Schumann, "Noveletten", for piano, No 8

 
In February 1838, in the midst of the struggle to keep the complicated courtship alive, Robert Schumann sent Clara Wieck an enthusiastic letter telling her of his latest compositional progress. By this time, nineteen-year-old Clara was touring Europe giving recitals as a concert pianist. Robert, on the other hand, had abandoned the idea of developing a similar career, and was focused on music criticism and composition:

"In the last few weeks, I have written for you a frightening number of pieces: there are cheerful ones, various stories, family scenes, a wedding... To make a long story short, kind affairs. I've given the whole play a name, Novelleten, because they call you Clara, but 'Wiecketen' doesn't quite fit."

Clara Wieck, from an 1835 lithograph

Novelleten, a curious title, but even more curious is the explanation that goes with it.
First, it may be necessary to remember that Robert Schumann loved literature, language, words, and... wordplay. Schumann explained in the same letter that the series of eight pieces, or "kind affairs," could also be considered little stories, or adventures. That is, little novels. First point. 

Second. Schumann had been very impressed by the artistry of a great soprano of that time, Clara Novello, whom he had recently heard. Naturally, Clara Wieck also knew of her. And perhaps, here we are allowed to speculate, and profusely: Clara might have been jealous of the Novello (who was also called Clara). And then, Robert adds the explanation. He is saying: they are meant for you, Clara Wieck, no doubt about it, but they cannot be called Wiecketen because it doesn't sound right.

But not only did it not sound good. Calling them Wiecketen was such a declaration of love that it would have added fuel to the fire, unleashing the wrath of Leipzig's most renowned pedagogue, the teacher Friedrich Wieck, Clara's father.

Noveletten Op 21 - No 8
It represents one of Schumann's most ambitious piano series, not only for its length but also for its technical demands. (Let us note that Franz Liszt added it to his repertoire as soon as he could).
As already mentioned, the work is made up of eight pieces extending over about 45 minutes, which were to be played as complete work. That was at least Schumann's original intention. But nowadays it is more common to take one or two pieces and present them as an encore. Usually, the opening piece, or the last of the series, is chosen.

We here present the last one, No. 8, in F sharp minor. It comprises two large sections, with a lyrical interlude connecting them. The second section includes a "quotation" to a nocturne written by Clara in 1836.

The rendition is by the German pianist Adrian Brendle.