This breezy song is the first of a set of three forest pictures which comprise Op 119. The full title of this opus number is Drei Gedichte aus den Waldliedern von Gustav Pfarrius. The poet’s collection entitled Waldlieder (‘Songs of the Forest’) obviously appealed to the composer: he originally appended one of the poems to a movement in the piano work Waldszenen Op 82, but thought better of it when it came to publication. The second song of the Op 119 set – the haunting miniature, Warnung – has already been included in Volume 1 of the Hyperion Schumann Edition. There are a number of other forest songs in the Schumann canon: Waldesgespräch, Zwielicht, In der Fremde II, Im Walde (Eichendorff Liederkreis), Sehnsucht nach der Waldgegend (Kerner) but this one is surely the merriest and least mysterious.
Perhaps this is why it has excited scant comment. Sams notes the use of the ‘virile motif’ where dotted rhythms, particularly in march rhythm, betoken Schumann’s idea of manliness. When one thinks of ‘manly’ composers Beethoven is high on the list, and here Schumann, not for the first time in his songs, seems to have been thinking of that composer. It does not appear to have been noticed before that this bouncy music bears an uncanny resemblance to the opening of the Scherzo movement (‘Assai vivace’) of Beethoven’s ‘Hammerklavier’ Sonata, Op 106. Despite different time-signatures (3/4 for the scherzo, C for the song) both works have almost identical introductions of dotted rhythms and harmonies in descending sequence: I – V (in first inversion) followed by VI – III (first inversion) and then IV – I . There are also some tell-tale signs that this tune did not spring from the words themselves, and that Schumann had this melody in already in mind: at the very opening, melismas on the unimportant words ‘Im’ and ‘in’ indicate a line of poetry being made to fit an existing melody. This failing is more typical of Brahms than Schumann.
The tempo marking is ‘Ziemlich lebhaft’ (reasonably lively) although one would have imagined that the musical response to these words about communion with nature might have been rather more contemplative (cf. Schumann’s Eichendorff setting about a forest hermit, Der Einsiedler, which is written in the manner of a chorale). The composer has seemingly been more inspired by the energy implicit in the idea of DIY: building your own cottage is an undoubtedly demanding task, and this brisk music (perhaps a bit too whimsical to be truly virile) reflects the determination to do so. Although much of the poem describes the fruits of his labours (‘I have built myself a cottage’ is very much a fait accompli) the composer seems to be inviting us to take part in its actual construction.
One can only imagine that the idea of being solitary and isolated somehow brought Beethoven to mind, the handicapped loner who triumphed despite an isolation that would have daunted most mortals. In fact it could be said he owed his success to his retreat, a type of hermitage, and that he had built his own inviolable fortress, let alone a humble hut, within the realm of western music. A glance at the Beethoven movement from Op 106 shows how wonderfully the music is constructed out of these simple dotted rhythm motifs which dance quixotically through the score, weaving the movement together as a convincing whole; the music fits a picture of someone working with zest as he uses a combination of the same simple materials to build – well, something or the other … a forest hut, for example. The short-breathed phrases, emphasised by hairpin accentuations, suggest cheerful hammering within a foursquare construction. But in a song of this type such cheeriness comes at a cost. Any deeper spiritual import that the poet might have implied is not to be found in this heartily illustrative music. Comparison with the more gentle Bewegung of works like Schubert’s two settings about the life of a hermit (Die Einsiedelei, D393 and D563) shows how it is possible for music which incorporates illustrative figurations for rustling forest and babbling stream to preserve a background of serious feeling.
There are the usual controversial features of the late Schumann to be found here – admirable and ground-breaking if one believes that the late songs represent real evolution, disappointing and retrogressive if not. It would be hard to argue that Die Hütte is elegantly written for the piano – there is definitely something awkward about the accompaniment, and not in the same sense as the inspired quirkiness of the Beethoven. Slightly ungainly triplets at moments when the builder is off duty (at ‘Ins Fenster blüht die Rose’ for example) and ineffectual semiquavers for the water-imagery of ‘rauscht nah vorbei der Wiesenbach’ do little truly to vary or enliven the mood of the whole. Whatever vivacity there is in this music stems from the vocal line alone, and at times the hymn-tune doubling of voice and accompaniment seems simultaneously over-active and lame. With the final words of the poem a touch of the supernatural is introduced with mention of dancing and singing elves. This image fits the impishness of the ‘Beethoven’ refrain and may have been the key to the whole song in Schumann’s mind.
In terms of structure Die Hütte depends on a refrain verse of four lines (beginning in each case ‘Im Wald’ and ending proudly with the words ‘mir gebaut’) which appears three times in all – beginning and ending the work, and standing between two longer strophes (of eight lines each) which carry the narrative forward (sometimes this is reminiscent of an estate agent’s blurb for the ideal country retreat, almost too good to be true). The fact is that the poem, representing a German romantic fad for countrified solitude of which Schumann had no real-life experience, is not capable of inspiring his most intense response. But this innocent and simple song does have an infectious tune, and a case can be made for its carefully placed inclusion in a recital programme as a ‘trampoline song’ (Poulenc’s term). Wily performers place such a launching pad between two more substantial (and usually slower) songs. In much the same way, fruit sorbets serve to cleanse the diner’s palate between heavier courses; a fraises des bois of a hut-song then, hammered out of phrases du bois.
from notes by Graham Johnson © 2000