The close of 1853, brought two joyful events to Schumann.  In October he met Johann Brahms, whom he had introduced to the world through his Journal, as the “Messiah of Art.”  In November he and his wife took a trip through Holland, which was a triumphal procession.  He found his music almost as well known in Holland as at home.  In Rotterdam and Utrecht his third symphony was performed; in The Hague the second was given, also “The Pilgrimage of the Rose.”  Clara also played at many concerts.

Just before Christmas the artist pair returned to Duesseldorf.

The hallucinations which had before obsessed him now returned with alarming force.  He could no longer sleep—­he seemed to be lost in mental darkness.

One day in February 1854, his physician made a noon call upon him.  They sat chatting when suddenly Schumann left the room without a word.  The doctor and his friends supposed he would return.  His wife went in search of him.  It seems he had left the house in dressing-gown, gone to the Rhine bridge and thrown himself into the river.  Some sailors rescued him.

He now received constant care, and it was found best to place him in a private hospital near Bonn.  Here he remained till the end of July, 1856, when the end came.

In his death the world of music lost one of the most highly gifted spirits.  His life was important and instructive for its moral and intellectual grandeur, its struggles for the noblest, loftiest subjects as well as for its truly great results.

XII

FREDERIC CHOPIN

What would the piano playing world do without the music of Frederic Chopin?  We can hardly think of the piano without thinking of Chopin, since he wrote almost exclusively for the universal instrument.  His music touches the heart always rather than the head, the emotional message far outweighs the intellectual meaning.  It is vital music—­love music, winning the heart by its tenderness, voicing the highest sentiments by its refinement, its purity, its perfection of detail and finish.

And the man who could compose with such refinement, with such appealing eloquence, must have possessed those qualities which shine out in his music.  He must have been gentle, chivalrous, high-thoughted.  We cannot avoid expressing ourselves in our work—­in whatever we do.

The father of this beloved composer was a Frenchman, born in Nancy, Lorraine, in 1770, the same year Beethoven saw the light in Bonn.  He was carefully brought up, well-bred and well-educated.  When a friend of his in Warsaw, Poland, in the tobacco and snuff trade, then in high repute with the nobility, needed help with his book-keeping, he sent for the seventeen-year-old lad.  Thus it happened that Nicholas Chopin came to Warsaw in 1787.  It was a time of unrest, when the nation was struggling for liberty and independence.  The young man applied himself to master the language,