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diff --git a/36472-h/36472-h.htm b/36472-h/36472-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4010233 --- /dev/null +++ b/36472-h/36472-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1674 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Day with Robert Schumann, by May Byron. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +.venti {font-size: 1.5em; +text-align: center; +font-family: serif; +font-weight: 600;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +img.cap { float:left; + margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; + position:relative; } +p.cap_1 { text-indent: -.8em; } +div.drop p:first-letter { color:Window; } +div.drop p { margin-bottom:0; } + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Day with Robert Schumann, by May Byron + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Day with Robert Schumann + +Author: May Byron + +Release Date: June 19, 2011 [EBook #36472] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT SCHUMANN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, paksenarrion and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="450" height="650" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/illus001.png" width="225" height="309" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/illus004.jpg" width="450" height="714" alt="THE HIDALGO." title="" /> + +<div class="caption"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><b>THE HIDALGO.</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My days I spend in courting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With songs and hearts a-sporting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or weaponed for a fight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Der Hidalgo</i>).<br /></span></div></div></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h1>A DAY WITH<br /> +ROBERT<br /> +SCHUMANN</h1> +<p class="venti">BY MAY BYRON</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/illus005.jpg" width="100" height="98" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">LONDON<br /> +HODDER & STOUGHTON</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>In the same Series.</i><br /> + <i>Mozart.</i><br /> + <i>Beethoven.</i><br /> + <i>Mendelssohn.</i><br /> + <i>Schubert.</i><br /> + <i>Chopin.</i><br /> + <i>Wagner.</i><br /> + <i>Gounod.</i><br /> + <i>Tschaikovsky.</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h2>A DAY WITH SCHUMANN.</h2> + + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illus007.png" alt="I" width="100" height="121" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1">It is an April morning in 1844, +in the town of Leipzig,—calm, +cool, and fraught with exquisite +promise of a prolific spring,—when +the Herr Professor +Doctor Robert Schumann, +rising before six o'clock as is his wont, very +quietly and noiselessly in his soft felt +slippers, dresses and goes downstairs. For +he does not wish to disturb or incommode +his sleeping wife, whose dark eyes are still +closed, or to awaken any of his three little +children.</p></div> + +<p>The tall, dignified, well-built man, with his +pleasant, kindly expression, and his air of +mingled intellect and reverie, bears his whole +character written large upon him,—his transparent +honesty, unflagging industry, and +generous, enthusiastic altruism. No touch of +self-seeking about him, no hint of ostentation <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +or conceit: he is still that same reticent and +silent person, of whom it was said some +years ago by his friends,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Herr Schumann is a right good man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He smokes tobacco as no one can:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man of thirty, I suppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And short his hair, and short his nose."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That, indeed, is the sum total of his outward +appearance: as for the inward man, it is +not to be known save through his writings. +Literature and music are the only means of +expression, of communication with others, +which are possessed by this modest, pensive, +reserved maestro, upon whom the sounding +titles of Doctor and Professor sit so strangely.</p> + +<p>In the unparalleled fervour and romance +of his compositions,—in the passionate heart-opening +of his letters,—in the sane, wholesome, +racy colloquialism of his critiques,—the real +Robert Schumann is unfolded. Otherwise he +might remain a perennial enigma to his nearest +and dearest: for even in his own family circle, +tenderly and dearly as he adores his wife and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +children, his lips remain sealed of all that they +might say: and the fixed, unvarying quietude +of his face but rarely reveals the least suggestion +of his deeper feelings.</p> + +<p>Yet, at the present time, were you to +search the world around, you should hardly +find a happier man than this, in his own serene +and thoughtful way. For, in his own words, +"I have an incomparable wife. There is no +happiness equal to that. If you could only +take a peep at us in our snug little artist +home!" Clara Wieck, whom he has known +from her childhood, whom he struggled, and +agonised, and fought for against fate, for five +long years of frustration and disappointment, +is not only his beloved wife and the mother of +his little ones,—she is his fellow-worker and +co-artist, and literal helpmate in every department +of life. She has "filled his life with +sunshine of love,"—and, "as a woman," he +declares, "she is a gift from heaven.... +Think of perfection, and I will agree to it!" +But, beyond that, she has poured her beautiful +soul into every hungry cranny of his artistic +sense. "For Clara's untiring zeal and energy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +in her art, she really deserves love and encouragement.... +I will say no more +of my happiness in possessing a girl with whom +I have grown to be one through art, intellectual +affinities, the regular intercourse of years, +and the deepest and holiest affection. My +whole life is one joyous activity."</p> + +<p>The annals of art, indeed, hold no more +lovely record of a union between natural +affinities. That of Robert and Elizabeth +Barrett Browning perhaps approximates most +closely to that of Robert and Clara Schumann. +But whereas in the former case both husband +and wife were alike engaged upon the same +branch of literature,—poetry,—and a certain +sense of sadness was apt to embitter the success +of the wife, because of the unpopularity (in +those days) of the husband,—Schumann is +solely and pre-eminently a composer, and Clara +solely and absorbingly a pianist. No shadow +of artistic rivalry can fall upon their delight, +nor darken their pleasure in each other's +achievements. Schumann's most impassioned +and characteristic productions have been definitely +inspired by Clara, ever since the days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +when, as a child of nine, she listened to his +fantastic fairy-tales, and her exquisite playing +thrilled him with a desire to think in music. +And Clara, who has never made a mere show +of her marvellous executive skill, but has +"consecrated it to the service of true art +alone,"—is never happier than when interpreting +her husband's works.</p> + +<p>It is, in short, necessary to deal with +Schumann as a whole,—as a man who has +fulfilled the triple destiny for which Nature +intended him,—as individual, husband, and +father,—before one can even approximately +understand this silent, studious dreamer, whose +one ideal of happiness is to sit at home and +compose.</p> + +<p>Schumann considers this early morning +hour the most precious of his day, from a +working standpoint. He seats himself at his +desk, and places his two treasures where they +shall catch his eye conspicuously; for he +regards them more or less as charms and +talismans to bring out the best that is in him. +They are, a steel pen which he found lying on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +Beethoven's grave at Vienna, and the MS. +score of Schubert's C-major Symphony, which +he obtained by a lucky chance. He regards +these with a mixture of sentiment and humorous +toleration of his own mysticism: but he +cherishes them none the less, and often casts a +reassuring glance in their direction, as he +covers sheet after sheet of paper with his +shockingly illegible handwriting. "Poets and +pianists," says he with resignation, "almost +always write with a dog's paw. The printers +will make it out somehow." He is engaged +upon his work in connection with the <i>Neue +Zeitschrift für Musik</i> (New Musical Times), +which he originally founded, and of which he +has been some nine years Editor. During all +these years he has contributed to its pages those +admirable reviews and appreciations which are +so utterly unlike anything heretofore attempted +in the realm of musical criticism. "There is +no quality to be desired in a musical critic that +Schumann does not possess:" and in addition +to technical equipments of every kind, keen +insight and an almost prophetic quality in his +predictions, he has the priceless gift too often +denied to the critic,—that of superabundant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +sympathy. His hands are ever thrown out to +welcome the young and timid genius, even as +they are clenched, so to speak, with threatening +fists towards Philistinism, charlatanism and +mediocrity. He loves to praise rather than to +blame, and to detect the germs of coming greatness +in some obscure, unsuspected artist. He +takes into his regard the personal equation +wherever possible, and does not separate the +musician from the man: for, he says, "the +man and the musician in myself have always +struggled to manifest themselves simultaneously.... +I speak with a certain diffidence of works, +of the precursors of which I know nothing. +I like to know something of the composer's +school, his youthful aspirations, his exemplars +and even of the actions and circumstances of +his life, and what he has done hitherto."</p> + +<p>As his pen travels rapidly over the pages, +the reason of his cramped and crabbed handwriting +is only too evident. Schumann's right +hand is crippled. In an evil hour of his youth, +while yet he was consumed with the ambition +of a would-be virtuoso, he experimented, with +artificial restrictions, upon one of his right-hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +fingers, intending thus to strengthen the rest by +assiduous practice ... with the result that +he lamed his hand for ever. This disastrous +attempt deprived the world of a good pianist, +but conferred upon it a great composer: for it +is possible that the executive would have +superseded the creative ability within him. +Nevertheless, he confesses that, "My lame +hand makes me wretched sometimes ... it +would mean so much if I were able to play. +What a relief to give utterance to all the music +surging within me! As it is, I can barely play +at all, but stumble along with my fingers all +mixed up together in a terrible way. It causes +me great distress."</p> + +<p>Thus, you perceive, he is considerably +debarred from expressing himself in sounds, no +less than in words: he must perforce retire +more and more within himself. The ease with +which he writes is balanced by the difficulty +with which he speaks: and bitterly he has +complained, "People are often at a loss to +understand me, and no wonder! I meet +affectionate advances with icy reserve, and +often wound and repel those who wish to help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +me.... It is not that I fail to appreciate the +very smallest attention, or to distinguish every +subtle change in expression and attitude: it is +a fatal something in my words and manner +which belies me."</p> + +<p>He is, indeed, only paralleled by the <i>Lotus +Flower</i> of his own delicious song,—shrinking +from the daylight of publicity, and softly +unfolding to the gentle rays of love.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Lotus flower is pining<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Under the sun's red light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly her head inclining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> She dreams and waits for the night.<br /></span></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon, who is her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Awakes her with his rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids her softly uncover<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Her veiled and gentle gaze.<br /></span></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now glowing, gleaming, throbbing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> She looks all mutely above,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is trembling, and sighing, and sobbing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> For love and the pangs of love.<br /></span></div> +(<i>Heine.</i>)<br /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>And here she enters the room, this woman +who is literally his <i>alter ego</i>, and the small +prattle of children is audible in the awakening +house. Madame Schumann is, in her husband's +words, a "pale, not pretty, but attractive" +young woman of twenty-six, "with black eyes +that speak volumes,"—slender, vivacious, +affectionate: the exact complement of Robert +in all respects. It is easy to perceive in them, +at the first glance, "two noble souls distinguished +by fastidious purity of character—two buoyant +minds concentrated to the service of the same +art." The heavily-thoughtful face of the +composer lights up with sudden sunshine.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit beside me, my dear, sweet +girl!" says he. "Hold your head a little to the +right, in the charming way you have, and let +me talk to you a little. Upon my word, +Clärchen, you look younger than ever this +morning. You cannot be the mother of three. +You cannot be the celebrated pianist. You +are just the queer, quaint little girl you were +ten years ago, with strong views of your own, +beautiful eyes, and a weakness for cherries!" +This is a very long speech for Schumann, and +his wife looks at him with a shade of anxiety—such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +anxiety as she is never wholly free from. +For the words which she wrote in her diary +on her wedding day were more prophetic than +even she may yet recognise: "My responsibilities +are heavy—very heavy; give me +strength to fulfil them as a good wife should. +God has always been and will continue to be +my helper. I have always had perfect trust +in Him, which I will ever preserve." She, and +she alone, is aware of all those mysterious +clouds of melancholia, those strange sounds of +inexplicable music, which brood at times above +her darling husband—friend, comrade and lover +in one. She, and she only, can banish, as +David did from Saul, the terrible phases of +irrational depression, and exorcise the evil +power which is always lurking ambushed in +Schumann's outwardly happy life.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/illus019.jpg" width="450" height="630" alt="THE LOTUS-FLOWER." title="" /> + +<div class="caption"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><b>THE LOTUS-FLOWER.</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Lotus flower is pining<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Under the sun's red light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly her head inclining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> She dreams and waits for the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Die Lotos-Blume</i>).<br /></span></div></div></div></div> + +<p>"See," says he, with modest pride, "what +a vast amount of work I have completed this +morning!"</p> + +<p>"You are a most diligent creature, +Robert!" she tells him, "and yet I cannot but +wish sometimes, that this literary work were +off your mind—that you had more time to +devote towards composing, which is your true<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +<i>métier</i>. I want all the world to understand +how great a master you are—I am jealous of +every minute spent upon the <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be too ambitious for me, Clärchen: +I desire no better place than a seat at the piano +with you close by."</p> + +<p>"That does not satisfy me," says the +impetuous little lady, "I want you to be recognised +and applauded by all men. When I am +rendering your divine compositions, I feel as +though all the while I were declaring: 'Just +hear this!—Just listen to that!—This is by +Robert Schumann, the greatest genius in +Germany: it is an honour to me to be +allowed to perform such works.'"</p> + +<p>"My dear, those compositions are my poor, +weak way of expressing my thoughts about you! +The battles which you have cost me, the joy +you have given me, are all reflected by my +music. You are almost the sole inspiration of +my best—the Concerto, the Sonata, the <i>Davidsbündler</i> +dances, the <i>Kreisleriana</i>, the <i>Novelletten</i>. +Why, dearest, in the <i>Novelletten</i> are my +thoughts of you in every possible position and +circumstance and all your irresistibleness!... +No one could have written the <i>Novelletten</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +unless he had gazed into such eyes and touched +such lips as yours. In short, another may do +better work, but nothing just like these."</p> + +<p>"That, indeed, I feel," replies Clara with +a little sigh, "and the very significance of their +meaning, I believe, forbids my doing full justice +to their amazing difficulties. You need a pianist +like Liszt, my Robert, to interpret you to the +best advantage."</p> + +<p>"I have every admiration for Liszt's +wonderful playing, with its diapason of all the +moods between the extremes of fiery frenzy, +and utmost delicacy. But his world is not mine—not +ours, Clärchen. Art, as we know it—you +when you play, I when I compose—has an +intimate charm that is worth far more to us +than all Liszt's splendour and tinsel."</p> + +<p>They embrace with the warmth and sweetness +of perfect mutual comprehension: and she +prevails upon him to descend from cloudy +Olympian editorial heights, so far as to refresh +himself with a modest <i>Frühstück</i> or breakfast, +and a brief gambol with the little ones—for he +has that devotion to tiny children characteristic +of all great men. Never, perhaps, has any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +composer so thoroughly entered into childish +griefs and fears and pleasures—the April +shower and shine of babyhood—than Schumann +in his <i>Kinderscenen</i>. The consummate musician +who has surmounted every difficulty, acquainted +himself with every method of his art—the man +who has mastered the forms of symphony, +chamber-music, pianoforte and vocal music to +their farthest present limits—here stands forth +as the exponent of little innocent every-day +emotions. <i>By the Fireside</i>, <i>Bogeys</i>, <i>A Child's +Petition</i>, <i>From Foreign Lands</i>, <i>Blindman's Buff</i>, +and so on, the simple titles run. "They are +descriptive enough, you see, and as easy as +winking!" he has told his wife. And they are +the very breath of childhood,—they "dally +with the innocence of love, like the old age." +Nobody could have imagined them but a man +who had eternal youth in his heart. "The +dissonances are as softly blended as if a child +had actually poured forth its pure soul."</p> + +<p>It may readily be imagined with what looks +askance the composer of the <i>Kinderscenen</i> is +favoured by his academic and hide-bound +contemporaries. "Romanticism run mad"—"modernism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +gone crazy;"—"discordant +innovations;"—"new-fangled nonsense"—there +are few terms too harsh for Herr +Schumann; and sometimes he is contemptuously +ignored as beyond all possibility of classification. +Already sufficiently <i>outré</i>, in the opinion of all +conventional musicians, by his adoption of the +cyclical form, rather than the orthodox classical, +for his abstract pianoforte music—"the whole +becoming organic by means of the intimate +connection between the various parts;"—already +sufficiently outlandish, in the estimation +of the average conservative critic, by what is +condemned as his <i>grotesquerie</i> and <i>bizarrerie</i> of +treatment: Schumann is not careful to answer +his opponents, or to defend himself from any +charges of <i>lèse-majesté</i> against the imperial art +which he serves. That wide and genial +tolerance which he extends towards all new +composers, he does not demand or even expect +for himself. Nevertheless, as he allows, "I +used to be quite indifferent to the amount of +notice I received, but a wife and children put +a different complexion upon everything. It +becomes imperative to think of the future." +And he is aware that his own personal idiosyncrasies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +are the strongest obstacle in his way; +for he is unable to push or praise himself in the +least, and the lordly egotism by dint of which +other composers win, or command, a hearing, +has been entirely omitted from the making of +this dumb genius. He knows no professional +jealousy, he never speaks ill of a soul;—but +then, one might say that he hardly ever spoke +at all. He is almost unknown in society,—partly +because he really has no interest whatever +apart from music, partly owing to his silent +manner and retiring disposition. It is on record +that one day after Madame Schumann had been +playing with tremendous success at one of the +smaller German courts, the Serene Highness +who was ruler there enquired of her with great +affability, "whether her husband were also +musical?" And with his fellow-musicians he +is so invincibly taciturn that conversation is +almost a farce. Even Wagner, whose powers +of loquacity are almost illimitable, resents being +reduced to the utterance of an absolute monologue. +"When I came to see Schumann," he +grumbles, "I related to him my Parisian +experiences, spoke of the state of music in +France, then of that in Germany, spoke of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +literature and politics,—but he remained as good +as dumb for nearly an hour. Now, one cannot +go on talking <i>quite</i> alone. An impossible man!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/illus029.jpg" width="450" height="630" alt="THE KNIGHT AND THE LORELEI." title="" /> + +<div class="caption"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><b>THE KNIGHT AND THE LORELEI.</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hour is late, the night is cold,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who through the forest rides so bold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood is wide,—thou art alone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lovely maid, be thou my own!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Waldesgesprach</i>).<br /></span></div></div></div></div> + +<p>The fact is, that the "impossible man" +dwells apart in a world of his own, a world +peopled by the best folk he has ever encountered +either in the flesh or the spirit, and a world +where the austerest canons and noblest aspirations +of his great art are upheld on a very +different plane from that of Leipzig. He has the +highest possible view of his vocation and what +it should entail. "To send light into the depths +of the human heart, that is the artistic calling," +he has declared.... "The artist is to choose +for his companions those who can do something +beyond playing passably on one or two instruments—those +who are whole men and can +understand Shakespeare and Jean Paul.... +People say, 'It pleased,' or 'It did not please,'—as +if there were nothing higher than pleasing +the public!"... A man with such notions +as these, in the first half of the nineteenth +century, must of necessity live and move to a +great extent in an ideal atmosphere of his own: +and Schumann, to do so the more literally, has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +created his own company in that "spiritual and +romantic league," the <i>Davidsbund</i>, which exists +only in his imagination, but exercises considerable +vigour none the less.</p> + +<p>The <i>Davidsbund</i> is a mystical community of +kindred souls, each enlisted, with or without his +knowledge, under the banner of "a resolve to +do battle in the cause of musical progress, +against Philistinism in every form." One can +only vaguely compare it to the Pre-Raphaelite +Brotherhood in England. "Mozart was as +much a member of it as Berlioz now is," so +declares its founder. Chopin, Julius Knorr, +Schuncke, Carl Banck and others, without any +form of enrolment, are members of the Davidite +fraternity. New names and old are added +from time to time, in the friendly columns of +the <i>Neue Zeitschrift für Musik</i>, which is the +organ of the league: and especially Schumann +himself appears under a number of <i>noms de +guerre</i>, representing the manifold facets of his +identity. As <i>Florestan</i>, he speaks for "the +turbulent and impulsive side of his nature, full +of imaginative activity;" as <i>Eusebius</i>, he +expresses those gentle, thoughtful, sensitive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +qualities which sit so lovably upon him. As +<i>Meister Raro</i>, calmly logical, he stands between +both the above, and, "acting as arbitrator, +sums up their opposing criticisms," much as his +father-in-law Friedrich Wieck the great professor +might do. To light-hearted, humorous, +almost frivolous critiques he signs himself +<i>Jeanquirit</i>: and last, not least of the "Davidites," +he introduces Mendelssohn as <i>Meritis</i>, and +embodies varying traits of his beloved Clara +as <i>Zilia</i>, <i>Chiarina</i>, and <i>Cecilia</i>.... Call it +feather-brained, fantastic, ridiculous, if you will, +the <i>Davidsbund</i> has a very definite meaning, and +fulfils a very noble purpose. For, to use its +inventor's own phrase, "In every age there is +a secret band of kindred spirits. Ye who are +of this fellowship, see that ye weld the circle +firmly, that so the truth of Art may shine ever +more and more clearly, shedding joy and +blessing far and near."</p> + +<p>That remarkable power of expressing the +personalities of his friends in music, which has +been Schumann's from youth, stands him in +good stead for the depicting of various "Davidites": +he could show the peculiar characteristics<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +of any one of them in a few moments, on the +pianoforte, whereas years would not suffice him +to give a verbal explanation. This power of +portrayal is noticeable in the very construction +of his songs,—such as, for instance, <i>The Two +Grenadiers</i>, or <i>Freedom</i>, or <i>The Hidalgo</i>, with its +essentially Spanish arrogance.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My days I spend in courting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With songs and hearts a-sporting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Or weaponed for a fight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fragrant darkness daring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaily forth am faring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> To roam the streets by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love or war preparing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> With bearing proud and light....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon her light is flinging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The powers of Love are springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> And sombre passions burn ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wounds or blossoms bringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> To-morrow I'll return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er the horizon darkling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first faint star is sparkling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> All prudence cold I spurn,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wounds or blossoms bringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> To-morrow I'll return!<br /></span></div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the course of the morning Schumann, +reluctantly leaving a mass of unfinished MSS. +upon his desk and pianoforte, betakes himself +to his duties at the Conservatorium, where he +has been professor for about a year. Conscientious +and painstaking in tuition as in all else, he +is not naturally a good teacher. He seems to +be devoid of the priceless power of imparting +verbal instruction, or of imparting the secret of +the system whereby a desired effect shall be +attained. His habitual and increasing melancholy +reserve rises up like a barrier between +himself and his pupils: his reticence chills and +bewilders them. His own musical education +has been an entirely personal matter, and not +wrought out upon the accepted scholastic lines. +Moreover, intercourse with musical people has +always "appealed to Schumann far more, and +with greater success, than dry lessons in +thorough bass and counterpoint." Hence, +whilst he appears almost unable to assist the +novice in the beginning, or tadpole stage, he is +able to afford invaluable help and stimulating +criticism to those young artists with whom he +may come in contact, and who adore him for +his sympathetic kindness. The violinist Joachim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +never forgot how, as a boy of thirteen, he +played the <i>Kreutzer</i> sonata with his host at the +house of Mendelssohn. Lonely and silent all +the while, Schumann remained in a corner of the +room; but subsequently, while Joachim was +sitting near him, he leaned forward and pointed +to the stars, shining down into the room through +the open window. He patted the lad's knee +with gentle, friendly encouragement. "Do +you think they know up there" he queried, +"that a little boy has been playing down here +with Mendelssohn?"—This question was the +very essence of Schumann,—romantic, mystical, +full of tender dreams.</p> + +<p>His composition-lessons over, he conducts +a part-singing class. Orchestral conducting is +abhorrent to him; it is "too defiant and conspicuous +a task." He cannot make his meaning +clear by word of mouth: and in gesture he is +singularly deficient. But in part-singing he is +an excellent instructor, because he is seated at +the piano and can indicate there the suggestion +which he fails to convey <i>viva-voce</i>. Even now, +in the wreck of his abilities as a pianist, it is +possible to imagine what he might have been:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +he can produce an extraordinary depth and +richness of tone, seeming to obtain some of his +effects by unusual and almost illegitimate means. +His accentuation is very slight, and he uses both +pedals too frequently and too freely. Notwithstanding +these peculiarities, however, the same +indefinable magic pervades his piano-playing as +his compositions.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/illus039.jpg" width="450" height="630" alt="I WILL NOT CHIDE." title="" /> + +<div class="caption"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><b>I WILL NOT CHIDE.</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will not chide, although my heart should break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all my hopes have died, lost Love, for thy dear sake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> I will not chide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Ich grolle nicht</i>).<br /></span></div></div></div></div> + +<p>Nervous, excitable, uneasy, the master +draws a breath of relief when the class is dismissed. +The pleasant Hebraic face of Mendelssohn +nods in at his door in passing. The two +musicians are so busily engaged, that often they +hardly exchange a word for weeks together. +Mendelssohn, the recipient of many a generous +and whole-hearted encomium from his devotee +Schumann, does not return this fraternal +enthusiasm. To his well-balanced mind, the +silent moody man and his productions are too +wild, too eccentric, too uncanny. He regards +them, at times, with a species of grudging +admiration: at others, he sides in heart, if not +in speech, with the current opinion of the town. +"Opposition to all artistic progress has always +been a distinctive characteristic of Leipzig<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +musical society," and therefore horror-stricken +hands are uplifted at the editor of the <i>Neue +Zeitschrift für Musik</i>, his heretical doctrines, and +still more heretical deeds. The good people of +the Thomas-School Choral Society, the audience +at the Gewandhaus concerts, the subscribers to +opposition musical papers, regard Herr +Schumann very much as the knight regarded +the lady at the close of his own magnificent +<i>Waldesgesprach</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The hour is late, the night is cold,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who through the forest rides so bold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood is wide,—thou art alone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lovely maid, be thou my own!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Great is the craft and guile of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With grief my heart is rent in twain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far sounds the bugle to and fro,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away! my name thou dost not know!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy steed and thou so bright array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wondrous fair, thou lovely maid,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—I know thee now! God! let me fly!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art the fairy Lorelei!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou know'st me now—my towers do shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep mirror'd in the dark blue Rhine,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind blows cold, the day is o'er,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt escape me never more!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the afternoon, Schumann, back at home, +is occupied with creative work. This, perhaps, +is the most congenial part of his day: for, as it +has been said of him, he sees life musically, and +whatever happens to impress him takes the +form of music. Steadily, deliberately, of set +purpose, and yet with the authentic fire of +divine inspiration infusing his smallest effort, he +has conquered, one by one, in every field of +creative art. His finest pianoforte works were +composed during the wretched years of strain +and stress whilst he was waiting to marry Clara, +held apart from her by her jealous and inexorable +father, until (again like the Brownings) the +lovers took matters into their own hands and +were married in sudden and in secret. Three +of his four great symphonies saw the light in +one year, 1841,—an achievement truly colossal. +Last year, 1843, he was studying and perfecting +himself in chamber music. His life, outwardly +so uneventful, has been abnormally prolific in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +brain-work: and that of no fatal fluency or +shallow meretriciousness, but conceived upon +the highest possible plane. "The more clearly +we examine Schumann's ideas," says Liszt, +"the more power and life do we discover in +them: and the more we study them, the more +are we amazed at the wealth and fertility which +had before escaped us." And his own theories +of art are bound to evolve themselves thus:—for +"Only think," he has written, "what +circumstances must be combined to produce +the beautiful in all its dignity and splendour. +We need,—1st, lofty deep purposes and ideality +in a composition; 2nd, enthusiasm in description; +3rd, masterly execution and harmony of +action, closely combined; 4th, innate desire for +giving and receiving, a momentarily favourable +mood (on both sides, that of listener and performer); +5th, the most fortunate conjunction +of the relatives of time, as well as of the more +especial question of place and other accessories; +6th, sympathy of impression, feelings and ideas—a +reflection of artistic pleasure in the eyes of +others."</p> + +<p>And these definitions apply in all their +detail to the outcome of Schumann's happiest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +year of all,—the year after his union with Clara,—the +time when like a bird he burst into infinite +ecstasy of melody, and eclipsed himself with the +number, variety and bewildering beauty of his +vocal compositions. That perfect balance +between words and music, that power of +identifying himself with the poet whose words +he "sets," which pre-eminently differentiates +Schumann from all other musicians, was born +of "hopes fulfilled and mutual love." There +are no songs which can compare with his, in +passionate intensity and depth of emotion. It +may be that only the skilled and sympathetic +musician can interpret them with full effect: +but the least expert auditor can be poignantly +affected by them. Especially is this the +case with his treatments of Heine,—the one +poet <i>par excellence</i> in whom he discovers all he +can desire of power, of pathos and of passion. +"The lyrics <i>Die Lotos-blume</i> (The Lotus-flower) +and <i>Du bist wie eine Blume</i> (Thou art like unto a +flower) are among the most perfect things found +in the realms of song, in their enchanting truth +and delicacy of sentiment"; and "not one of all +those subtle touches ... which make Heine's +poetry what it is, has been lost upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +Schumann." <i>Ich grolle nicht</i> (I will not chide) +is unapproachable in its white-heat of uttermost +despair.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will not chide, although my heart should break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all my hopes have died, lost Love, for thy dear sake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> I will not chide.<br /></span> + +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though thou be bright bedeck'd with diamond-shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No ray of joy illumines that heart of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> I know full well!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">I will not chide, although my heart should break,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> I saw it all in dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the night that thro' thy soul is streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the snake that on thy heart doth feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw, my love, how sad thou art indeed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> I will not chide!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Die Beiden Grenadieren</i> (The Two Grenadiers), +with Schumann's favourite <i>Marseillaise</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +introduced in such masterly fashion at the end, +remains an unrivalled utterance of manly and +patriotic grief.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To France were returning two Grenadiers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> In Russia they long did languish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as they came to the German frontier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> They hung down their heads with anguish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas then that they heard the story of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> That France was forlorn and forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besieged and defeated, and crushed by the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> And the Emp'ror, their Emp'ror was taken!<br /></span></div> + +<span class="i0">* * * * * </span> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My cross of honour and crimson band<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Lay on my heart right surely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My musket place within my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> And gird my sword securely:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So will I lie there and harken, dumb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Like sentry when hosts are camping,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I hear the roar of the cannon come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> And the chargers above are tramping!<br /></span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Above me shall ride then my Emp'ror so brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> While swords are flashing and clashing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> While sabres are fiercely contending,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that hour of his need I will rise from the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> The cause of my Emp'ror defending!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And in his song-cycle <i>Frauen-lieben und +Leben</i> (Woman's Life and Love) he has evinced +"extraordinary depths of penetration into a +side of human character which men are generally +supposed incapable of understanding—the +intensity and endurance of a pure woman's +love."... Yet who should know it if he +does not?...</p> + +<p>Towards evening, various folk drop in by +ones and twos,—musical acquaintances, it need +hardly be said, for there is no other topic than +that of their art which they can discuss with +Robert Schumann. The discussion may possibly +be on their part only, with a man like this, of +whom it is told that one day he went into a +friend's house, whistling softly <i>sotto voce</i>,—and, +with nothing but a cheery nod, walked to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +piano and opened it,—played a few chords,—made +a modulation, and returned to the original +key,—shut the piano, gave another courteous +nod, and—exit, in utter silence! He is, indeed, +capable of sitting for hours in the midst of a +merry chattering company, completely lost in +thought, employed upon the evolution of some +musical thought. But when he <i>does</i> speak, his +words are all altruistically ardent, full of eager +praise and joyful appreciation for the great +names of music, whose excellencies he loves to +point out. "The great masters, it is to them +I go," he avows with the humility of a child,—"to +Gluck the simple, to Händel the complicated, +and to Bach the most complicated of all." His +admiration of "John Sebastian" is boundless. +"I always flee to Bach, and he gives me fresh +strength and desire for life and work.... +The profound combinations, the poetry and +humour of the new school of music principally +emanate from Bach."</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/illus049.jpg" width="450" height="625" alt="THE TWO GRENADIERS." title="" /> + +<div class="caption"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><b>THE TWO GRENADIERS.</b><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To France were returning two Grenadiers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> In Russia they long did languish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as they came to the German frontier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> They hung down their heads with anguish.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Die Beiden Grenadieren</i>).<br /></span></div></div></div></div> + +<p>Mozart is to him, as to all great artists, a +veritable divinity. "Do not put Beethoven," +says he, "too soon into the hands of the young: +steep and strengthen them in the fresh animation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +of Mozart.... The music of the first act of +<i>Figaro</i> I consider the most heavenly that Mozart +ever wrote." And with his customary absolute +freedom from professional envy, he terms +Mendelssohn "the Mozart of the nineteenth +century," and will not even sit in the same room +with anyone who disparages him. He has upheld +with noble enthusiasm the merits of such rising +stars as Chopin, Heller, Gade, Sterndale-Bennett, +Berlioz, Franz, and Brahms. He has, it may be +said, only one <i>bête noir</i>, the blatant and flamboyant +Meyerbeer. Regarding Wagner, his +opinion is in abeyance. "Wagner is a man of +education and spirit ... certainly a clever +fellow, full of crazy ideas, and audacious to a +degree.... Yet he cannot write or think of +four consecutive lines of beautiful, hardly of +good, music." So Schumann has delivered +himself at one time; but he is ready to revoke +this judgment, and to declare, "I must take +back one or two things I said after reading the +score of <i>Tannhäuser</i>; it makes quite a different +effect on the stage. Much of it impressed me +deeply."</p> + +<p>When his guests depart, Schumann accompanies +them a little way, that he may, according +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>to his invariable custom, spend an hour or so of +the evening at Popper's Restaurant. There, +should his friend Verhulst be present, he enjoys +what is for him a free and animated conversation—otherwise, +among the chink of glasses and +clank of plates, he remains aloof and meditative.</p> + +<p>Evening darkens slowly into the calm +spring night,—that <i>Frühlingsnacht</i> which he has +set forth in such exquisite music—as he regains +his home and rejoins his wife. She is practising +softly lest the children awaken, but rises with a +smile of joy, and receives her husband as though +he had been a year away. Side by side, holding +each others' hands, they sit by the window and +inhale the sweet April air. A sense of beatitude +encompasses them.</p> + +<p>"Hast thou done well to-day, Robert?" +she enquires.</p> + +<p>"Well? Yes—very well: better than I +hoped or expected. A soft voice seemed to +whisper to me whilst I worked, 'It is not in vain +that thou art writing.'... But in such an +hour as this, my Clara, I long more deeply to +give expression to my holiest thoughts. To +apply his powers to sacred music must always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +be the loftiest aim of an artist. In youth we +are all too firmly rooted to earth with its joys +and sorrows: but with advancing age, our +branches extend higher. And so I hope the +time for my efforts in this direction is not far +distant."</p> + +<p>"It is, then, at present, eluding you—the +study of sacred music?"</p> + +<p>"It demands a power of treating the chorus—a +knowledge of superb <i>ensemble</i> and massive +effects to which I have not yet attained." And +he heaves a sigh as of one faced with mighty +problems. For to this man, "from whom the +knowledge of no emotion in the individual heart +is withheld, it is a matter of extreme difficulty +to give expression to ... those feelings +which affect the whole of mankind in common."</p> + +<p>"For you, who can realize human love so +devoutly, there should be no eventual hindrance +to the expression of love towards God," says +the little dark-eyed woman, pressing his hand +with warm devotion.</p> + +<p>"You yourself are the concrete expression +of love towards God," the composer murmurs, +gazing down at her in the twilight—"you and +your music together. If I once said I loved you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +because of your goodness, it is only half true. +Everything is so harmoniously combined in +your nature, that I cannot think of you apart +from your music—and so I love you one with +the other." A sudden spasm contracts his face +as he speaks—he turns his head wildly to and +fro.</p> + +<p>"Robert!" she exclaims, "what is the +matter? You shuddered—your hand has gone +cold and clammy. What ails you?"</p> + +<p>"What are those distant wind-instruments?" +he asks in awestruck tones. "What are they +playing? Don't you hear? Such harmonies +are too beautiful for earth...."</p> + +<p>Clara strains her ears into the stillness. +"There is nothing—nothing audible whatever," +she asseverates. "Robert, you are ill—you +have overworked your head—"</p> + +<p>"I have heard them before ... beautiful, +beautiful!—Ah! now they are silent!" and he +passes his hand over his brow with a bewildered +air.</p> + +<p>"Come, dearest, you are overwearied—come +and sleep sweetly." Schumann permits +himself to be led away from the window by his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +anxious wife: slowly he regains his composure.</p> + +<p>"My little treasure!" he whispers, clasping +her tenderly, "what should I be without your +loving care of me? Clärchen ... Schumann ... +I wonder whether an angel imagined the +names together?"</p> + +<p>"May that angel guard thee, Robert," says +she, "and all that is thine and mine, for ever."</p> + +<p>The open piano glistens whitely in the +darkness: she closes it as they leave the room.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/illus058.png" width="225" height="161" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class="center"> +<i>Printed by Percy Lund, Humphries & Co., Ltd.<br /> +Bradford and London.</i> <i>4880</i><br /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p class="center"> +<b>Transcriber's notes:</b><br /> + + Punctuation has been normalized.<br /> +<br /> + Page 10: "Barret" changed to "Barrett."<br /> + "Elizabeth Barrett Browning".<br /> +<br /> + Page 21: "pevote" changed to "devote."<br /> + "... more time to devote towards composing".<br /> +<br /> + Page 23: "frühstück" changed to "Frühstück."<br /> + "... a modest <i>Frühstück</i> or breakfast".<br /> +<br /> + Page 45: "blume" changed to "Blume."<br /> + "The lyrics <i>Die Lotos-blume</i>".<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Day with Robert Schumann, by May Byron + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT SCHUMANN *** + +***** This file should be named 36472-h.htm or 36472-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/7/36472/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, paksenarrion and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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