness, and Schumann's prospects were as yet very uncertain. So he
took Clara on a long artistic journey through Germany, with a view of
quenching this passion by absence and those public adulations which he
knew Clara's genius would command. But nothing shook the devotion of
her heart, and she insisted on playing the compositions of the young
composer at her concerts, as well as those of Beethoven, Liszt, and
Chopin, the latter two of whom were just beginning to be known and
admired.
Hoping to overcome Papa Wieck's opposition by success, Schumann took
his new journal to Vienna, and published it in that city, carrying on
simultaneously with his editorial duties active labors in composition.
The attempt to better his fortunes in Vienna, however, did not prove
very successful, and after six months he returned again to Leipzig.
Schumann's generous sympathy with other great musicians was signally
shown in his very first Vienna experiences, for he immediately made
a pious pilgrimage to the Währing cemetery to offer his pious gift of
flowers on the graves of Beethoven and Schubert. On Beethoven's grave
he found a steel pen, which he preserved as a sacred treasure, and used
afterward in writing his own finest musical fancies. He remembered, too,
that the brother of Schubert, Ferdinand, was still living in a suburb
of Vienna. "He knew me," Schumann says, "from my admiration for his
brother, as I had publicly expressed it, and showed me many things. At
last he let me look at the treasures of Franz Schubert's compositions,
which he still possesses. The wealth that lay heaped up made me shudder
with joy, what to take first, where to cease. Among other things, he
also showed me the scores of several symphonies, of which many had never
been heard, while others had been tried, but put back, on the score of
their being too difficult and bombastic." One of these symphonies, that
in C major, the largest and grandest in conception, Schumann chose
and sent to Leipzig, where it was soon afterward produced under
Mendelssohn's direction at one of the Ge-wandhaus concerts, and produced
an immediate and profound sensation. For the first time the world
witnessed, in a more expanded sphere, the powers of a composer the very
beauties of whose songs had hitherto been fatal to his general success.
During this period of Schumann's life the most important works he
composed were the "Études Symphoniques," the famous "Carnival" dedicated
to Liszt, the "Scenes of Childhood," the "Fantasia" dedicated to Liszt,
the "Novellettes," and "Kreisleriana." As he writes to Heinrich Dorn:
"Much music is the result of the contest I am passing through for
Clara's sake." Schumann's compositions had been introduced to the public
by the gifted interpretation of Clara Wieck, with whom it was a labor of
love, and also by Franz Liszt, then rising almost on the top wave of his
dazzling fame as a virtuoso. Liszt was a profound admirer of the less
fortunate Schumann, and did everything possible to make him a favorite
with the public, but for a long time in vain. Liszt writes of this as
follows: "Since my first knowledge of his compositions I had played many
of them in private circles at Milan and Vienna, without having succeeded
in winning the approbation of my hearers. These works were, fortunately
for them, too far above the then trivial level of taste to find a home
in the superficial atmosphere of popular applause. The public did not
fancy them, and few players understood them. Even in Leipzig, where I
played the 'Carnival' at my second Gewandhaus concert, I did not
obtain my customary applause. Musicians, even those who claimed to be
connoisseurs also, carried too thick a mask over their ears to be able
to comprehend that charming 'Carnival,' harmoniously framed as it is,
and ornamented with such rich variety of artistic fancy. I did not
doubt, however, but that this work would eventually win its place in
general appreciation beside Beethoven's thirty-three variations on a
theme by Diabelli (which work it surpasses, according to my opinion, in
melody, richness, and inventiveness)." Both as a composer and writer on
music, Schumann embodied his deep detestation of the Philistinism and
commonplace which stupefied the current opinions of the time, and he
represented in Germany the same battle of the romantic in art against
what was known as the classical which had been carried on so fiercely in
France by Berlioz, Liszt, and Chopin.