Dichterliebe Op.48 (1840)

Im wunderschönen Monat Mai

Aus meinen Tränen

Die Rose, die Lilie

Wenn ich in deine Augen sah

Ich will meine Seele tauchen

Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome

Ich grolle nicht

Und wüssten’s die Blumen

Das ist en Flöten und Geigen

Hör ich das Liedchen klingen

Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen

Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen

Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet

Allmächtlich im Traume

Aus alten Märchen

Die alten bösen Lieder

The 16 short poems Schumann selected from Heine’s Buch der Lieder for his Dichterliebe cycle present a loose but clear narrative progression from ecstatically dawning love through love apparently requited and love agonisingly lost to a final, heavy-hearted acceptance of the situation. While flollowing the story, Schumann nuances his settings in the light of personal experience and, far from failing to understand Heine’s irony as his critics allege, adds some of his own. Blissfully happy and prolifically inspired though he was in the first months of his marrige to Clara Wieck in September 1840 – he wrote nearly 140 songs before the end of the year – he was clearly still profoudly affected by the experience of being rejected by her, on the insistence of her obdurate father, four years earlier. ‘Ich grolle nicht,’ the turning point in the Dichterliebe cycle, is a direct reflection of what happened then.

By no means full of the joys of spring suggested by the title, ‘Im wunderschonen Monat Mai’ is set in wistful minor harmones by a composer who knew only too well what falling in love could mean. The short piano prelude says it all. Expressive though the vocal line unfailingly is in Dichterliebe, it is the piano that consistently tells the truth – as in the implacable cathedral-organ ending of Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome or the tumultuous postlude to Und wüssten’s die Blumen. It is the piano that remembers the beloved’s song, her melody so elusively placed off the beat, in Hör ich das Liedchen klingen. The most poignant piano postlude of all, that of Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen, is recalled after a magical modulation from the funereal harmonies of Die alten bösen Lieder to end the cycle in tender reconciliation.

      Im wunderschönen Monat Mai

      Aus meinen Tränen

      Die Rose, die Lilie

      Wenn ich in deine Augen sah

      Ich will meine Seele tauchen

      Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome

      Ich grolle nicht

      Und wüssten’s die Blumen

      Das ist en Flöten und Geigen

      Hör ich das Liedchen klingen

      Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen

      Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen

      Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet

      Allmächtlich im Traume

      Aus alten Märchen

      Die alten bösen Lieder

A reading of the 16 short poems Schumann selected from Heine’s Buch der Lieder for his Dichterliebe cycle presents a progression from dawning love through love requited to love lost and the anguish that goes with it. Schumann’s settings tell a somewhat different story. Blissfully happy and prolifically inspired though he was in the first months of his marrige to Clara Wieck in September 1840 – he wrote nearly 140 songs before the end of the year – he was clearly still profoudly affected by the experience of being rejected by her, on the insistence of her obdurate father, four years earlier. Ich grolle nicht, the turning point in the Dichterliebe cycle, is a direct reflection of that situation.

Far from being full of the joys of spring, as one might expect, Im wunderschonen Monat Mai is set in wistful, almost elegiac minor harmonies by a composer who knew only too well what falling in love could mean. The short piano prelude says it all. Expressive though the vocal line unfailingly is in Dichterliebe, it is the piano that consistently tells the truth – as in the implacable cathedral-organ ending of Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome or the tumultuous postlude to Und wüssten’s die Blumen. It is the piano that remembers the beloved’s song, her melody so elusively placed off the beat, in Hör ich das Liedchen klingen. The most poignant piano postlude of all, that of Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen, is recalled after a magical modulation from the funereal harmonies of Die alten bösen Lieder to end the cycle in tender reconciliation.

Im wunderschönen Monat Mai

Aus meinen Tränen

Die Rose, die Lilie

Wenn ich in deine Augen seh

Ich will meine Seele tauchen

Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome

Ich grolle nicht

Und wüssten’s die Blumen

Das ist en Flöten und Geigen

Hör ich das Liedchen klingen

Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen

Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen

Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet

Allnächtlich im Traume

Aus alten Märchen

Die alten bösen Lieder

The 16 short poems Schumann selected from Heine’s Buch der Lieder for his Dichterliebe cycle present a loose but clear narrative progression from ecstatically dawning love through love apparently requited and love agonisingly lost to a final, heavy-hearted acceptance of the situation. While flollowing the story, Schumann nuances his settings in the light of personal experience and, far from failing to understand Heine’s irony as his critics allege, adds some of his own. Blissfully happy and prolifically inspired though he was in the first months of his marrige to Clara Wieck in September 1840 – he wrote nearly 140 songs before the end of the year – he was clearly still profoudly affected by the experience of being rejected by her, on the insistence of her obdurate father, four years earlier. ‘Ich grolle nicht,’ the turning point in the Dichterliebe cycle, is a direct reflection of what happened then.

By no means full of the joys of spring suggested by the title, ‘Im wunderschonen Monat Mai’ is set in wistful minor harmones by a composer who knew only too well what falling in love could mean. Similarly, in his interpretation of ‘Aus meinen Tränen’ there are more tears than flowers or nightingales. The melodically delightful and rhythmically impulsive settng of ‘Die Rose, die Lilie’ is pure joy, it is true. But the joy survives only as far as the penultimate line of ‘Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’ where uncertain harmonies precede the words “Ich liebe dich” and, questioning their sincerity, provoke bitter tears. Quiveringly erotic though the word-setting is in ‘Ich will meine Seele tauchen,’ the short piano postlude discreetly declares it an illusion. Indeed, in Dichterliebe in general it is the piano that tells the truth – as in the implacable cathedral-organ ending of ‘Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome’ which dismisses another lyrical illusion.

‘Ich grolle nicht,’ which Schumann surely saw as a direct reflection of his relationship with the forcibly estranged Clara in 1836, is the stoically expressed begining of the reconciliation to come. It is not easily achieved, however, as the tumultuous piano postlude to ‘Und wüssten’s die Blumen’ confirms. In ‘Das ist en Flöten und Geigen’ Schumann adds an ironic omment by turning the minor-key harmonies of the wedding-dance tune to the major in the piano’s closing bars. The piano again occupies the foreground by remembering the beloved’s song, her melody so elusively placed off the beat, in ‘Hör ich das Liedchen klingen.’ Another ironic point is made by the cheerful folk-song style setting of ‘Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen.’

The next step towards reconciliation is made by ‘Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen,’ though more in the sublimely beautiful piano postlude than in the poignant little song itself. Bad dreams intervene in the funereal ‘Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet’ and the frustratingly elusive ‘Allnächtlich im Traume.’ It is only after the acceptance of reality in ‘Aus alten Märchen,’ where the froth of illusion melts away in a pianissimo piano postlude, that reconciliation is possible. In ‘Die alten bösen Lieder’ the burden of pain is ceremoniously laid to rest and, at the beginning of its its extended reflection on the whole cycle, the piano’s recall of its postlude to ‘Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen’ confirms that the plea for forgiveness made in that song has finally been answered.