In the poems of Winterreise we often find cinematic images. Not because Wilhelm Müller sought this effect, of course, but because we, having grown up watching films, see the scene in our minds. One of these images, one that moves me especially when I hear it at a recital, appears in Rückblick, which we can translate as "Looking Back."
In the second stanza of the poem, the wanderer recalls how he fled the city where he lived, running so fast and so uncontrollably that he stumbled over every stone, while the crows pelted him with snowballs and hail. As I was saying before, we have all seen countless films in which someone runs as if their life depended on it (or because it does), stumbling, falling, and getting back up to keep running. And we can hear them gasping and glancing back over their shoulder.
That the crows pelt him with snowballs from the rooftops makes the scene sinister and even terrifying. Crows (or ravens) unsettle us (thank you, Poe!) and a gathering of birds watching us is even more unsettling (thank you, Hitchcock!). If these ominous birds are mocking a character's misfortune and throwing things at him, what I see is quite simply a depiction of the mob jeering at a condemned man on his way to the gallows. Yes, perhaps I have too vivid an imagination, but I describe it to try to convey what these verses suggest to me.
Schubert's song also conveys the wanderer's anguish as he looks back and recalls with what desperation he left, and remembers too his arrival, when everything seemed to smile upon him. Rückblick is the eighth song in the cycle, coming after Auf dem Flusse–a lament that turns to despair towards the end– and does so with music as frenetic as that of Erstarrung.
The score carries the marking nicht zu geschwind [not too fast]. It is not the most precise indication in the world –they rarely are– and the tempo is always left to the performers' discretion, but I have the feeling that the upper limit on speed is set by the singer, who must be able to deliver the words without them turning into a tongue-twister. Again, this is just a feeling, but I would say this is one of the most demanding songs in the cycle for performers.
The first two stanzas are marked by the rush of the flight, and the piano, right from the opening of the song, sets the scene. The poetic voice also tells us he is breathless, and the vocal line is written in a way that reinforces this idea. Furthermore, Schubert repeats the last two lines, the image of the crows. It is an image that exists only in his mind, of course; those birds may be more or less nice creatures, but it is physically impossible for them to throw snowballs at anyone (another image has just come to mind. Thank you, Walt Disney!).
After this unpleasant and recent memory, two more stanzas bring the wanderer's more distant memory: his arrival in springtime, when the city showed him its best face. Here the vocal line softens and settles, it's a moment of peace for him. But it is a brief and illusory moment; the piano, in fact, has not for a single instant ceased its restless motion. The repetition of the last two lines, the encounter with the girl, and the certainty that that was the moment of his undoing, give way once again to the opening agitation.
Only one stanza of the poem remains, and this might upset the symmetry of the song, Schubert, with great skill, repeats it. I say with great skill because the repetition is inspired both musically and dramatically: in this final stanza, the wanderer entertains the idea of retracing his steps. He seems caught between the longing to return, if only to stand before his beloved's house, and the urge to keep on fleeing. The composer conveys this uncertainty by repeating the entire stanza, then the last two lines, and then once more the very last line.
We know the wanderer will continue on his journey, and that after this song, which weighs so heavily our heart, sixteen more still await us. So let us do as we always do, and walk alongside him. Our performers of Rückblick will be Peter Mattei and Lars David Nilsson.
Es brennt mir unter beiden Sohlen,
Tret' ich auch schon auf Eis und Schnee.
Ich möcht' nicht wieder Athem holen,
Bis ich nicht mehr die Thürme seh'.
Hab' mich an jedem Stein gestoßen,
So eilt' ich zu der Stadt hinaus;
Die Krähen warfen Bäll' und Schloßen
Auf meinen Hut von jedem Haus.
Wie anders hast du mich empfangen,
Du Stadt der Unbeständigkeit!
An deinen blanken Fenstern sangen
Die Lerch' und Nachtigall im Streit.
Die runden Lindenbäume blühten,
Die klaren Rinnen rauschten hell,
Und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glühten! -
Da war's geschehn um dich, Gesell!
Kömmt mir der Tag in die Gedanken,
Möcht' ich noch einmal rückwärts sehn,
Möcht' ich zurücke wieder wanken,
Vor ihrem Hause stille stehn.
I can feel burning under the soles of both my feet,
Even though I am walking across ice and snow.
I do not feel like stopping again to catch my breath
Until I can no longer see the towers.
I have tripped over every stone
Such was my hurry to get out of the town;
The crows have been throwing snowballs and hailstones
Onto my hat from every house.
How differently you received me,
You town of inconstancy!
At your shiny windows there was a song
Competition between the larks and the nightingales.
The round lime trees were in blossom,
The clear channels of water were burbling brightly,
And oh, a girl’s two eyes were glowing! –
That all happened because of you, my friend!
If ever memories of that day enter my mind,
I want to look back again,
I want to totter back
And stand quietly in front of her house.
(traducció de Malcolm Wren)
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