This is an invaluable issue for all Schumann lovers, offering not only all the solo piano works Clara was always known to have written, but also a handful of miniatures, long hidden away in manuscript and only recently brought to light.
With Robert as husband and Felix Mendelssohn one of her closest friends, their influence is of course strong—and even Chopin momentarily left his mark after his visit to Leipzig in 1836. Yet after she'd despatched juvenilia like the four Polonaises, the Caprices en forme de valse and the Romance variee, published as her Opp. 1, 2 and 3 the little flights of fancy all her own constantly amaze me first of all in the four Pieces caracteristiques, Op. 5, and the six Soirees musicales, Op. 6. Schumann himself was appreciative enough of her romantic ''Notturno'', Op. 6 No. 2, (growing from the five falling-note motif so symbolic for both of them while forbidden all communication by Clara's father) to quote it as the ''Stimme aus der Ferne'' in his last Novellette. He also used the opening motif of her ''Mazurka'' (No. 5) to launch his own Davidsbundlertanze, as well as happily sharing an idea or two (probably his in the first place) from her ''Ballet des Revenantes'', Op. 5 No 4, when it came to the first movement of his F sharp minor Sonata. Perhaps nowhere did her romanticism find freer outlet than in the three Romances, Op. 11—her last work before their marriage, prompting his remark (on discovering that a phrase in her No. 2 was identical with one in his Humoresque, as yet unknown to her) that they were destined to become man and wife. As a creative tour de force, I would nevertheless single out her 1837 Bellini Variations, Op. 8 (on a Cavatina from his Il Pirata) as the outstanding achievement of her youth in its compromise between the purely pianistic display then expected of her on concert tours and the poetic dictates of her own maturing heart.
Of the post-marital works, the two most ambitious are the G minor Sonata, intended as Robert's Christmas present in 1841 though not in fact completed for another 13 months, and the much later Op. 20 Variations on Robert's own F sharp minor theme (again the significant falling five-note motto) first published as No. 4 of his 1851 Bunte Blatter. Smaller pieces of this time speak more personally. But I'm sure it's the Sonata we'll soon be hearing quite often—thanks to its splendid new Breitkopf publication edited by Dr Gerd Nauhaus, of the Schumann-Haus in Zwickau, to whom the whole musicological world already owes so tremendous a debt of gratitude. Whatever the context, one thing remains plain—and that is the masterly elegance of Clara's craftsmanship. For basic proof, just try the three, newly unearthed Fugues growing from Bach's Book 2 of the 48, written alongside her already familiar contrapuntal exercises (the Op. 16 Praeludien und Fugen) when both husband and wife set out to improve their compositional technique.
The Dutch pianist, Josef de Beenhouwer, is scarcely less dedicated to the Schumanns' cause than Gerd Nauhaus (between them they are currently reconstructing yet another of the couple's abandoned concertos). If not quite a Horowitz in technique, sometimes too ready to rely for warmth on the right pedal (at the expense of textural clarity), this pianist's heart is always in the right place. He wins the day by reason of the sincerity of his motivation. Though the recording itself perhaps only merits three out of a possible five stars, you somehow quickly tune-in to a slight suspicion of the synthetic because of the total commitment of the playing.'