Spring (season)

Hellebore, Kranskje Gora, Slovenia April 2008, Photo: Malcolm Wren
Hellebore, Kranskje Gora, Slovenia April 2008, Photo: Malcolm Wren

Geheimnis / A mystery


Sag an, wer lehrt dich Lieder, 
So schmeichelnd und so zart? 
Sie rufen einen Himmel 
Aus trüber Gegenwart. 
Erst lag das Land, verschleiert
Im Nebel vor uns da - 
Du singst, und Sonnen leuchten, 
Und Frühling ist uns nah.  

Tell me, who teaches you songs,
Songs that are so flattering and so tender?
They summon a heaven
Out of the overcast present.
At first the veiled land lay
There before us, covered in mist - 
You sing - and suns light up,
And spring is close to us.

Mayrhofer, Geheimnis. An F. Schubert  D 491

Johann Mayrhofer, Schubert’s collaborator and flatmate, put his finger on the central question. How could Schubert bring about such an astonishing transformation? He begins with the dismal world where we live our grey lives, yet his songs manage to turn conventional images and ideas into a vibrant experience of new life as we listen to them. It is like the arrival of spring.

Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring allowed later generations to experience a similar sensation of spring exploding within the constraints of music and dance. What was it about Schubert’s selection of poetry that allowed him to break down Biedermeier convention and allow his listeners to feel that they were in close proximity to the powers that erupt every spring?

Perhaps the first thing to point out is that good poetry is not descriptive but evocative and emotive. There is no interest in saying ‘What a beautiful flower!’ or ‘Things are coming to life again.’ Effective poetry is less obvious, more ambiguous, more mysterious. It is a matter of faith and doubt rather than knowledge and certainty.

Frühlingsglaube / Spring faith


Die linden Lüfte sind erwacht,
Sie säuseln und weben Tag und Nacht,
Sie schaffen an allen Enden.
O frischer Duft, o neuer Klang,
Nun armes Herze, sei nicht bang,
Nun muss sich alles, alles wenden.

Die Welt wird schöner mit jedem Tag,
Man weiß nicht, was noch werden mag,
Das Blühen will nicht enden.
Es blüht das fernste, tiefste Tal,
Nun armes Herz, vergiss der Qual,
Nun muss sich alles, alles wenden.

The soothing breezes have woken up,
They are rustling and weaving day and night,
They are creating things everywhere.
Oh fresh fragrance, oh new sound!
Now poor heart, do not be anxious!
Now everything, everything has to change.

The world is going to become more beautiful every day,
Nobody knows what might still happen,
The blossoming does not want to end.
The most distant, deepest valley is coming into blossom.
Now poor heart, forget your distress!
Now everything, everything has to change.

Uhland, Frühlingsglaube  D 686

The seemingly simple title of Uhland’s text (Frühlingsglaube, literally ‘spring faith’) could be read in at least two ways. Is it ‘faith in spring’ (a belief that spring is on its way) or ‘faith resulting from spring’ (the positive beliefs that flow from the arrival of spring)? What has brought about the heart’s anxiety and distress and in what sense can the change offered by spring resolve matters? Since the text was written in 1812 at the time of great uncertainty in Europe (before Napoleon’s retreat from Russia) does the author’s liberalism (e.g. his hope for an end to censorship and authoritarian rule) influence our reading of what is meant by the change that ‘has to’ come about? Above all, if everything ‘must’ change and spring is already underway, why does the troubled heart need so much reassurance?

‘Frühlingsglaube‘ is the second poem in a group of Frühlingslieder (pages 54 to 57 of Uhland’s 1815 ‘Gedichte‘). In all of these he uses compound nouns both to evoke simple sensations at the same time as opening the text to ambiguity, as in the fifth of the six texts, Lob des Frühlings, In praise of spring:


Saatengrün, Veilchenduft, 
Lerchenwirbel, Amselschlag, 
Sonnenregen, linde Luft!

Wenn ich solche Worte singe,
Braucht es dann noch großer Dinge,
Dich zu preisen, Frühlingstag?

Seed green, violet scent,
Lark whirl, blackbird song,
Sun rain, gentle breeze!

When I sing words like this
Are bigger things needed
In order to praise you, spring day?

The literal translation shows the power of this compounding. How can we make sense of Sonnenregen (sun rain)? It is both a powerfully physical evocation of a familiar spring-time phenomenon (rain showers illuminated by sunbeams) and a strangely alienating and disorientating piece of nonsense at the same time. As Uhland explains in the text, the simple act of conjunction is enough to evoke our reactions on a spring day. 

The word Frühling (spring) seems to be particularly open to compounding in the German language. The following compounds appear in Schubert’s song texts:

FrühlingsabendrotD 429
FrühlingsbäumenD 413
Frühlings FülleD 483
Frühlings GabenD 866/1
FrühlingsgartenD 95; D 280
Frühlingsgesang         D 709, D 740
FrühlingsglanzD 1A, D 39
FrühlingsglaubeD 686
FrühlingshalmD 275
Frühlings KinderD 323
FrühlingsliedD 914, D 919
FrühlingsluftD 752
FrühlingslustD 772
Frühlingslust und LiebeD 712
FrühlingsmelodienD 415
FrühlingsnebelD 186
FrühlingsprachtD 259, D 296
FrühlingsschimmerD 317; D 884
FrühlingsschöneD 807
FrühlingssehnsuchtD 957/3
FrühlingsstrahlD 797/3b; D 882
FrühlingssonneD 855
FrühlingssonnenD 207
FrühlingstagD 7
FrühlingstraumD 911/11
FrühlingsweltD 172, D 203
FrühlingswetterD 767
FrühlingswindD 414, D 747
Frühlingswinden        D 861
FrühlingszeitD 466

Rellstab’s Frühlingssehnsucht (Longing at springtime? Longing for spring? Spring-like longing?) includes another compound, similarly aimed at jolting the reader: Blütenschnee (literally ‘blossom snow’). Winter and spring are juxtaposed to create a vivid image (and sensation) of falling petals. This is part of the poet’s attempt to capture the sense of longing and desire that becomes acute in springtime:


Grünend umkränzet
Wälder und Höh,
Schimmernd erglänzet
Blütenschnee.
So dränget sich alles zum bräutlichen Licht,
Es schwellen die Keime, die Knospe bricht,
Sie haben gefunden was ihnen gebricht,
Und du?

Rastloses Sehnen,
Wünschendes Herz,
Immer nur Tränen,
Klage und Schmerz?
Auch ich bin mir schwellender Triebe bewusst,
Wer stillet mir endlich die drängende Lust?
Nur du befreist den Lenz in der Brust,
Nur du!

With a green garland all around
Stand the forests and the hills!
Shining and glowing there - 
Snow-like blossom!
Thus everything is pushing up towards the bridal light;
The seeds are bursting, the buds are breaking open;
They have found what they needed:
And you?

Restless longing!
Heart full of desire,
At all times nothing but tears,
Laments and pain?
I too am conscious of a swelling urge!
Who is finally going to still this driving desire?
Only you can release the spring in my breast,
Only you!

Rellstab, Frühlingssehnsucht  D 957/3

Nur du, o sturmbewegte Seele / Only you, storm-tossed soul

In Rellstab’s poem about the longing triggered by spring, there can be no doubt that the speaker is open to the possibility of renewal, but a large number of the texts that Schubert chose to set present a character who is acutely aware of the difference between the outer promise of springtime and a bleaker inner reality. Mayrhofer’s Sehnsucht (Longing) makes this explicit:


Der Lerche wolkennahe Lieder 
Erschmettern zu des Winters Flucht,
Die Erde hüllt in Sammt die Glieder, 
Und Blüten bilden rote Frucht. 
Nur du, o sturmbewegte Seele, 
Nur du bist blütenlos, in dich gekehrt, 
Und wirst in goldner Frühlingshelle 
Von tiefer Sehnsucht aufgezehrt!

Nie wird, was du verlangst, entkeimen 
Dem Boden, Idealen fremd,
Der trotzig deinen schönsten Träumen 
Die rohe Kraft entgegen stemmt;
Du ringst dich matt, mit seiner Härte, 
Vom Wunsche heftiger entbrannt;
Mit Kranichen ein strebende Gefährte, 
Zu wandern in ein milder Land.

The songs of the lark, up near the clouds, 
Ring out as winter flees. 
The earth covers its limbs in velvet 
And blossoms form red fruit.   
Only you, storm-tossed soul, 
Only you do not blossom. You are turned in on yourself, 
And in the golden brightness of spring 
You are sucked dry by deep longing.   

What you crave will never germinate in 
This soil, a stranger to ideals, 
Which, despite your most beautiful dreams, 
Sets its raw strength up against you.   
You exhaust yourself battling against its toughness, 
Fired up with the burning desire 
To set off as a striving companion with the cranes 
And to migrate to a kinder country.

Mayrhofer, Sehnsucht		D 516

Another of Schubert’s close friends, Franz von Schober, wrote a similar text about the agony and hopelessness of a melancholy spirit surrounded by burgeoning spring:


Du brachst sie nun, die kalte Rinde,
Und rieselst froh und frei dahin,
Die Lüfte wehen wieder linde,
Und Moos und Gras wird neu und grün.

Allein, mit traurigem Gemüte
Tret ich wie sonst zu deiner Flut,
Der Erde allgemeine Blüte
Kommt meinem Herzen nicht zu gut.

Hier treiben immer gleiche Winde,
Kein Hoffen kommt in meinen Sinn,
Als dass ich hier ein Blümchen finde,
Blau, wie sie der Erinnrung blühn.

You have broken it now, that cold crust,
And you are rippling onwards freely and merrily.
The breezes are blowing soothingly again,
And the moss and grass are becoming new and green.

Alone, in a sad mood,
I trudge towards your waters as before.
The general blossoming of the Earth
Is not doing my heart any good.

Here it is the same prevailing winds that continue to blow,
No hope enters my mind
Other than that I might find a small flower here:
Blue, like those that bloom in my memory.

Schober, Am Bach im Frühlinge  	D 361

This disjunction between the speaker’s inner reality and the objective outer world is one of the main ways in which Schubert’s song texts avoid clichéd predictability. The vividness of this new life at May-time serves to heighten the contrast with the darkness of the soul, with its lack of inner drive. We see this, for example, in Schulze’s Über Wildemann, where the bipolar poet avoids the valleys where spring has brought the world to life:


O Liebe, Liebe,
O Maienhauch,
Du drängst die Triebe
Aus Baum und Strauch,
Die Vögel singen
Auf grünen Höhn,
Die Quellen springen
Bei deinem Wehn.
 
Mich lässt du schweifen
Im dunklen Wahn
Durch Windespfeifen
Auf rauer Bahn.
O Frühlingsschimmer,
O Blütenschein!
Soll ich denn nimmer
Mich dein erfreun?

Oh love, love,
Oh breath of May!
You are pushing up the shoots
From the trees and bushes;
The birds are singing
On the green heights;
The springs are gushing
At your inspiration!

You leave me to roam
In dark confusion
Through the blowing wind
On my rough course.
Oh shimmer of spring,
Oh shining blossom,
Shall I therefore never
Enjoy you?

Schulze, Über Wildemann 	D 884

Some of Schubert’s poets clearly intended to shock the reader with this contrast, none more so than Mailáth, whose Der Blumen Schmerz (The sorrow of the flowers) presents the blossoming of springtime as an unadulterated tragedy:


Wie tönt es mir so schaurig,
Des Lenzes erstes Wehn,
Wie dünkt es mir so traurig,
Dass Blumen auferstehn.

In ihrer Mutter Armen
Da ruhten sie so still,
Nun müssen, ach! die Armen
Hervor ans Weltgewühl.

Die zarten Kinder heben
Die Häupter scheu empor:
"Wer rufet uns ins Leben
Aus stiller Nacht hervor?"

Der Lenz mit Zauberworten
Mit Hauchen süßer Lust,
Lockt aus den dunklen Pforten
Sie von der Mutter Brust.

In bräutlich heller Feier
Erscheint der Blumen Pracht,
Doch fern schon ist der Freier,
Wild glüht der Sonne Macht.

Nun künden ihre Düfte,
Dass sie voll Sehnsucht sind,
Was labend würzt die Lüfte,
Es ist der Schmerzen Kind.

Die Kelche sinken nieder,
Sie schauen erdenwärts:
"O Mutter, nimm uns wieder,
Das Leben gibt nur Schmerz."

Die welken Blätter fallen,
Mild deckt der Schnee sie zu -
Ach Gott! so geht's mit allem,
Im Grabe nur ist Ruh!

How gruesome it sounds to me,
The first stirring of spring,
How sad it appears to me,
The fact that flowers are coming to life again.

In the arms of their mother
They were resting so quietly there,
Now, poor things, they have to 
Go forth towards the tumult of the world.

The tender children raise
Their heads up shyly:
"Who is calling us into life
Out of quiet night?"

Spring, with magic words,
With the breath of sweet pleasure,
Lures them out of the dark gates
From their mother's breast.

In bright, bridal celebration
The display of flowers appears,
Yet the suitor is far away,
The power of the sun is burning savagely.

Now their scents announce
That they are full of longing.
What adds such spice to the breezes
Derives from their sorrow.

The sepals sink down,
They look towards the earth:
"Oh mother, take us back,
Life has only sorrow to offer."

The faded petals and leaves fall,
The snow gently covers them - 
Oh God, that is how it goes with everything,
Only the grave offers rest.

Mailáth, Der Blumen Schmerz	D 731

Ein unergründlich Sehnen / A fathomless longing

Perhaps inspired by Mailáth’s bleak text (and Schubert’s setting of it), Franz von Schober wrote two strange ‘flower’ ballads, Viola (D 786) and Vergissmeinnicht (Forget-me-not). Schubert set them both to music over the course of spring 1523 (around the time when he was coming to terms with being diagnosed with syphilis). Viola tells the story of a virginal bride, a violet, summoned by the ringing of bells (in fact the sound of snowdrops, ‘little snow bells’ in German) to greet her bridegroom, Spring, fresh from his victory over Winter. Unfortunately, though, she appears to be too early and too eager for the wedding. None of her bridesmaids (roses, lilies and daffodils) are waiting. Nor is there any sign of the groom. By the time Spring is fully ready she is crushed. Vergissmeinnicht, on the other hand, is about late rather than early spring. As the personified Spring leaves the blossoming world behind he notices a beautiful being with bright blue eyes.


Und der Frühling, wonnetrunken
Steht er und doch tief gerührt,
In das holde Bild versunken,
Fühlt er ganz, was er verliert.

Aber dringend mahnt die Stunde,
Dass er schnell von hinnen muss,
Ach, da brennt auf ihrem Munde
Glühend heiß der Scheidekuss,

Und in Duft ist er entschwunden.
Doch das Kind entfährt dem Schlaf,
Tief hat sie der Kuss entzunden,
Wie ein Blitzstrahl, der sie traf.

And spring is drunk with bliss as
He stands there, yet he is deeply stirred;
Drowning in the beautiful image
He can feel everything that he is leaving behind!

But he is conscious of the imminent hour
When he will have to leave here quickly.
Oh! Burning there on her mouth
He imprints the hot, glowing farewell kiss.

And he has disappeared into fragrance. - 
But the child escapes from sleep.
The kiss has inflamed her deeply
As if she has been struck by lightning.

Schober, Vergissmeinnicht	D 792

She is too late, though. Spring has moved on and she is left with a fathomless longing.

Both texts are explicity concerned more with the experience of nascent human sexuality than with botany. Schober presents us with two tragic flowers: one that blooms too soon and the other too late. We are left to make what we can of this. In both, though, spring is a male figure (‘der Frühling‘ is a masculine noun in German), either a bridegroom who is late for the wedding or an irresponsible man who leaves his lover without taking responsibility for his behaviour. Spring is indeed unreliable.

Er ist’s / It is him

Spring is frequently anthropomorphised as a young man, and typically he is ‘arriving’ or ‘visiting’. In Uz’s Gott im Frühlinge (D 448) he is a sort of ambassador from heaven and in Claudius’s Am ersten Maimorgen (D 344) he is a Maenad or even the god Dionysus himself, who we greet by dancing round the maypole and waving a thyrsus. Schiller’s An den Frühling welcomes spring as a ‘beautiful youth’ who brings flowers for his girlfriend. Reil’s Das Lied im Grünen sees Spring as a young lad urging us to go out and join him in the open air.


Ins Grüne, ins Grüne,
Da lockt uns der Frühling, der liebliche Knabe,
Und führt uns am blumenumwundenen Stabe
Hinaus, wo die Lerchen und Amseln so wach,
In Wälder, auf Felder, auf Hügel, zum Bach,
Ins Grüne, ins Grüne.

Into the countryside, into the countryside!
Spring, that lovely lad, is luring us there
And leading us with a staff that has flowers twisted around it,
Outside, where the larks and blackbirds are so awake,
Into the woods, onto the fields, onto the hills, to the river,
Into the countryside, into the countryside.

Reil, Das Lied im Grünen	D 917

Des Himmels Ahnung / An awareness of heaven

In poems that do not centre on the gulf between blossoming nature and human misery, there is often an attempt to capture the astonishing vibrancy of spring and its positive effect on the human spirit. For a number of pious poets, the connection between Easter and spring sets the tone:


Im Lenzhauch webt der Geist des Herrn!
Sieh! Auferstehung nah und fern,
Sieh! Jugendfülle, Schönheitsmeer
Und Wonnetaumel rings umher!

Ich blicke her, ich blicke hin,
Und immer höher schwebt mein Sinn.
Nur Tand sind Pracht und Gold und Ruhm,
Natur, in deinem Heiligtum!

Des Himmels Ahnung den umweht,
Der deinen Liebeston versteht;
Doch, an dein Mutterherz gedrückt,
Wird er zum Himmel selbst entzückt.

The spirit of the Lord is weaving through the breath of spring!
Look! Resurrection nearby and far away,
Look! The fullness of youth, a sea of beauty,
And a frenzy of delight all around.

I glance this way, I glance that way,
And my mind floats ever higher.
Splendour, gold and glory are just worthless,
Nature, in your sanctum!

An awareness of heaven surrounds
Anyone who understands your music of love;
But, pressed to your motherly heart,
He will be carried off enchanted to heaven itself.

Matthisson, Naturgenuss	D 188, D 422

Here the new life of spring is part of that same creative spirit mentioned in Genesis when God first breathed on the earth. Resurrection is everywhere. This grants us a presentiment (Ahnung) of heaven itself. The magic and the mystery of nature at spring-time invite us to lie down and embrace the burgeoning earth. As in orthodox Christianity this bending down or submission (katabasis) brings about resurrection (anabasis). It is the earth itself (suffused with the divine at springtime) that allows us into heaven.

Goethe used a classical version of the same imagery when he re-wrote the myth of Ganymede. He used his own experience of paying close attention to the earth (he did detailed and important work on geology and botany) to underline the value of apprehending the forces at work in spring-time renewal. These same forces allow the sensitive soul to grasp the underlying reality of the world. As we embrace Spring, our lover (Frühling, Geliebter!), we find ourselves embraced. Nature, the world, god, reality respond to our probing and invite us in and upwards. We go down into the womb of Mother Earth (In eurem Schoße) only to find ourselves carried upwards to heaven (Aufwärts an deinen Busen, Alliebender Vater / Up into your bosom, all loving father).


Wie im Morgenglanze 
Du rings mich anglühst, 
Frühling, Geliebter!  
Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne 
Sich an mein Herze drängt 
Deiner ewigen Wärme 
Heilig Gefühl, 
Unendliche Schöne!  

Dass ich dich fassen möcht
In diesen Arm!  

Ach an deinem Busen 
Lieg' ich, und schmachte, 
Und deine Blumen, dein Gras 
Drängen sich an mein Herz. 
Du kühlst den brennenden 
Durst meines Busens, 
Lieblicher Morgenwind! 
Ruft drein die Nachtigall 
Liebend nach mir aus dem Nebeltal. 
Ich komm! ich komme! 
Wohin? Ach, wohin?  

Hinauf! Hinauf strebt's. 
Es schweben die Wolken 
Abwärts, die Wolken 
Neigen sich der sehnenden Liebe. 
Mir! Mir! 
In eurem Schoße 
Aufwärts! 
Umfangend umfangen! 
Aufwärts an deinen Busen, 
Alliebender Vater!

In the glow of the morning, how
You are heating things up around me,
Spring, beloved!
With a thousand-fold loving bliss,
Pressing onto my heart is
Your eternal warmth's
Sacred feeling,
Endless beauty!

If only I could get hold of you
In these arms!

Oh, on your breast
I am lying and languishing,
And your flowers, your grass
Are pushing themselves towards my heart.
You cool the burning
Thirst of my breast,
Lovely morning wind!
The nightingales are calling down
Lovingly towards me out of the misty valley.
I am coming, I am coming!
Where to? Oh, where to?

Up! There is a striving up.
The clouds are floating
Down, the clouds
Are bending down to this yearning love.
To me! To me!
Into your lap,
Upwards!
Embracing embraced!
Upwards to your breast,
All-loving father!

Goethe, Ganymed  	D 544

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Footnote

Both ‘Lenz‘ and ‘Frühling‘ mean ‘spring’ in German (a bit like English has two words for the ‘fall’ season). ‘Lenz‘ tends to be used in poetic contexts rather than everyday language, and it gives poets flexibility. They have the choice between a one and a two syllable word to refer to the same phenomenon. Schubert settings that include the word ‘Lenz’ are: D 73, D 595; D 129, D 199, D 503; D 188, D 422; D 323; D 455; D 579B; D 594; D 711; D 731; D 741; D 794; D 866/2; D 896B; D 914, D 919; D 945; D 957/3; D 983C.

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