Schumann: Piano Quartet in E flat, Op.47 (1842)

Sostenuto assai – Allegro ma non troppo
Scherzo:- Molto vivace
Andante cantabile
Finale:- Vivace

The marriage between Robert Schumann and Clara Wieck must surely have been one of the most famous and creative of all such unions between two great artists. From posterity’s point of view the consequences were particularly happy – although it is not easy to be certain just how many of Schumann’s compositions were a direct result of her inspiration, nor (perhaps more importantly) how much her presence affected the nature of his musical style. But Schumann was a being incapable of half-heartedness when something really mattered to him, such that the passion he felt for her shines through so much of his music in a quite unmistakable way. Berlioz (whose emotional capacity was certainly equal to Schumann’s) was once asked which he considered to be the greater, Music or Love. His reply was to the effect that whereas music has the power to express love, love can give no idea of music. Such a sentiment could find no more substantial proof than the year of the Schumanns’ marriage (1840), which witnessed a miraculous outpouring of Lieder. The same almost certainly applies to the period which followed: the “Symphony year” of 1841, which gave rise to both the Spring and D minor symphonies, as well as the Overture, Scherzo, and Finale (Op.52), plus the original first movement (Phantasie) of the piano concerto; and then the summer of 1842, when he wrote the three string quartets, as well as the quintet and the quartet for piano and strings, plus the Fantasiestücke for piano trio (Op.88).

If Schumann’s career benefitted hugely from his marriage, the same was not always true of Clara’s: apart from domestic chores – including the production of a seemingly endless number of children – it was necessary at home for her to subordinate her work to her husband’s: in practical terms this meant that she could not practise the piano when he was composing. Yet her fame at this time far exceeded his, and this was often cruelly apparent when they went away on tours together. After one such trip to Northern Germany, early in 1842, she continued alone to Copenhagen and another series of successful concerts. Robert returned home, and their parting was agonising. While she was away he was far too depressed to compose; instead, he studied counterpoint and fugue, plus the string quartets of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Clara’s homecoming was as joyful as her parting from him had been painful, and the result in musical terms was comparable with the “Song Year” of 1840.

The idea of writing string quartets had interested him since 1838, but now his study of the Viennese masters, together with the tremendous emotional uplift of his wife’s return, was more than enough to set his imagination on fire again. In just five weeks during May and June he had finished all three quartets, and he was himself unusually pleased with them. His intellectual resources had certainly been tested, both in the handling of a medium new to him, and also in the manipulating of an extended musical form – at least as much so as when composing symphonies the previous year. However, he was invariably at his best when composing for the piano – in one form or another: the volume of music he produced up to the “Symphony Year” speaks for itself. His own gifts as a pianist (eventually thwarted by the infamous self-inflicted accident to his left hand) inevitably equipped him with that familiarity with the instrument which counts for so much, whilst the playing of Clara herself naturally provided a vital extra stimulus (not to mention the occasional cause for envy…). So it was a happy decision to follow his mastering of the string quartet medium with two works which embraced all of these attributes. Of course, it is the quintet which has achieved an almost disproportionate celebrity; and indeed it does seem to be one of those rare works which demonstrate near-perfection by whatever criteria one chooses to apply. Yet the piano quartet, following hard on its heels in November, is in many ways the more daringly ambitious and original of the two – and contains in its Andante one of the greatest and most memorable melodies ever written for the cello (which, fortunately, is eventually shared with the other two string players!). The forerunners of this work may well have been the two piano quartets of Mozart (Kk.478 and 493), although to judge by the opening of Schumann’s Allegro he might also have had in mind the corresponding passage from Beethoven’s third “Rasumovsky” quartet. In both quintet and quartet Schumann has laid considerable emphasis on thematic unity, such that he will frequently transform certain melodies with striking ingenuity to suit different moods and situations – or even across separate movements, such as when the hauntingly ethereal final section of the Andante, with its hollow unison resonances, is suddenly metamorphosed into the arresting opening of the finale. And with what energy, resourcefulness, and sheer exuberance is this subject itself exploited via all manner of stretti and fugati! Similarly the unearthly string chorale, which forms the introduction to the whole piece, suddenly bursts in upon itself with joyful abandon as the main subject of the ensuing Allegro: Beethoven’s “inner logic” decidedly at work here.

It has been a salutary experience to perform and record both the piano quartet and quintet with a Viennese Graf fortepiano of 1826, more or less identical to the one owned by Clara herself (CD available from the writer). Above all we have learnt that the quintet in particular could never have been the massive symphonic barnstormer that experience of the great quintets of Franck and Elgar has tended to turn it into, for so many exponents. Certainly there are big gestures in both works, but these have to be realised on a truly “chamber” scale, without recourse to sheer sonic impact.

© Alan George
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