Schumann: Symphony No.4 in D minor, Op.120 (1841/51)
Ziemlich langsam – Lebhaft
Romanze:- Ziemlich langsam
Scherzo:- Lebhaft
Langsam – Lebhaft – Presto
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 language. 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 truly miraculous outpouring of Lieder. The same almost certainly applies to the period which followed: the “Symphony Year” of 1841 gave rise to both the Spring and D minor symphonies, as well as the Overture, Scherzo, and Finale, plus the original first movement (Phantasie) of the piano concerto.
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. And so it is that an entry in their joint diary, on 31st May 1841, announces that “He has begun a new symphony. As yet I have heard nothing about it, but from Robert’s way of going on, and D minor sounding wildly in the distance, I know that another work is being created in the depths of his soul.”
In fact, the symphony was intended as a secret birthday present for her, and was duly presented as such on 13th September, and subsequently performed at the Leipzig Gewandhaus on 6th December. However, it was not so well received as his first symphony had been – possibly through being overshadowed in the concert by solo appearances from both Clara and Liszt. It is also likely that the audience found it difficult and challenging; as performed that day the D minor symphony is a far more terse, less approachable work than its predecessor, more uncompromising harmonically and formally, its scoring more adventurous and radical – the players may even have found it too hard to play. Undoubtedly the original score contains passages which would have stretched some musicians to their limits – certainly the wind players. Thus, it is likely that a combination of these factors caused him to withdraw it for further revision. This re-thinking of the entire work didn’t actually happen for a further ten years, by which time the whole sound world of his music had undergone significant change – not least in his use of the orchestra. What we have now is a substantially more mellow sonority, the fiercest edges removed – much to the chagrin of some scholars and conductors, who prefer to promote Schumann’s original. Nevertheless, the 1851 version (more commonly heard, even today) has gained an impressive new level of motivic and structural subtlety, such that there is no reason at all not to see both versions as equally valid (which has now become the norm with most of the Bruckner symphonies, for example).
We know – from sketches, letters, diary entries – that even before 1841 Schumann was determined that his increasing reputation as a composer of piano pieces and songs needed to be balanced by mastery in large scale symphonic thought as well (no doubt partially inspired by his historic discovery of Schubert’s Great C major symphony in 1838), so the gestation period of his first symphony was necessarily protracted and painstaking (even though in the end the first draft took him only four days to put onto paper). But the achievement of that Frühlingssinfonieunquestionably opened the floodgates, and so we have here an undoubted masterpiece which combines to thrilling effect all the energy, passion, and generosity of No.1 with a new-found confidence to explore, through the orchestra, still greater depths and regions – both darker and sunnier – of the human spirit.
© Alan George
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