EVERY professional musician or music-loving amateur, who examines the individual influence exerted by our great masters upon himself, should always hold in especial veneration the name of Robert Schumann. What an important factor in our dearest recollections is formed by his music, whether enjoyed in great orchestral, choral or chamber concerts, or in the familiarity and reserve of our homes! In how many directions have his compositions and writings influenced our musical feeling, knowledge and taste! That which has so early endeared itself to us must necessarily remain a lifelong companion, must, indeed, become a part of our soul; and this particular corner in our musical heart occupied by Schumann constantly requires fresh recognition of that spirit, which has found expression in such an enchanting language. Schumann being, however, a true German, both personally and artistically, the essence of this spirit is not readily recognized by foreigners. What the latter admire in him, the Germans love, and if they wish to express that which in Schumann's music is worthy of their highest esteem, they use words for which it would be difficult to find an exact equivalent in the French, English or Italian languages; as for instance, GemÜth, Innigkeit, Sinnigkeit and SchwÄrmerei. This is particularly true in the case of his vocal compositions, which suffer in translation both poetically and musically more than similar works of any other composer and are for this reason far from being fully appreciated outside of German speaking countries. Schumann's instrumental works, on the contrary, have made his name famous wherever music has become the object of a widespread interest.

Robert Schumann's career was not rich in striking events of a general interest, but it was of a more solitary character, revealing the inward life of a poetic dreamer whose language was to be music; of an artist who paved the way for a new and brilliant epoch of his art, who enlarged its domain, fought for its dignity, and by the splendid example of his own productions proved the possibility of his artistic creed. His works were his life; in him there was the closest union of man and artist. Just as a knowledge of his life and personal character helps us to understand his music, so the study of the latter reveals to us the man, for his works are not merely results of a natural or an acquired ability, but they form the musical history of the life of his soul.

The twenty years during which Schumann personally exerted a great influence upon the musical world cover a red-letter period of this century. Only a few years before, Beethoven, Schubert and Weber had died, closing the great epoch of the classic masters, while at the same time preparing a new one with new ideals and new prospects. In the centre of the musical world stood the masters of French and Italian opera: Auber, HalÉvy, Bellini, Donizetti, and soon Meyerbeer, while such men as Cherubini, MÉhul and Boieldieu had already stepped into the background. Germany still had Spohr and a number of less famous composers excelling in some special field, as for instance, Marschner in opera, Lachner in song and instrumental music, LÖwe in ballads and oratorios, Hummel and Moscheles in pianoforte music; but they all were far surpassed by the brilliant sun of Mendelssohn which had just risen. He, born in 1809, heads the list of those distinguished names, which opened a new epoch of our art, mainly represented beside himself by Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, Wagner, Franz, and their great French contemporary, Berlioz. Italian and French opera, and an exhibition of meaningless technical virtuosity, formed the general musical taste; Beethoven was neglected, Schubert hardly known; and it looks as if by some kind device of nature just in the right time a resurrection of the higher conception of art was brought about, no one assisting more in the great work than Robert Schumann. He was equipped not only with rarest creative gifts, but also with a superior intellect, a high general culture and a thorough and sincere character, which enabled him to persevere in his great undertaking with unflagging zeal. Alas! why has not nature been more kind to him? Why has not one so deserving been spared the saddest of all fates? Perhaps it was to make his memory still dearer to us, to increase our veneration for him so that even weaknesses or errors in his life or works elicit from us an honest sympathy, which increases whenever we read his many published letters or the story of his life as told by able and sympathetic writers like Wasielewski, Spitta, Reissmann, and others.

Robert Schumann was born on the 8th of June, 1810, in the town of Zwickau, Saxony. Neither his birthplace, nor his ancestry, were such as to favor an early development of his musical talent. His father, August Schumann, son of a minister, had, after a long struggle between business and poetry, finally entered into partnership with a brother as a bookseller, and became widely known as a publisher of valuable books and magazines, and besides as an author. He had a particular fondness for English poets, such as Milton, Scott, and Byron, whose "Beppo" and "Childe Harold" he translated into German. He was a self-made man, who owed all his success to his own untiring energy. His wife, Johanna Christiana Schnabel, whom he won only after a severe struggle, was the daughter of the town-surgeon in Zeitz; she is described as an agreeable lady, of kind disposition, deep feeling and a certain romantic sentimentality, which was also a conspicuous feature of Robert's nature. Her loving care and motherly anxiety for her son is well known to all readers of young Schumann's correspondence.

Robert was the youngest of five children. His older brothers entered upon a business career, and his only sister died in her twentieth year in a state of incurable melancholy. The handsome little boy was petted by everybody and much surrounded by women. He received his education first in a popular private school, later in the public schools, receiving piano instruction from a school teacher, Baccalaureus Kuntzsch, when only six years old. Kuntzsch, who was not a professional musician, at least taught him the most indispensable elements and was held in highest esteem by Schumann till his death. Little Robert early showed a disposition to lead his playmates. One particular friend was chosen to assist in four-hand pieces and a small boys' orchestra was even formed, which Robert directed and for which he made his first efforts as a composer, without having had any theoretical instruction. There were overtures, even operatic sketches, and especially a setting of the 150th psalm for chorus and orchestra, written in Schumann's twelfth year. He also showed a rare skill in improvising on the pianoforte, trying to portray certain persons or dispositions. In public he played the accompaniment of Schneider's oratorio "The Day of Judgment." He was very fond of poetry and private theatricals, but his love of music, which was rapidly increasing, surpassed everything else. This was particularly noticeable after the summer of 1819, when he attended a concert given by Moscheles in Carlsbad. The father had now become convinced that Providence intended Robert for a musician, and notwithstanding all the violent objections on the part of his wife, who foresaw nothing but a career full of deprivations, he applied to Carl Maria von Weber, in Dresden, as a teacher for his son. Weber consented to accept Robert as a pupil, but for unknown reasons the excellent plan was abandoned and the boy's golden opportunity was lost. In spite of this neglect of early and well directed training (which may explain why his first compositions were so original in character and style), Schumann instinctively kept steadily on in the right path, a fact that greatly increases our admiration for him. Thus he pursued his musical studies at home, besides reading as much as possible, and helping his father in his compilations and translations. But already then he began to grow more and more reserved and reflective, loving to be alone, in a world of imagination and dreams. That great romanticist and humorist Jean Paul Friedrich Richter had completely enchanted him; he knew his novels almost by heart and never ceased to adore him as the richest source for his own imagination.

In 1826 Schumann met with a severe loss in the death of his father, who left the responsibility of the lad's future in the hands of his mother and his guardian, the merchant Rudel. They wished him to learn some profession that would promise a safe position early in life, and obediently submitting, he was inscribed as a law student at the university of Leipsic. Before this he had graduated brilliantly from the Zwickau Academy and had made a trip to Southern Germany with a friend, visiting, among other places, Bayreuth, where he stopped at Jean Paul's home, and Munich, where he met Heinrich Heine.

The young law student had not been long in Leipsic, when he began to thoroughly dislike the chosen profession as well as the noisy student life. To the enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven, Schubert, Jean Paul and Shakespeare the law seemed utterly dry and uninteresting. However he promised his guardian that he would pursue his legal studies, although strong signs of a melancholy disposition had begun to make their appearance. He joined some students' societies, but preferred the company of a few friends who were also much given to musical and poetic dreamings. In the house of Professor Carus, whose wife was a clever singer, his musical penchant found all desired satisfaction; here he met Marschner and Friedrich Wieck, the eminent piano teacher, father of that wonderful little Clara who, then nine years old, had already become famous as a piano-player of rare ability. With his mother's consent Schumann became Wieck's pupil, enjoying at last a rational method of technical education, though still neglecting and even despising all theoretical studies. In February, 1829, Wieck's instruction ended, Schumann gaining more time for ensemble playing. Beethoven's and Prince Louis Ferdinand's chamber compositions were frequently rendered, but especially the works of Franz Schubert, whose early death in the preceding year had impressed Schumann very deeply. Bach's "Well-tempered Clavichord" never left his piano. Happy in extemporizing all kinds of new melodies and harmonies, controlled only by his musical instinct, he wrote a number of songs and piano pieces, and even a pianoforte quartet, none of which have ever been published. The law lectures he neglected, but was much interested in those on the great German philosophers Kant, Fichte and Schelling. The next year he spent in Heidelberg, that romantic old town so beautifully situated in the neighborhood of Switzerland and Italy. Here Schumann met the eminent pandectist Thibaut; but even this great professor was unable to overcome the student's aversion for the legal profession. Again music became the centre of his existence. Life was charming, the time being much occupied by social events and trips which were made to the neighboring towns and valleys. On these occasions Schumann used to practice on a dumb piano even when riding in a carriage. In the fall he enjoyed a delightful trip to Switzerland and upper Italy, and the spirit in which he describes his impressions, changing from wit or rapture into melancholy, from admiration into home-sickness, is very characteristic of his peculiar nature. The stay in Heidleberg was prolonged for another term, which, however, was again mainly devoted to piano study and composition, it being here that he composed his first piano pieces. His skill being widely known, he was often invited to parties, appearing also in a public concert, where he played variations by Moscheles. The struggle between filial obedience and loyalty to his genius had now reached its climax. At a concert given by Paganini in Frankfort, he was deeply impressed, and resolved to live no longer in uncertainty. Accordingly in July, 1830, he sent his mother that famous letter in which he pleads that his future must be devoted to art, and offers to submit unreservedly to the decision of Wieck. To his immense delight the latter's advice was favorable and removed all doubts and objections. Thus Schumann returned to Leipsic as an enthusiastic student of his beloved art.

Of the four ways in which a musician may shape his practical career, teaching, conducting, playing and composing, Schumann chose the last two as being most congenial to him, aiming particularly at the greatest possible virtuosity. He devoted himself to mechanical exercises with an almost sacred energy, even inventing devices to promote his abilities in shorter time than a natural development would allow. At the same time he continued composing, and though having no thorough instruction, he found by his wonderful instinct an adequate form for the expression of his feelings and ideas, a form which could not be called unmusical or amateurish. Indeed in looking to-day at these earlier compositions, we forget that they were written by a man who was only half educated in music, and we admire the genius which guided him in finding the truest language for his rich musical nature. But this was not all. His highly cultivated mind, his desire to promote art by every possible means, compelled him to become also a leading literary champion of its interests. Leipsic was at that time a great musical centre, although the famous epoch only began in 1835, when Mendelssohn was appointed conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra.

Before this, however, Schumann had to experience a sad disappointment. A gradually increasing lameness of the middle finger of the right hand (a consequence of his mechanical contrivances) spoiled every hope of his becoming a virtuoso. In spite of this new obstacle he devoted himself only the more to composition, and feeling sadly the lack of the necessary theoretical instruction, applied to Dorn, conductor of the opera, for lessons. During the winter 1832-33 he stayed with his family in Zwickau, where, in a concert given by Clara Wieck, he conducted the first movement of an unpublished symphony in G minor.

Schumann was fortunate in being so well situated pecuniarily that he was not obliged to earn his living during the years of the development of his genius. After his return to Leipsic he studied in private, surrounding himself with a few talented friends. Not content with their own mutual instruction in the spirit and beauty of old masterworks, and the enthusiastic appreciation of the productions of younger composers; firmly believing in the possibility of a new and brilliant epoch of musical art, these young men desired to do all in their power to realize their hopes. In pursuance of this idea they started a magazine, "Die neue Zeitschrift fÜr Musik," which for many years was destined to exercise a wide influence in Germany. Its principal mission was to plead for a more poetic conception of music, and this cause was presented in an entirely new poetic language. Poetry and prose, reality and fiction were combined in a very ingenious manner. A society of Davidites was founded, more in fiction than reality, not confined to a circle of enthusiasts, but comprising all the old masters as well as those then living, Mozart and Bach as well as Berlioz, Chopin and Mendelssohn. All writers of meaningless trivialities or dry, unpoetic formalities were attacked as "Philistines." In a similar way Schumann combined fiction and reality in this literary occupation by substituting for his own individuality three different characters, to personify the different sides of his nature, Florestan representing all that was passionate, manly, energetic; Eusebius embracing all that was sweet, tender or imaginative; with the more objective, experienced and reconciling figure of old Raro, acting as moderator of both. Some years before this paper was started, Schumann had made his literary debut by contributions to other magazines, his first work, when he was twenty-one years old, being that glorious article on Chopin's opus 2, giving a most poetic record of the feeling which the music of the rising genius had awakened within him. His own paper made its first appearance in April, 1834, and Schumann, who soon became its sole editor and proprietor, kept this position until 1844, when he took up his residence in Dresden. That small portion of his time which was unoccupied with journalistic work, was devoted to composing, the fruits being a number of piano works of striking originality and of a great variety of moods and forms.

Although Schumann's musical and literary occupations laid strong claim to his time and attention, yet much of his interest was absorbed by affairs of a private nature. For years he had watched closely the development of Clara Wieck; but warm as his feelings were for her, there was another young woman who for a while took possession of his heart, Ernestine von Fricken, daughter of a Bohemian baron from Asch, a name made famous through Schumann's "Carnival scenes," which are mostly based on the four notes corresponding with the letters of that town (also the only musical letters in his own name). This engagement was, however, broken in 1835, and the following years, so rich in musical and literary productions, were also marked by a continuous struggle for that wonderful artist, Clara Wieck, whose name was to become inseparably united with his own. Not only from his letters, but also from many compositions, we learn the extent of Schumann's sufferings from Wieck's obstinate refusal to give his daughter to one who had not yet gained a safe position and who was so far known more as a critic than as a composer. Schumann tried everything to improve his position, publishing his paper for a while in Vienna but without finding the desired success, and, after his return to Leipsic, procuring from the university of Jena the honorary degree of doctor of philosophy, on the ground of his writings and efforts in the interest of art. His stay in Vienna was not without influence on his future development as a composer, and it had, besides this, the great result of bringing to light some of Schubert's finest compositions, especially the symphony in C, which Schumann not only sent at once to Mendelssohn for its first glorious performance, but presented to the world in all its beauty through a wonderful article published in his magazine. His doctor diploma, dated Feb. 24, 1840, speaks in the highest terms of his merits as a composer and critic.

With all his efforts and his growing popularity, Schumann could not gain favor in the eyes of father Wieck; only after a long term of legal proceedings were the happy pair united in marriage, their wedding being celebrated in a church near Leipsic in Sept., 1840. It was a union of greatest importance not only to themselves but to music. Both were true companions in an ideal struggle, true Davidites and priests of art, Clara Schumann not only continuing her career as a splendid interpreter of the classics of Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Chopin and Schumann, but at the same time tenderly watching over her husband's health and temper, which was marked by a growing irritability. Honor though it was to be Robert Schumann's wife, it required a great character and supreme devotion. Looking at his happy family life, reading his expressions of gratitude, esteem and love for his wife; hearing those who have seen him play with his children, once more we say that it is not only the artist, but the man Schumann for whom we feel a deep sympathy and esteem. Yet his disposition was not wholly free from features of a less agreeable nature. His sensitiveness and taciturnity often made him appear in an unsympathetic light, or offend those who meant well with him. But this was only a sign of the deep-rooted disease, which developed so steadily and which so early wrecked his mind and body.

The culmination of Schumann's happiness being attained, his creative powers increased wonderfully. Now he felt compelled to confide the music of his soul to the human voice and suddenly appeared as a great master in a new field, by producing a wealth of songs, perfectly original in style, form and spirit. Love, of course, plays a prominent but not exclusive part in them. Yet his genius was seeking for still higher fields and larger forms. The following year was devoted to the composition of great orchestral works, three symphonies (two of which were published much later in different shape) and the first movement of the pianoforte concerto. In this higher sphere Schumann again proved himself a master, the first symphony in B-flat, given most successfully under Mendelssohn's direction, showing his genius at once in the most brilliant light. This fever for composing did not in the least abate in 1842, the year devoted to chamber music, when he wrote the three string quartets, the quintet and quartet for pianoforte and strings, which were unsurpassed by any later efforts. Far from being exhausted, in 1843 he completed besides the famous variations for two pianofortes, the great cantata "Paradise and the Peri." It was received most enthusiastically, and its success stimulated him to write a similar work of still higher order, the musical setting of the most difficult and mysterious scenes from the second part of Goethe's "Faust." Meanwhile he had continued the work for his musical journal, accompanied his wife to concerts in Hamburg and Russia, where he was highly honored as a composer, and had also filled a position as professor for pianoforte and composition at the new Conservatory opened in April, 1843, with Mendelssohn as director. Of this latter work of Schumann little has become known, and from his uncommunicative nature one has inferred that he lacked the talent of a true teacher. In 1844 he severed his connection with the Conservatory and with his journal also, and took up his residence in Dresden. Overwork and the exerting musical life in Leipsic had greatly increased his nervousness and he expected a speedy recovery in the royal capital, with its lovely surroundings and quiet life. However it took years to fully restore him. Yet in these very years Schumann wrote his glorious symphony in C, and devoted much time to strict contrapuntal studies, composing several works in this style. He finally took a more active part in Dresden's social life, keeping a friendly intercourse with other musicians, poets and artists, and a sincere interest in the opera, then directed by young Wagner. At that time the reform of the musical drama was in Dresden the centre of all musical interests, and Schumann felt a deep desire to solve the great problem in his own way.

We shall speak below more extensively about his only opera "Genoveva." Although it was completed in Dresden, in 1848, it had its first performance in the summer of 1850, in Leipsic, under his own direction. It was repeated there a few times, but was undeniably a great disappointment in spite of all its musical beauties. Schumann was deeply affected, disagreeing entirely with the critics as to the dramatic character of his work. Much more successful were the first performances of his music to "Faust," presented at the centenary of Goethe's birthday in Dresden, Leipsic and Weimar. Several years later Schumann added more numbers, but the entire work was given in its present shape only after his death.

In the winter of 1846-47, Robert and Clara Schumann made a trip to Vienna, where the latter played her husband's concerto (completed in 1845), and he conducted his first symphony. The Viennese admired her playing but showed far less appreciation for his music than the North Germans or even the Russians. In 1847, Schumann succeeded Hiller as director of the Dresden "Liedertafel," and in 1848 he started a mixed chorus, which afforded him more genuine pleasure than the male chorus. With them he gave the Faust music, and "Paradise and the Peri," studied Beethoven's great Mass in D, and began to believe in his abilities as a conductor to such a degree, that when, in 1849, it was rumored that Rietz, Mendelssohn's successor in Leipsic, was going to Berlin, Schumann eagerly applied for the high position. Rietz, however, remained. During these last years in Dresden, Schumann had finished a large number of chamber works, songs, duets, male, female and mixed choruses with or without accompaniment, piano pieces, and the music to Byron's "Manfred."

In 1850, Hiller again recommended Schumann to become his successor as director of the orchestral and choral concerts in DÜsseldorf, and a call being extended, it was readily accepted by the composer. For such a work he had neither the natural gifts nor the necessary preparation, his conducting being hesitating, his way of rehearsing not in the least instructive. Fluent as was his style in writing, he lacked the gift of easily imparting his ideas. However, he was received with high honors and for three seasons performed his new duties, also several times taking part in the great vocal festivals. All his works were listened to with delight; nevertheless it constantly became more evident that he was unfit for the position, and in 1853 his engagement was not renewed, the decision affecting him deeply. A visit to Leipsic made by the artists in 1852 for the performance of several novelties, was also rather disappointing, while the triumphant tour through Holland, at the end of 1853, forms the last sunny period of Schumann's life.

In these years he had composed feverishly, some of the results being such great and famous productions as the Rhenish symphony, the cantata, "the Pilgrimage of the Rose," several overtures, ballads for soli, chorus and orchestra, a mass, a requiem, several chamber works, songs, melodramas and pianoforte pieces. He also planned writing another opera on Schiller's "Bride of Messina" or Goethe's "Hermann and Dorothea," or a great popular oratorio on "Luther," but was forced to abandon the scheme. He was happiest amongst his children and was as talkative with them as reticent with others. Yet his old interest in new talents remained unabated and the way in which he encouraged young musicians, such as Reinecke, Meinardus, Dietrich, Joachim and especially Brahms, shows him in a most amiable light. But all this time that mysterious influence which had so early affected his mind, was daily gaining in strength. He was troubled so much by nervousness, a feeling of permanent anxiety, and even by hallucinations, that he became desirous of a medical treatment in a hospital. One night he rushed from his bed to write down a theme just sent to him by the spirits of Schubert and Mendelssohn. Nor was he free from superstitions, for instance passionately taking part in the practice of table moving. On February 22, 1854, soon after dinner, without any warning he left his house and the society of a few friends, to seek his final rest in the floods of the Rhine. Saved by sailors, he recovered full possession of his faculties only for a few days, in which he wrote one variation on the theme of that strange night. During the two last years of his life he was confined in a private hospital near Bonn. There a few friends such as Joachim and young Brahms were admitted to see the beloved master, so sadly afflicted both physically and mentally. His darkened mind became clear only at rare intervals, when he would sit at the piano, once more seeking a musical expression for the strange world of thoughts within him. But soon all visits from friends were forbidden, and the wife of the great composer saw him only to close his eyes and bid him a last farewell. He died July 2, 1856, only forty-six years old. In Bonn, where he is buried, a beautiful monument by Donndorf is erected in his memory.

In appearance Schumann was rather tall and stately, calm and slow in his movements, the face, with deep, melancholy eyes and rich dark hair, being quite expressive, but seldom betraying the emotions of his soul, the wealth and depth of his imagination or the exquisite wit and humor, so often encountered in his works. Certain odd peculiarities of his personal and artistic character, which became more apparent when his health began to fail, can not impair the general impression of his true nature as manifested in the achievements of his happier days. If we remember how late Schumann entered upon a musical career, how late he enjoyed a thorough theoretical instruction, how much he has also done in the field of literature, how early his health began to be impaired, and at what an early age he was called away, we are astonished at the mass of his works, so many of them of the widest scope and importance, which place his name among the noblest and greatest masters.

In a certain sense Schumann's works may be regarded as a musical commentary on his life. This is particularly true of his earlier pianoforte compositions. Being neither the result of theoretical studies nor the imitation of favorite masters, they were of a surprising originality, melodically, rhythmically and harmonically, and revealed a new spirit in a new form in spite of all relationship to Schubert's small character pieces, Beethoven's last sonatas or Bach's polyphonic style. They were not only new, but bold and full of a higher significance. Schumann was never at a loss for ideas, but, being familiar with every style of pianoforte playing from Bach's to Moscheles' and Chopin's, and aiming at the career of a virtuoso, he wrote from the beginning in a very difficult style, rich in wonderful new effects and combinations. Sometimes we find a "pearl of great price" hidden beneath a wealth of ornament of unusual beauty, novelty and poetic significance. So peculiar indeed is the style of these pianoforte works, that special technical study is required in order to do them justice.

Like all our great composers, Schumann frequently makes use of variations, of course not in Henri Herz's manner, but in Beethoven's, creating out of one original idea a series of characteristic pieces, strongly contrasted in form and spirit. In Heidelberg, long before his studies with Dorn, he wrote those on A-b-e-gg, dedicated to a countess of this name, who, however, was in reality nothing but a modest, untitled young lady, with whom he had become acquainted at a ball. The Impromptu (Op. 5), on a theme of Clara Wieck, belongs to this class also. But of much greater importance are the two works, in which he best showed the peculiar character of his pianoforte virtuosity, the Symphonic Studies (Op. 13) and the Andante with variations for two pianofortes (Op. 46). The extremely interesting treatment in these works is very free, but always ingenious, and the technical and intellectual difficulties are very great.

Rarely one meets with a long cantilena, in Schumann's earlier works, the material generally having a short, somewhat fragmentary character, often consisting of but a few notes, though treated with a wealth of rhythmical or harmonical combinations. There is also a great variety of moods, and the contrasts are not only very distinct, but often unexpected and sudden. As a dreamer full of sweetest or saddest thoughts he is not less touching than as a musical knight of the most chivalrous spirit or as a humorist such as Beethoven. Nowhere can one find a finer exhibition of that peculiar German humor which "laughs through tears," than in Schumann's charming "Humoreske" (Op. 20). The arrangements of the Paganini caprices and studies have a more pedagogic purpose, while the great Toccata (Op. 7) and the Allegro (Op. 8) may be called Schumann's noblest contributions to the literature of bravoura-pieces. More characteristic of his individuality, however, are those works with which his name as a musical poet will always remain especially connected—"Papillons," "Carnival," "DavidsbÜndlertÄnze," "PhantasiestÜcke," "Scenes from Childhood," "Kreisleriana" and "Noveletten." Distinct pictures of his poetical imagination form their object, yet it is well to remember the composer's emphatic declaration, that the music originated in his mind and was written down before he even thought of the title, which he afterward gave the composition. Yet so wonderfully appropriate are many of these titles, that it is often impossible not to perceive their meaning in the music. What an inexhaustible wealth of musical ideas is hidden in all these productions, how many new rhythmical combinations, how many "sweetest discords"! Who has ever understood how to show so much depth of feeling and originality of thought, such a rich imagination within such narrow limits as has Schumann, particularly in the "Papillons" and "Carnival"! One feels that much of his own life's experience, much of the romance of his heart is embodied in this music. Thus the "DavidsbÜndlertÄnze" are by no means "dances," but the Davidites' knightly fights against the Philistines, nor are the "Kreisleriana" a portrayal of the eccentric Capellmeister in E. T. A. Hoffmann's tale, but the expression of Schumann's own enthusiastic, romantic, many-sided nature and of the ever-varying moods of his soul. In the Novelettes he tells us, in a most pleasing and spirited language, the story of his struggle for Clara's heart. The PhantasiestÜcke contain veritable gems among modern pianoforte music, such as "Evenings," "Why," "Traumeswirren" and "Aufschwung." The utmost delicacy of sentiment and fineness of musical expression are found in the "Scenes from Childhood," which are not meant as compositions for children, but as musical genre pictures from the children's life. Other fine pieces such as "Arabeske," "BlumenstÜck," "NachtstÜcke," may be only mentioned, though each deserves a detailed analysis.

In three Sonatas Schumann has attempted to force the wealth of his imagination into an old classic form, but as he had not then perfected himself in the latter, and besides wrote the single movements at wide intervals, he could hardly be expected to make a complete success. The material is almost crowded, the development often lacks coherence, the different portions are not of equal value; and yet, considering these productions as free music, we recognize again the composer's vast powers of invention and combination, his passionate energy, delicacy of sentiment and brilliancy of style. Of these sonatas, the one in G minor is generally praised as the best. On a higher plane we place the great fantasia in C, Op. 17, dedicated to Liszt. Here Schumann's imagination was free from strict formal fetters; the four movements keep one's interest evenly and keenly alive, and, apparently written in hours of inspiration, they go directly from heart to heart. The earnest, noble character and lofty spirit of this work remind us indeed of Beethoven, to whose monument Schumann had first intended to contribute it as an "obolus." Its difficulties are such, that only eminent players are able to master them and make the meaning of the music clear.

Among Schumann's later pianoforte compositions the following are best known: the lively, fanciful "Faschingsschwank," composed in Vienna during the carnival; three romances, of which the one in F-sharp is particularly famous; some fugues and other pieces in strict contrapuntal style; the "Scenes from the Woods" (among which is the odd "Bird as Prophet"); "Bunte BlÄtter"; "PhantasiestÜcke"; "20 Album Leaves" (including the popular cradle song); and "GesÄnge der FrÜhe"; "Three little Sonatas," dedicated to his daughters, and the well known "Album for the Young," with its forty-three charming pieces, are certainly among the most valuable works ever written for children.

Of the compositions for four hands none deserves more sympathy than the charming "Pictures from the Orient," inspired by RÜckert's "Makamen des Hariri," certainly in no way inferior to the famous "Evening Song" from the twelve pieces Op. 85, while the elaborate "Ball Scenes" and the easier "Children's Ball" were written at a later period.

The pianoforte concerto in A minor ranks directly after Beethoven's. It has a truly symphonic character, especially in the first and last movements, the orchestra accompaniment being not less important than the brilliant solo part, while the middle movement, Intermezzo, seems even like a lovely solo for the violoncello with piano accompaniment. Two more concert pieces for pianoforte with orchestra are an Allegro appassionato (Op. 92) and a Concert Allegro with Introduction (Op. 134), the latter dedicated to Joh. Brahms.

When, in 1840, Schumann reached the sunshine of domestic happiness, he was compelled to express his joy in singing, not only in vocal compositions, but also in his instrumental pieces, which now began to assume a more sustained melodic breadth. He played no instrument besides the pianoforte, and for this reason has often been accused of not fully understanding the true nature of string or wood instruments. We admit that occasionally a desired effect is not well produced, but a thousand instances prove that as a general statement such an accusation is entirely false. There are portions where the composer shows a lack of transparency, but a great many more are very brilliant and most finely balanced. His use of the strings is certainly effective enough in his chamber works, though the finest results are obtained in their combination with the pianoforte.

The three string quartets dedicated to Mendelssohn show the latter's great influence on Schumann's progress in larger forms. Later the composer changed many details, and now we class them among the most valuable productions of the kind since Beethoven's death, the beauty of the ideas and their fascinating treatment increasing our admiration with each hearing. Schumann likes to place the Scherzo before the slow movement and to substitute for the Trio an Intermezzo in two-four time. Greater than these quartets, however, are the famous quintet and quartet in E-flat for pianoforte and strings. The former especially has been called the greatest chamber work since Beethoven, and it has not yet been thrust from this position of honor. How one would have liked to witness the first performance of this splendid work with Clara Schumann, to whom it is dedicated, at the piano! Two very short themes form the basis of the first movement, which has a bright, energetic character and received an extremely rich harmonic treatment with a brilliant ornamental figure work. Then follows a funeral march of a peculiar character, having a choral-like episode in the major key, and a passionate agitato in F minor. The highly spirited Scherzo has again two trios, one sweet and melodious, and the other a labyrinth of mysterious sounds and thoughts. The same harmonic wealth and energetic spirit we find again in the Finale, in which through a combination of the principal theme with the first one in the opening moment, a grand climax is reached, closing a work which, with all its romantic spirit and modern rhythm and harmony, retains the character of a perfectly classic masterpiece. The pianoforte quartet deserves as much praise, one of its most conspicuous features being the close relation which Schumann bears to Bach, while retaining his own strikingly modern poetical spirit.

The trios for piano, violin and violoncello in D minor and F are of a high order too, full of ingenious ideas, one being especially interesting by its passionate, poetic spirit, the other through a greater perfection in form; but the originality and artistic perfection which characterize them do not appear in the G minor trio [Op. 110]. Of a lighter character, yet delightful on every page, are the "PhantasiestÜcke" for violin, 'cello and piano, and the "MÄrchenerzÄhlungen" for piano, clarinet and viola.

The two passionate, melancholy Violin Sonatas of his later years are, in spite of their great musical worth, perhaps more gratifying for players than for a concert audience, while many an enjoyable page may be found among the different compositions for clarinet, horn, viola, or violoncello and pianoforte.

Schumann's organ compositions are few in number, the principal ones being the six fugues on B-A-C-H, which differ considerably in value and character.

Besides the pianoforte concerto already mentioned, Schumann has composed one for violoncello in A minor, demanding a player of great musical intelligence: one for four horns, a revival of the old concerto grosso, and a fantasia for violin with orchestral accompaniment dedicated to Joachim, who owns also the manuscript of a whole violin concerto. All these works belong to Schumann's last period, showing traces of exhaustion, but still his noble, always purely artistic purposes.

In order to picture Schumann's orchestral works with any degree of justice, we should be gifted with his own wonderful powers of description, thus producing upon our readers an impression similar to that produced by the musical work upon a sympathetic listener. What a splendid protest are they against the faint-hearted belief, that with Beethoven's "Ninth" the symphony as such had not only reached its supreme development, but died. Surely it required a genius, a great personality, a thorough master of the symphonic art to write in this field something worthy of the great predecessors, and yet original. But such a personality was Schumann, and his symphonies will forever belong to the golden treasure of instrumental music. Far from being imitations in any respect, they hold an independent position of their own and will live as long as their composer's name. Already the first one in B-flat appears at once as a masterpiece of lasting value. In this he might be called a younger brother of Beethoven, a lad with youthful thoughts and hopes and longings, with rosy cheeks and brilliant eyes, full of sweetest tenderness and mirth, but glowing with youth, manliness and vigor. His kinship with Schubert is often apparent too, although he always shows his own peculiar face. In regard to the form, he introduces many new features.

This is particularly noticeable in his treatment of the second theme in the first and last movements, in the use of two trios in the Scherzo, and in the melodious Larghetto, which greatly resembles his PhantasiestÜcke for piano. Throughout, this music is extremely inspiriting; in spite of an occasional lack of clearness in the instrumentation it is powerful and brilliant or of exquisite delicacy, and its spirit full of love, happiness and spring.

The second symphony in D minor, later revised and published as No. 4, is decidedly more passionate and concentrated, some of the four movements being closely connected, besides having partly a common thematic material. New also is the slow impressive introduction of the finale and the free, fantasia-like treatment of the second part of the opening movement. In the place of a broad adagio a lovely romance precedes the Scherzo, which retains its usual shape, and in all four movements the principal key of D is dominant.

Schumann's relationship to Beethoven seems however nowhere more conspicuous than in the great symphony in C. It has an eminently virile, strong and dithyrambic character. The solemn introduction of the first movement, the conciseness of its first part, the wide scope of the working-out portion, even the character of the themes, remind us at once of Beethoven's spirit. An extensive, fanciful scherzo with two different trios in two-four time precedes the beautiful Adagio, which, with its intense feeling, sweet sadness and almost transcendental loftiness, comes perhaps nearer to Beethoven than anything else in modern symphonic literature. An exultant finale crowns this truly monumental work. And let us not forget that it was written in a gloomy period of mental and physical distress. The deep study of Bach at that time left many traces in the masterly contrapuntal work.

A new world is revealed in the so-called Rhenish Symphony in E-flat. There Schumann begins at once with the Allegro, the first subject of the movement bearing a vigorous character with effective syncopations and clad in all the splendor of the full orchestra, the second being a charming melody in G minor. Omitting the usual repetition of the first part, he extends the working-out portion by new and ingenious combinations of the two subjects. Here again we are often reminded of Beethoven. After the brilliant Coda a lovely intermezzo follows with a sweet, almost popular melody for the 'celli, alternating with a lively staccato figure of the string and wood instruments and a romantic song for two horns, the whole suggesting perhaps a pleasant trip on the Rhine at sunset. And is there anything more delicate and touching in any modern symphony than the Andante in A-flat, where every instrument seems to have a soul and to sing directly into our inmost heart, now plaintive and sad, now consoling with an indescribable delicacy of feeling. Still the composer does not hasten to the finale, but puts in another slow movement in E-flat minor in the character of a solemn ceremony (suggested by the installation of the archbishop in Cologne), highly effective by its spirit, and vastly interesting by its masterly counterpoint and rich instrumentation. It touches us like liberty regained from such mysteries when the finale opens with its brilliant, vigorous theme, and the whole glorious movement fills our hearts with its own enthusiastic spirit. Yet this great work was written when Schumann's powers began to decay, and when he was occupied with many less successful efforts in other musical fields.

The fifth symphonic work, written directly after the first symphony, but revised and published later under the title "Overture, Scherzo and Finale," has also become a favorite because of its charming, inspiriting character, especially prominent in the scherzo, which is an excellent revival of the old gigue form.

KAPELLMEISTER KREISLER.

An imaginary and fantastic character introduced in various novels and sketches by E. T. A. Hoffman, impersonating a true musician devoted to the highest ideals in conflict with the banale and frivolous world and ending in insanity. This sketch is by Hoffman himself, showing Kreisler amusing himself blowing soap-bubbles, seeming to say: "What is the world after all, but a soap-bubble?"

The figure of Kreisler and his various moods depicted in Hoffman's novels induced Schumann to write his Op. 16 Kreisleriana, dedicated to F. Chopin.

A prototype of Schumann's own life and sad end.