Tag Archives: Robert Schumann

Creative concentration was easier pre-technology

A postscript to the Schumann review:

It’s been interesting to read some comments about this book from reviewers out there both professional and amateur, and the one that really sticks with me is the contention that Schumann’s exceptional productivity in certain phases of his life in indicative of some sort of mania. That would put John Worthen’s contention that the composer essentially was a stable personality in question.

I was inclined to agree that he probably was some sort of bipolar — he sketched the whole First Symphony in four days — but now that I think about it, I wonder whether that’s right. If someone today were cranking the music out that fast, and certainly there are some candidates, you’d have to think they were driven by something extraordinary that made them exceed the bounds of normal creative activity.

But now I think that in this case today’s audiences are too influenced by our contemporary lives to understand how people lived in the first half of the 19th century. Alex Ross, in writing about Leonard Bernstein’s taking of a leaf from the life of Gustav Mahler in thinking that he could write music and be a conductor at the same time, made the excellent point that Mahler didn’t do talk shows and that sort of thing. He had far less pressure from technology bringing the world right to him, which allowed him to shut himself up in his composing house and write. Bernstein wasn’t so lucky.

And by the same token, Schumann was living in the first decades of his life in the early days of the Industrial Revolution, and his life ended in 1856, 20 years before the invention of the telephone. He had no technological distractions of the kind that make our lives seem so crowded, and it takes a feat of imagination to put yourself back in a time like that, when all that was required of you through the day as city dweller and not a farmer was to get to the work at hand.

So you could work, with no television in the background, no radio, no video games being played by the kids, no cars demanding constant attention, no lawnmowers to drag over the grass, no cellphones ringtoning endlessly throughout the day. You could really concentrate, and Schumann’s disciplined work habits, some learned at the feet of his successful bookselling father, made it that much easier to get the work done.

It’s an open question whether the literary and musical work of today’s writers is fatally compromised by the technological onslaught. I know when I need to finish something — and I’ve just completed the draft of a short work for organ — I don’t answer the phone or look at my e-mail. I make sure my workspace is silent and I try hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

And just as our post-penicillin mindset makes it difficult to understand a time when syphilis was endemic and leading experts could declare that it was possible to be cured, so is it very difficult to understand a time when there wasn’t anything going on except the day, and the time to be filled by creative work, or a stroll through the lindens, or an afternoon at the pub.

We have lost touch, I think, with how conducive that time was to artistic creation, and probably this, more than mania, helps explain Schumann’s remarkable creativity.

Schumann bio shows disease, not madness, claimed composer

In his biography of Robert Schumann, John Worthen has reset the terms of understanding the life and times of this great German composer. (This book came out last summer, but I’ve only now gotten around to reading it cover to cover, so I offer this review now.)

And unless other persuasive information comes to light, I’m inclined to go with his conclusion: That Robert Schumann was not in fact mentally ill in any way; he was instead the victim of syphilis, as so many urbanites were in the 19th century. He was infected as a young man, suffered strange nerve problems over the years until the tertiary stage asserted itself in 1854 with his would-be suicidal plunge into the Rhine.

The key factor that Worthen has noted in his thorough and beautifully written biography of Schumann (Robert Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician ) is the one that it’s easy for later scholars to overlook, and that is the conventional wisdom of the past. In the 1830s, for example, it was commonly believed that you could be cured of syphilis, and not until decades later was the truth of its deadly nature known.

And so it was that Schumann believed that the syphilitic infection he acquired in 1831 from a woman known only to us as Christel had dissipated, and neither he nor the physicians of the day knew that spirochetes were steadily at work on his nervous system from that point forward. It can’t be known for certain whether the illnesses he suffered after that point were attributable to his underlying syphilis, but the potency of the disease makes the idea more likely.

I am spending a lot of time on this point because if we understand Schumann as the unfortunate victim of a sexually transmitted disease in the pre-penicillin era, his whole life takes on a different coloration. Instead of the creator who cranked out an astonishing amount of music in a very short time because of his manic-depressive mindset, we instead see him as a creator trying his best to get as much money as he could for his wife and family as possible in order to make ends meet and justify the faith his wife had in him when she risked the estrangement of her father to be with the man she loved.

Instead of a man haunted by mental illness, we have a composer who suffered repeated bouts of unexplained illness that depressed him, but never critically impeded his work until 1853, when his hearing started to go seriously amiss.

Worthen, a British academic and expert on D.H. Lawrence, has here given us the biography of a hero, a man who worked extremely hard to be a success, sustained a loving marriage with seven children, and managed to turn out an exceptional amount of fine music, as well as important musical journalism, in a relatively brief life. He was undone by a disease no one understood properly until at least 30 years after his death, and given that he meticulously documented his illnesses, one must concur with Worthen’s frequent observation that Schumann’s ability to carry on with his composing in the midst of it is “amazing.”

This is a biography of Schumann’s life, not his music, as Worthen asserts in a prologue. Worthen has drawn the details from the extensive personal records of Robert and Clara Schumann, which provide an intimate, detailed picture of the lives of two of Germany’s most prominent 19th-century musicians.

Worthen divides his book into three main parts: His early life, his relationship with Clara, and his marriage and career. A brief fourth part describes Schumann’s two years in the asylum at Endenich where he died in July 1856, and an appendix includes the autopsy the asylum’s attending physician sent to Clara.

Throughout, Worthen’s tone is erudite but not suffocatingly scholarly. He writes with exceptional clarity about his subject, and he makes good use of his overall thesis by testing conventional wisdom against it:

Biographies of Clara have sometimes presented Schumann as a selfish male happy to ignore his wife’s talents and to pursue his own ambitions ….This is not a good way of thinking about a complex marriage. It was a peculiarly modern relationship: that of a couple who both wanted — and needed — to work, who both needed to spend time pursuing their own careers, who wanted to have children, too — and who also loved each other and desired to spend all the time they could together. Schumann would write about it, in March 1842, as ‘our singularly difficult situation.’

Worthen is able to back up this contention by simply looking at the record: Clara does complain about not having time to practice because Schumann was using the piano, and he quotes her remonstrations with him (in their marriage diary) about allowing her to go on tour to earn some more money for their growing household. But following the whole story shows how much give-and-take there was in the relationship.

The reader gets the sense that here were two ambitious artists who wanted to make their mark on the world, and they found a way to do so. Clara was pregnant 10 times during their 14 years of marriage (Schumann was past the infectious stage of his syphilis), and there’s no doubt her pianism suffered while she attended to her children, but then again, when touring opportunities came along, as they did in 1844 when the Schumanns traveled to Russia, she made a triumph of it: “…wherever she had gone, Clara had been acclaimed as a major pianist.”

Worthen also handles other Schumann shibboleths, many of which he contends are affected by retrospective knowledge of the end of the story. A good case in point is that of Ernestine von Fricken, to whom Schumann was engaged in 1835. He correctly notes that she has been given short shrift by other writers who considered her just a temporary way station on the road to Clara:

To put it as strongly as possible, had it not been for a small matter of legitimacy we might we have found ourselves celebrating 8 August 1835 as the day when Schumann married Ernestine von Fricken and settled down with her as his beloved, necessary companion. In which case Clara Wieck would have been no more than a very important early friend of his — not his woman of a lifetime.

Ernestine remained loyal to Schumann even after their engagement fell apart. When Clara’s father, trying to stop the union of his daughter with the composer, asked Ernestine to declare she had been engaged to Schumann, and she lied for him, saying no, “she had never had a relationship with Schumann which would allow her to ‘demand her rights.’ ” It is a mark of the thoroughness of this biography that Worthen makes even people who prove ancillary to the main story memorable.

Overall, Schumann is revealed to us as a man who worked hard and prodigiously all the years he could, despite mysterious illnesses that blighted his life. Worthen does not gloss over the blemishes, either. Although he reminds us that Schumann was considered a competent conductor when he first took over his music directorship in Dusseldorf, by the end of his tenure there his inadequacies as a leader, to say nothing of mounting illness, had taken their toll.

Schumann’s end was deeply sad, as he tried to play music in the asylum but had lost his motor coordination, which is typical with the tertiary stage of syphilis, and kept trying to write music even when his attendants denied him paper or the piano. But his life overall was a triumph, and he created a body of music that is indelibly associated with the Romantic movement and that continues to move its listeners today.

John Worthen’s biography clears away the misconception of basic mental illness and allows us to see Schumann for the impressive creator he was, no matter how lamentable and unavoidable his end.

Here’s Claudio Arrau playing the first movement of the Schumann Piano Concerto in a 1963 performance (this is one of four parts on YouTube):

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3LnbZlPpJU&hl=en&fs=1]

(Robert Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician, was published by Yale University Press in August 2007, runs 496 pages and retails for $40. It’s an absorbing read, and an essential one for devotees of composer biography.)

Housekeeping: Reviews done, and to come

I’ve yet to write anything much about upcoming events in the local classical season, but will do so in the next couple days. There are some not-to-be-missed concerts on the way, and in the next week or so I’ll start doing regular Friday previews of what’s coming for the weekend.

For the time being, my friend Larry Johnson at the South Florida Classical Review has some good ideas for concerts this weekend down Miami way. You can also read the Seraphic Fire review I did for him here.

Also, a radio man named Doug Brown out in Tulsa has launched a concert band music show called Wind & Rhythm on KWTU-88.7 FM out there. This Sunday, he’ll be talking about the Ron Nelson disc I reviewed last month. I’m glad there’s someone out there devoting radio programs to this musical niche, and I wish him every success. I’m going to try to listen in at 8 p.m. Sunday (7 p.m. in Oklahoma) to hear what he has to say.

I’ve also just finished John Worthen’s biography of Robert Schumann, and I’ll have more to say about that in the next couple days, too. It’s got important things to say about the life Schumann led and the way music history looks at him, and I greatly enjoyed it.

Just a housekeeping entry, in other words, for today. I’m trying to finish two pieces of music in the next week, and I also am working on a freelance writing project that has an imminent deadline. So it’s back to work, even on a relatively relaxed weekend.

Here’s a nice video of Pierre Fournier playing the Schumann Cello Concerto (this is the first of four parts on YouTube):

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4ggs8ZpPbg&hl=en&fs=1]