The Story of Robert Schumann

Sample passages:
Clara Wieck had grown into a woman. Schumann, whose warm heart had been set to beating by the languishing eyes of dark-haired Italians, by intellectual English girls, and the pretty maidens of the Rhine, found in her at last his truest ideal. Years before she had been perfection. He wrote her, in 1832: “I think of you not as a brother of a sister, or as a friend of his friend, but perhaps somewhat as a pilgrim thinks of the far-off altar-picture.” And after asking her how apples tasted in Frankfurt, he closed with the words: “My paper comes to an end. Everything comes to an end except friendship.”…

The lunatic asylum, more than once and more than twice, loomed up as a part of the landscape. It was his doom. The nervous disorders, which his passion for strong cigars undoubtedly aggravated, began to grow worse. He imagined that he heard persistent tones ringing in his ears. Sometimes he heard whole pieces. Mendelssohn and Schubert, who had been, with Bach, his guiding lights, seemed to come to him and hold communion with him.

About the author:
Nathan H. Dole (1852-1935) was an American author, editor, and translator. Other works include “Young Folks’ History of Russia,” “The Greek Poets,” and “The Life of Count Tolstoi.”