Theodor Kirchner (d. 1903), also a Saxon, born in 1824, was one of the young men in whom Schumann took a lively interest. From 1838 he studied at Leipsic, from 1843 was organist at Winterthur, from 1862 taught in the Zurich conservatory, in 1873-5 was head of the Würzburg conservatory, and from 1875 lived successively at Leipsic, Dresden and Hamburg. He was chiefly a writer for the piano, excelling in brief, imaginative works after Schumann's best pattern, besides some chamber-music and songs.
Woldemar Bargiel (d. 1897), born at Berlin in 1828, had less personal contact with Schumann than the foregoing, but belonged to his group. From about 1850 he taught at Berlin, then in the Cologne conservatory, from 1865 was director of the Music-School at Rotterdam, and from 1874 returned to Berlin, first in the Hochschule and from 1882 as head of the School for Advanced Composition. His powerful works include a symphony, 3 overtures, notable chamber, piano and vocal pieces.
Still other names in the Schumann succession are Julius Otto Grimm (d. 1903), who, after teaching at Göttingen, was from 1860 head of the Cäcilienverein at Munster, writing a symphony, 2 fine string-suites in canon-form, piano-pieces and songs; Albert Dietrich, from 1855 conductor at Bonn and from 1861 court-choirmaster at Oldenburg, writing the opera Robin Hood (1879), music to Imogen (1891), a striking symphony, several cantatas, chamber and piano music, and songs; and the younger Brahms (d. 1897) and Jensen (d. 1879), who are elsewhere discussed (see secs. 214, 222).
192. His Work as Critic.—Schumann's mental power was nowhere better shown than in his estimates of music and musicians. His spirit was genial and kind, eager to acknowledge merit and to bestow praise. His knowledge and taste had been assiduously developed by study and reflection, so that he was broadly responsive. He made it his business to know the works of many periods and schools. Severe habits of self-discipline gave him fine powers of analysis and a keen sense of perspective. He was ready to weigh the opinions of other critics, if intelligent, but his conclusions were absolutely his own, and, once made, were tenaciously held. As we now look back to them, we marvel that as a rule they were so just and right. He was, of course, eager to welcome every touch of romantic fervor, but was catholic enough to recognize worthy effort in any style. His chief limitation lay in a certain aversion to the operatic styles of his day, which led him not only to condemn the meretricious and vulgar, but to regard with doubt much that might well have roused his interest.
Fully as remarkable as his wisdom in framing critical judgments was his felicity in putting them into words. He knew
