which
Beethoven buried his mighty heart," and it must be confessed that Clara
Wieck, even as a young girl, did more than any other pianist to develop
a love of and appreciation for the music of the Titan of composers.

Long before Schumann distinctly contemplated the image of Clara as
the beloved one, the half of his soul, he had divined her genius, and
expressed his opinion of her in no stinted terms of praise. When she was
as yet only thirteen, he had written of her in his journal: "As I
know people who, having but just heard Clara, yet rejoice in their
anticipation of their next occasion of hearing her, I ask, What sustains
this continual interest in her? Is it the 'wonder child' herself, at
whose stretches of tenths people shake their heads while they are amazed
at them, or the most difficult difficulties which she sportively flings
toward the public like flower garlands? Is it the special pride of
the city with which a people regards its own natives? Is it that she
presents to us the most interesting productions of recent art in as
short a time as possible? Is it that the masses understand that art
should not depend on the caprices of a few enthusiasts, who would direct
us back to a century over whose corpse the wheels of time are hastening?
I know not; I only feel that here we are subdued by genius, which men
still hold in respect. In short, we here divine the presence of a power
of which much is spoken, while few indeed possess it.... Early she
drew the veil of Isis aside. Serenely the child looks up; older eyes,
perhaps, would have been blinded by that radiant light.... To Clara
we dare no longer apply the measuring scale of age, but only that of
fulfillment.... Clara Wieck is the first German artist.... Pearls do not
float on the surface; they must be sought for in the deep, often with
danger. But Clara is an intrepid diver."

The child whose genius he admired ripened into a lovely young woman, and
Schumann became conscious that there had been growing in his heart for
years a deep, ardent love. He had fancied himself in love more
than once, but now he felt that he could make no mistake as to the
genuineness of his feelings. In 1836 he confessed his feelings to the
object of his affections, and discovered that he not only loved but
was loved, for two such gifted and sympathetic natures could hardly be
thrown together for years without the growth of a mutual tenderness.
The marriage project was not favored by P