In these years he had composed feverishly, some of the results being such great and famous productions as the Rhenish symphony, the cantata, "the Pilgrimage of the Rose," several overtures, ballads for soli, chorus and orchestra, a mass, a requiem, several chamber works, songs, melodramas and pianoforte pieces. He also planned writing another opera on Schiller's "Bride of Messina" or Gœthe's "Hermann and Dorothea," or a great popular oratorio on "Luther," but was forced to abandon the scheme. He was happiest amongst his children and was as talkative with them as reticent with others. Yet his old interest in new talents remained unabated and the way in which he encouraged young musicians, such as Reinecke, Meinardus, Dietrich, Joachim and especially Brahms, shows him in a most amiable light. But all this time that mysterious influence which had so early affected his mind, was daily gaining in strength. He was troubled so much by nervousness, a feeling of permanent anxiety, and even by hallucinations, that he became desirous of a medical treatment in a hospital. One night he rushed from his bed to write down a theme just sent to him by the spirits of Schubert and Mendelssohn. Nor was he free from superstitions, for instance passionately taking part in the practice of table moving. On February 22, 1854, soon after dinner, without any warning he left his house and the society of a few friends, to seek his final rest in the floods of the Rhine. Saved by sailors, he recovered full possession of his faculties only for a few days, in which he wrote one variation on the theme of that strange night. During the two last years of his life he was confined in a private hospital near Bonn. There a few friends such as Joachim and young Brahms were admitted to see the beloved master, so sadly afflicted both physically and mentally. His darkened mind became clear only at rare intervals, when he would sit at the piano, once more seeking a musical expression for the strange world of thoughts within him. But soon all visits from friends were forbidden, and the wife of the great composer saw him only to close his eyes and bid him a last farewell. He died July 2, 1856, only forty-six years old. In Bonn, where he is buried, a beautiful monument by Donndorf is erected in his memory.
In appearance Schumann was rather tall and stately, calm and slow in his movements, the face, with deep, melancholy eyes and rich dark hair, being quite expressive, but seldom betraying the emotions of his soul, the wealth and depth of his imagination or the exquisite wit and humor, so often encountered in his works. Certain odd peculiarities of his personal and artistic character, which became more apparent when his health began to fail, can not impair the general impression of his true nature as manifested in the achievements of his happier days. If we remember how late Schumann entered upon a musical career, how late he enjoyed a thorough theoretical instruction, how much he has also done in the field of literature, how early his health began to be impaired, and at what an early age he was called away, we are astonished at the mass of his works, so many of them of the widest scope and importance, which place his name among the noblest and greatest masters.
Fac-simile autograph letter from Schumann to a lady, thanking her for her soulful singing in one of his concerts.
Fac-simile of portion of letter from Clara Schumann to Karl Klauser, thanking him for introducing her husband's music in Farmington, Conn., where it was performed before it became known in New York. The musicians of that period were pleased to call Farmington "Schumannville." Hence her greetings to that place, unknown to the Gazetteer of the U. S.
Fac-simile musical manuscript of the opening of Schumann's Quintette Op. 44. The original is in the possession of J. Brahms.