Clara Schumann and Brahms Through the Eyes of Eugenie Schumann
Robert and Clara Schumann’s children in 1854. (L–R) Ludwig, Marie, Felix, Elise, Ferdinand, and Eugenie. Julie and Emil are missing.
Clara Schumann is someone I look to for inspiration: a star concert pianist, a devoted wife, and mother to eight children. She and her (more famous) husband Robert were the musical power couple of the nineteenth century. Robert composed an immense number of masterpieces, and Clara was one of the most successful pianists, male or female, while also composing herself. Both promoted works of other great composers—from past masters like Bach and Beethoven to their contemporaries. They befriended and opened their home to some of the most important artists of the time, especially Brahms, who sought out their guidance because of their impeccable taste.
Clara’s life was thrown into chaos when Robert had a mental breakdown and was committed to a mental asylum, leaving her alone to provide for and raise their (eight!) children. I read her daughter Eugenie Schumann’s illuminating memoirs “The Schumanns and Johannes Brahms” to get a glimpse of the family’s world and their friendship with Brahms. Eugenie paints a vivid portrait of Clara as a loving, dedicated mother who was by then the sole breadwinner, often spending months on the road. Despite the societal pressure to stay at home and raise her children, she was ahead of her time as a working, traveling mother. She made the difficult decision to leave her children and their education in the care of others while on tour. Though they all spent summers together, she always struggled with the emotional guilt of being away for much of their childhoods. Though women have made enormous progress in recent years, this challenge has not changed much: women like me continue to struggle with work/family balance.
Johannes Brahms. A portrait of Clara Schumann stands behind him to the left.
Clara was one of the most respected musical figures of her time, so countless artists came to her seeking guidance. Brahms became not only a friend, but also a fixture of the Schumann household. Eugenie wrote “We took for granted that he was one of the family and did not take much notice of him.” When he finished playing a portion of a newly written piano concerto for Clara, according to Eugenie, Clara “looked at him, smiled, and said, “’Do you think you can make me believe that this is a piano concerto? Not a bit of it! It is a symphony!’ And so, it was.” Thanks to Clara’s advice, Brahms duly turned the budding piano concerto into one of his greatest works: his first symphony.
Some of my favorite anecdotes from the memoirs are about Brahms as a pianist. The Schumann daughters, spoiled with their mother’s playing, did not think highly of Brahms’s pianistic abilities. Eugenie recalls, “I have even heard him play my father’s Quartet in E-flat major in a most unsatisfactory way… One day he played the piano part in his Violin Sonata in D minor at our house. Mama used to say that there was one bit marked “tranquillo” at the end of the third movement, where one walked on eggs. Marie and I were most anxious to hear how he would manage to get safely across. When it came, he took the tranquillo so excessively slowly that nothing could happen. We smiled at each other. “Another involved a performance with a singer, where during a rehearsal Brahms asked her “Can you sing that in time?” to which she responded, with a mischievous smile, “I think I can, if you can play it in time.”
Clara had the promise to be a great composer, but she had to step back and let her husband, the man, take the spotlight. She once said,” I once believed that I possessed creative talent, but I have given up this idea; a woman must not desire to compose – there has never yet been one able to do it. Should I expect to be the one?” Despite her small, rarely performed compositional output, millions have experienced her skill and taste indirectly, without knowing it, when listening to famous works like Brahms’ first symphony, and indeed, many of his piano pieces. Who knows what other works bear her imperceptible fingerprints?