cting to Schumann's habits, and saying that, if
he had no money at all, he might turn out well; for Schumann, while
never rich, never knew poverty. But their friendship continued cordial
and intimate, and Wieck went into partnership with him in the _Neue
Zeitschrift fuer Musik_; he was a member of the famous Davids-buendler,
that mystical brotherhood of art, wherein Clara is alluded to as
"Chiara," perhaps also as "Zilia." None the less, or perhaps all the
more, Wieck objected to seeing his famous and all-conquering child
marry herself away to the dreamer and eccentric.

Wieck's own domestic affairs had not flowed too smoothly; he had
married the daughter of Cantor Tromlitz, who was the mother of Clara
and four other children, but the marriage, though begun in love, was
unhappy, and after six years was ended in divorce. Clara remained with
her father, while her mother married a music-teacher named Bargiel, and
bore him a son, Waldemar, well known as a composer and a good friend
and disciple of Robert Schumann. Wieck had married again, in 1828,
Clementine Fechner, by whom he had a daughter, Marie, who also attained
some prominence as pianist and teacher.

On February 13, 1836, we have seen Schumann write his love to Clara.
The number of the day, the stormy night, and the remembrance of his
mother's death were all appropriate omens. Wieck stormed about Clara's
head with rebuke and accusations, and threatened like another Capulet,
till he scared the seventeen-year-old girl into giving him Schumann's
letters. Then he threatened to shoot Schumann if she did not promise
never to speak to him again. She made the promise, and the manner in
which she did not keep it adds the necessary human touch to this most
beautiful of true love stories. Schumann was never underhanded by
choice, or at all, except a little on occasion in this love affair; so
now he called at once upon his old teacher, friend and colleague.

The interview must have been brief and stormy, for, on the 1st of
March, 1836, Schumann writes to August Kahlert, a stranger but a fellow
musical journalist, at Breslau, where Clara had gone:

"I am not going to give you anything musical to spell out today, and,
without beating about the bush, will come to the point at once. I have
a particular favour to ask you. It is this: Will you not devote a few
moments of your life to acting as messenger between two parted souls?
At any rate, do not betray them. Give me your word t