Bunte Blätter, Op.99

Ziemlich langsam (Fairly slow)

Schnell (Quick)

Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll (Fairly slow, very song-like)

Sehr langsam (Very slow)

Langsam (Slow)

The Bunte Blätter Op.99 is a collection of stray piano pieces – unpublished items accumulated over the last eighteen years or so – that Schumann originally intended to arrange in groups and issue under appropriately coloured covers. Although that idea was abandoned, the title (Coloured Pages) was retained. What colour would have been assigned to the five pieces grouped under the title Albumblätter (Pages from an Album) we do not know but there is a kind of sadness in all of them. The waltz-time Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll has a limping pathos about it. Clara Schumann, who must have wondered what had inspired such melancholy in her husband in the first or second year of their marriage in 1841, wrote a set of piano variations on it in 1853. Brahms chose the same theme for a similar tribute a year later incorporating the turbulent figuration of    Schnell in one of them. A serious study in counterpoint dating from 1838, the Sehr langsam fourth piece is unsettling in its harmonic disorientation. The comparatively simple last item in this group, Langsam – which also originated in 1838 and would not have been out of place in the Kinderszenen of the same year – combines innocence in expression with a subtle poignancy in effect.

Ziemlich langsam

Schnell

Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll

Sehr langsam

Langsam

When Schumann began to round up his stray piano pieces - unpublished items that had accumulated over the last eighteen years or so - he had only just turned forty. Even so, he must have known, or at least sensed, that he did not have very long to put his affairs in order. He issued one set of such pieces in 1852 and by the time the second set was published in 1854 he had thrown himself into the Rhine at Düsseldorf. But for the prompt action of fishermen in a nearby boat, he would have succeeded in drowning himself. Within five days of that event he was in the asylum at Endenich where he was to remain until his death two years later.

Written for various purposes and set aside for one reason or another, these stray pieces were too good to throw away but, for the most part, too short to publish in their own right. They needed a context, even if only some loosely organised anthology. Schumann’s original intention was to publish the first of the two collections under the title Spreu (or “Chaff”) which, not unnaturally, his publisher rejected. Then, to give the pieces a more precise kind of context, he thought of grouping like with like and presenting the different sections in different-coloured covers. Although that idea was also abandoned, the title that went with it, Bunte Blätter (Coloured Leaves), was retained.

When he published the second collection as Albumblätter (Album Leaves) Op.124 in 1854 Schumann must have forgotten that he had already given that title to a group of five pieces in the Bunte Blätter Op.99. It is a slightly confusing situation but the actual pieces, in both collections, are clarity itself. In some cases, on the other hand, they are not without complex emotional implications. Certainly, the first of the Albumblätter in the Op.99 set, headed Ziemlich langsam (Fairly slow), meant a lot to two musicians who knew Schumann very well. Clara Schumann, who must have wondered what had inspired such melancholy in her husband in the first or second year of their marriage in 1841, wrote a set of piano variations on it in 1853 and Brahms chose the same theme for a similar tribute a year later. Brahms was evidently moved too by the next of these five pieces, Schnell (Quick), the turbulent figuration of which he incorporated in the ninth of his sixteen variations.

There is a kind of sadness in all five of these Albumblätter. The waltz-time Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll (Fairly slow, very song-like), which sounds as though it must once have been intended for Carnaval, has a limping pathos about it. A serious study in counterpoint dating from 1838, the Sehr langsam (Very slow) fourth piece is unsettling in its harmonic disorientation. The comparatively simple last item in this group, Langsam (Slow) - which also originated in 1838 and would not have been out of place in the Kinderszenen of the same year - combines innocence in expression with a subtle poignancy in effect.

Drei Stücklein:

Nicht schnell, mit Innigkeit

Sehr rasch

Frisch

Albumblätter:

Ziemlich langsam

Schnell

Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll

Sehr langsam

Langsam

Novellette

Präludium

Marsch

Geschwindmarsch

When Schumann began to round up his stray piano pieces - he assembled thirty-four of them in all, issuing them in two collections in 1851 and 1854 respectively - he must have sensed that he did not have very long to put his affairs in order. Certainly, by the time the second set, the Albumblätter Op.124, was published he had thrown himself into the Rhine in Düsseldorf and within five days of that event he was in the asylum at Endenich where he was to remain until his death two years later.

The piano pieces themselves, the earliest of which dates from 1832, are representative of happier times. Written for various purposes and set aside for various reasons, they were too good to throw away but, for the most part, too short to publish in their own right. For the first collection Schumann thought of grouping like with like and presenting the different groups in different-coloured covers. Although that idea was abandoned, the title that went with it, Bunte Blätter (“Coloured Leaves”), was retained. The Drei Stücklein (“Three Little Pieces”), which were to have been in a green group, seem to be associated with Clara in one way or another. Certainly, the exquisitely tender first piece was originally dedicated “to my beloved bride for Christmas Eve 1838” and the second, with its passionate allusions to the theme he always associated with her, obviously has some similarly intimate significance. The third is a brief reminder of the Davidsbündlertänze Schumann wrote to celebrate their engagement in 1837.

Also a Clara inspiration, the first piece in the next group, Albumblätter (or “Album Leaves”) is so attractively and so briefly expressed that it cries out for variation treatment. Indeed, Clara Schumann herself wrote a series of variations on it (Op.20) in 1853 and so did their mutual friend Johannes Brahms (Op.9) a year later. Brahms’s Schumann Variations also make a passing reference to the next piece, a characteristic nocturnal adventure in B minor. The melodious slow waltz in A flat major, clearly once intended for Carnaval, makes a happy contrast with its haunted predecessor. There is a similar contrast between the last two pieces in the group, both of them from 1838: a seriously thoughtful study in three-part counterpoint, which conceals its E flat minor tonality almost to the end, is followed in Schumann’s ordering by a no less thoughtful but rather more charming impromptu in E flat major.

The remaining, less intimate, more substantial pieces Schumann presented separately, each one under its own title. The Novellette (a ternary construction like the next four) was written in 1838, presumably with the other Novelletten Op.21 and the Präludium apparently dates from a year later, although, in its neo-classical energy, it resembles nothing so much as the Toccata of 1834. The slow Marsch in D minor, strangely lugubrious in this generally cheerful company, is followed on this occasion by a rousing quick march inspired by the abortive revolution in Dresden in 1849.

Drei Stücklein:

Nicht schnell, mit Innigkeit

Sehr rasch

Frisch

Albumblätter:

Ziemlich langsam

Schnell

Ziemlich langsam, sehr gesangvoll

Sehr langsam

Langsam

Novellette

Präludium

Marsch

Abendmusik

Scherzo

Geschwindmarsch

[note that this requires revision, some of which has been done in file Bunte Blätter, Op.99/1-8, 10 which has a new introduction]

Schumann was neither as persistent nor as successful as Schubert in his struggle with the piano sonata. The greatest works written in the ten years (between 1830 and 1840) when he devoted himself exclusively to the piano are not the three sonatas but the collections of miniatures and the longer works constructed as informal successions of variation. When, after his marriage, he extended his interest to media other than the piano, he was very much more successful in coming to terms with sonata form. But, if you feel that the most exciting, most sympathetic and most inspired Schumann is the composer in his twenties, devoted to the piano and Clara Wieck, Bunte Blätter is a valuable bonus.

Although the collection was published in 1851 and although some of it was written only two years earlier, much of it derives from the very special decade before his marriage. Obviously, Schumann was aware of the disparity in style and most between pieces written over a period of fifteen years - hence his original idea of publishing them in groups of different coloured covers, according to their mood. The idea was abandoned but the title which went with it (“Leaves of Many Colours”) remained as an indication of the variety within.

The first “Three Little Pieces” were intended to form one group, under a green cover. The tender little piece at the beginning was written in 1839 as a Christmas greeting to Clara and the second, with its passionate allusions to the theme he always associated with her, obviously has some personal significance too. The first piece in the next group - five “Album Leaves” - is also a Clara inspiration, so attractively and so briefly expressed that, as Brahms was shortly to discover, it cries out for variation treatment. The A flat major waltz, the third in this group, was once intended for Carnaval, as is quite clear from the first three notes (A flat, C, B, spelling “Asch” in the German nomenclature). Of the next two pieces, the second is an, if possible, even more poetic variant of the first.

The last six, less intimate, more substantial pieces Schumann presented separately, each one under its own title. The Novellette (a ternary construction like the next four) was written in 1838, presumably with the other Novelletten, Op.21, and the Präludium apparently dates from a year later, although, in its neo-classical energy, it resembles nothing so much as the Toccata of 1834. The slow Marsch in D minor is a strangely lugubrious member of this generally cheerful company and, in the few bars of introduction to the next piece, Schumann takes steps to exorcise its influence by converting its heavy tread to a triple-time dance rhythm. Both Abendmusik and the Scherzo were written in the “symphony year” of 1841 and both could originally have been conceived for orchestra, although only the Scherzo is actually known to have been written for a symphony (the abandoned project in C minor). The latest piece in the collection is the last, a rousing quick march inspired (like the Four Marches, Op.76) by the abortive revolution in Dresden in 1849. It is as peculiar in its way as the slow march of 1843.