oever God hath joined together, let no man
put asunder," seems rather a needless injunction, since we know that
man's efforts in the line of separation have ever but one result:
opposition fans the flame.

Just as Elizabeth Barrett's father forcibly opposed the mating of his
daughter, so did Frederick Wieck oppose the love of his daughter Clara
for Robert Schumann.

And one can not blame the man so very much--he knew the young man and he
knew the girl; and deducting fifty per cent for paternal pride, he saw
that the girl was much the stronger character of the two. Clara had
already a recognized reputation as a performer; her playing had made her
father rich, and he was sure that greater things were to come. Beside
that, she was only seventeen years old--a mere child.

Robert was twenty-six, with most of his future before him--he was
advised to win a name and place for himself before aspiring to the hand
of a great artist: and so he was bowed out.

He took the matter into the courts, and the decision was that, as she
was now eighteen years old, she had the right to wed, if she were so
minded.

And so they were married; but Frederick Wieck was not present at the
ceremony to give the bride away.

* * * * *

Schumann was essentially feminine in many ways, as the best men always
are. In spite of his mental independence, he did his best work when
shielded in the shadow of a stronger personality. Without Clara, Robert
would probably be unknown to us. She gave him the courage and the
confidence that he lacked; and she it was who interpreted his work to
the world.

Heine characterized Meyerbeer's "Les Huguenots" as "like a Gothic
cathedral whose heaven-soaring spire and colossal cupolas seem to have
been planted there by the sure hand of a giant; whereas the innumerable
features, the rosettes and arabesques that are spread over it everywhere
like a lacework of stone, witness to the indefatigable patience of a
dwarf."

Very different is the work of Robert Schumann, who, like his master
Schubert, knew little of the architectonics of the Art Divine. But
Schubert seems to have been the first to give us the "lyric cry"--the
prayer of a heart bowed down, or the ecstasy of a soul enrapt.

Schumann built on Schubert. Music was to Schumann the expression of an
emotion. He saw in pictures, then he told in tones, what his inward eye
beheld. He even went so far as to give the names of persons, the