tiful city of
Heidelberg, and surrounded by a few musical friends, who were kindred
spirits. With a good piano in his room, the "life of flowers," as
he called it, began. Almost daily they made delightful trips in a
one-horse carriage into the suburbs. For longer trips they went to
Baden-Baden, Wurms, Spires and Mannheim. Whenever Robert went with
his friends he always carried a small "dumb piano" on which he
industriously practised finger exercises, meanwhile joining in the
conversation. During the following August and September, Robert and
two or three chosen companions made a delightful journey through
Italy, the young man preparing himself by studying Latin, in which he
became so fluent that he could translate poems from one language to
the other.

The next winter Robert devoted himself to music more than
ever--"played the piano much," as he says. His skill as a pianist
gradually became known in Heidelberg and he frequently played in
private houses. But he was not content with the regular study of
the piano. He wanted to get ahead faster and invented some sort of a
device to render his fourth finger more firm and supple. It did not
have the desired effect however, but was the means in time of injuring
his hands so that he never could attain the piano virtuosity he
dreamed of.

Before starting on the trip to Italy just mentioned, he felt that a
decision must be reached about his music. It had become as the breath
of life to him. He wrote his mother and laid bare his heart to her.
"My whole life has been a twenty years struggle between poetry and
prose, or let us say--between music and law. If I follow my own bent,
it points, as I believe correctly, to music. Write yourself to Wieck
at Leipsic and ask him frankly what he thinks of me and my plan. Beg
him to answer at once and decisively." The letter was duly written to
Wieck, who decided in favor of Robert and his plans.

Robert on hearing his decision was wild with joy. He wrote an
exuberant letter to Wieck promising to be most submissive as a piano
pupil and saying "whole pailfuls of very very cold theory can do me no
harm and I will work at it without a murmur. I give myself up wholly
to you."

With a heart full of hope, young Schumann returned to Leipsic, which
he had gladly left more than a year before. It was during this early
resumption of piano lessons with Wieck that he began the treatment
which he thought would advance his technic in such a marvelously