A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Schubert, Franz (composer)

SCHUBERT,^[1] FRANZ PETER, the one great composer native to Vienna, was born Jan. 31, 1797, in the district called Lichtenthal, at the house which is now^[2] numbered 54 of the Nussdorfer Strasse, on the right, going out from Vienna. There is now a gray marble tablet over the door, with the words 'Franz Schuberts Geburtshaus' in the centre; on the left side a lyre crowned with a star, and on the right a chaplet of leaves containing the words, '31 Jänner 1797.' He came of a country stock, originally belonging to Zukmantel in Austrian Silesia. His father, Franz, the son of a peasant at Neudorf in Moravia, was born about 1764, studied in Vienna, and in 1784 became assistant to his brother, who kept a school in the Leopoldstadt. His ability and integrity raised him in 1786 to be parish schoolmaster in the parish of the 'Twelve holy helpers' in the Lichtenthal, a post which he kept till 1817 or 18, when he was appointed to the parish school in the adjoining district of the Rossau, and there he remained till his death, July 9, 1830. He married early, while still helping his brother, probably in 1783, Elisabeth Vitz, or Fitz, a Silesian, who was in service in Vienna, and was, like Beethoven's mother, a cook. Their first child, Ignaz, was born in 1784. Then came a long gap, possibly filled by children who died in infancy—of which they lost nine in all; then, Oct. 19, 1794, another boy, Ferdinand; then in 96, Karl, then Franz, and lastly, a daughter, Theresia, Sept. 17, 1801, who died Aug. 7, 1878. The hard-worked mother of these 14 children lived till 1812. Soon after her death her husband was married again, to Anna Klayenbök, a Viennese, and had a second family of 5 children, of whom 3 grew up, viz. Josefa (+ 1861), Andreas, an accountant in one of the public offices, and Anton, a Benedictine priest, 'Father ^[3]Hermann'—the last two still living (1881).

Ignaz and Ferdinand followed their father's calling, and inherited with it the integrity, frugality, and modesty, which had gained him such respect. Of the former we do not hear much; the one letter by him that is preserved (Oct. 13, 1818), shows him very free-thinking, very tired of schoolmastering, very much attached to his home and his brother.^[4] He remained at the Rossau school till his death in 1844. Ferdinand, on the other hand, rose to be director of the chief normal school of St. Anna in Vienna, and played a considerable part in the life of his celebrated brother, by whom he was fondly loved, to whom he was deeply attached, and whose eyes it was given to him to close in death.

Little Franz was no doubt well grounded by his father, and to that early training probably owed the methodical habit which stuck to him more or less closely through life, of dating his pieces, a practice which makes the investigation of them doubly interesting.^[5] As schoolmasters the father and his two eldest sons were all more or less musical. Ignaz and Ferdinand had learned the violin with other rudiments from the father, and Franz was also taught it by him in his turn, and the 'clavier' (i.e. probably the pianoforte for Beethoven's op. 31 was published before Schubert had passed his 6th year) by Ignaz, who was twelve years his senior. But his high vocation quickly revealed itself; he soon outstripped these simple teachers, and was put under Michael Holzer, the choirmaster of the parish, for both violin and piano, as well as for singing, the organ, and thorough bass. On this good man, who long outlived him, he made a deep impression. 'When I wished to teach him anything fresh,' he would say, 'he always knew it already. I have often listened to him in astonishment.'^[6] Holzer would give him subjects to extemporise upon, and then his joy would know no bounds, and he would cry 'the lad has got harmony at his fingers' ends.'^[7] Such astonishment was natural enough, but it would have been far better if he had taught him counterpoint. Ignaz too—and an elder brother is not always a lenient judge of his junior—bears similar testimony. 'I was much astonished,' says he, 'when after a few months he told me that he had no more need of any help from me, but would go on by himself; and indeed I soon had to acknowledge that he had far surpassed me, beyond hope of competition.'

Before he became eleven he was first soprano in the Lichtenthal choir, noted for the beauty of his voice and the appropriateness of his expression. He played the violin solos when they occurred in the service, and at home composed little songs, and pieces for strings or for PF. For a child so gifted, of people in the position of the Schuberts, the next step was naturally the Imperial Convict, or school^[8] for educating the choristers for the Court-chapel; and to the Convict accordingly Franz was sent in Oct. 1808, when 11 years and 8 months old. He went up with a batch of other boys, who, while waiting, made themselves merry over his gray suit, calling him a miller, and otherwise cracking jokes. But the laugh soon ceased when the 'miller' came under the examiners, the Courtcapellmeisters Salieri and Eybler, and Korner the singing-master. He sang the trial-pieces in such a style that he was at once received, and henceforth the gray frock was exchanged for the gold-laced uniform of the imperial choristers. The music in the Convict had been a good deal dropt in consequence of the war, but after the signing of the treaty of peace, Oct. 14, 1809, it regained its old footing, and then Franz soon took his right place in the music-school. There was an orchestra formed from the boys, which practised daily symphonies and overtures of Haydn, Mozart, Krommer, Kozeluch, Méhul, Cherubini, etc., and occasionally Beethoven. Here his home practice put him on a level with older boys than himself. The leader of the band, behind whom he sat, several years his senior, turned round the first day to see who it was that was playing so cleverly, and found it to be 'a small boy in spectacles named Franz Schubert.'^[9] The big fellow's name was Spaun, and he soon became intimate with his little neighbour. Franz was extremely sensitive, and one day admitted to his friend, very confused and blushing deeply, that he had already composed much; that indeed he could not help it, and should do it every day if he could afford to get music-paper. Spaun saw the state of matters, and took care that music-paper should be forthcoming; for which and other kindnesses his name will be long remembered. Franz in time became first violin, and when Ruzicka, the regular conductor, was absent, he took his place. The orchestral music must have been a great delight to him, but we only hear that he preferred Kozeluch to Krommer, and that his particular favourites were some adagios of Haydn's, Mozart's G- minor Symphony, in which he said 'you could hear the angels singing,' and the overtures to Figaro and the Zauberflöte. It is also evident from his earliest symphonies that the overture to Prometheus had made its mark on his mind. On Sundays and holidays he went home, and then the great delight of the family was to play quartets, his own or those of other writers, in which the father took the cello, Ferdinand and Ignaz the first and second violins, and Franz the viola, as Mozart did before him, and Mendelssohn after him. The father would now and then make a mistake; on the first occasion Franz took no notice, but if it recurred he would say with a smile, in a timid way, 'Herr Vater, something must be wrong there.'

From a very early date Beethoven was an object of his deepest reverence. Shortly before he entered the School the boys' orchestra had been taken to Schönbrunn for a performance in Beethoven's presence, and Franz was never tired of hearing the details of the story from those who were there. A few months later, after some of his boyish songs to Klopstock's words had been sung, he asked a friend if it was possible that he himself ever would do anything; and on the friend replying that he could already do a great deal, answered, 'Perhaps: I sometimes have dreams of that sort; but who can do anything after Beethoven?'^[10] With this feeling it is doubly strange that his juvenile works should show so few traces of Beethoven's direct influence.

The instruction in the Convict was by no means only musical. There was a Curator, a Director (Rev. Innocenz Lang), a Sub-director, an Inspector, a staff of preachers and catechists; and there were teachers of mathematics, history and geography, poetry, writing, drawing, French, and Italian.^[11] In fact it was a school, apart from its music department. Franz of course took his part in all this instruction, and for the first year is said to have acquitted himself with credit, but his reputation in the school fell off as it increased in the musical department. The extraordinary thirst for composition, which is so remarkable throughout his life, began to assert itself at this time, and appears to have been limited only by his power of obtaining paper; and it not unnaturally interfered with his general lessons. His first pianoforte piece of any dimensions, and apparently his earliest existing composition, was a 4-hand phantasia, containing more than a dozen movements, all of different characters, and occupying 32 pages of very small writing. It is dated 8 April—1 May 1810, and was followed by two smaller ones.^[12] His brother remarks that not one of the three ends in the key in which it began. The next is a long vocal piece for voice and PF., called 'Hagars Klage'—Hagar's lament over her dying son—dated March 30, 1811, also containing 12 movements, with curious unconnected changes of key; and another, of even grimmer character, attributed to the same year, is called 'Leichenfantasie,' or Corpse-fantasia, to the words of Schiller's gruesome juvenile poem of the same name:—

Mit erstorbnem Scheinen
Steht der Mond auf todtenstillen Hainen,
⁠Seufzend streicht der Nachtgeist durch die Luft—
⁠⁠Nebelwolken schauern,
⁠⁠Sterne tranern
⁠Bleich herab, wie Lampen in der Graft.

With a deathlike glimmer
Stands the moon above the dying trees,
⁠Sighing wails the Spirit through the night;
⁠⁠Mists are creeping,
⁠⁠Stars are peeping
⁠Pale aloft like torches in a cave.

and so forth. This has 17 movements, and is quite as erratic in its changes of key and disregard of the compass of the voice as the preceding.^[13] The reminiscences of Haydn's 'Creation,' Mozart's opera airs, and Beethoven's Andantes, are frequent in both. A fourth is 'Der Vatermörder'—the Parricide—for voice and PF., '26 December, 1811,' a pleasant Christmas piece! a decided advance on the two previous songs in individuality of style, and connection. 1811 also saw the composition of a quintet-overture, a string quartet, a second phantasia for 4 hands, and many songs.^[14] For 1812 the list is more instrumental. It contains an overture for orchestra in D; a quartet overture in B♭; string quartets in C, B♭, and ^[15]D; a sonata for PF., violin, and cello; variations in E♭, and an andante, both for PF.; a Salve Regina and a Kyrie. In 1813 an octet^[16] for wind; 3 string quartets in C, B♭, E♭ and D; minuets and trios for orchestra and for PF.; a third phantasia for the PF. 4 hands; several songs, terzets, and canons; a cantata in two movements, for 3 male voices and guitar, for his father's birthday, Sept. 27—both words and music his own; and his first symphony in ^[17]D, intended to celebrate the birthday of Dr. Lang, and finished on Oct. 28. With this very important work his time at the Convict ended. He might have remained longer; for it is said that the Emperor, who took an interest in the lads of his chapel, had specially watched the progress of this gifted boy with the lovely voice and fine expression, and that a special decision had been registered in his favour on Oct. 21, assuring him a foundation scholarship in the school, provided that during the vacation he should study sufficiently to pass an examination.^[18] This however he declined, possibly at the instigation of Körner the poet, who was in Vienna at this time, and is known to have influenced him in deciding to throw himself entirely into music.^[19] He accordingly left the Convict (between Oct. 26 and Nov. 6), and returned home. His mother died in 1812, but we hear nothing of the event, unless the octet just named refers to it. The father married again in about a year, and the new wife, as we shall see, did her duty to her stepson Franz fully, and apparently with affection.

Franz was now just completing his seventeenth year, and what has been rightly called the first period of his life. The Convict has much to answer for in regard to Schubert. It was entrusted with the most poetical genius of modern times, and it appears to have allowed him to take his own course in the matter of composition almost unrestrained. Had but a portion of the pains been spent on the musical education of Schubert that was lavished on that of Mozart or of Mendelssohn, we can hardly doubt that even his transcendent ability would have been enhanced by it, that he would have gained that control over the prodigious spontaneity of his genius which is his only want, and have risen to the very highest level in all departments of composition, as he did in song-writing. But though Eybler and Salieri were the conductors of the choir in chapel, it does not appear that they had any duties in the school, and Ruzicka, the thoroughbass master, like Holzer, was so prostrated by Schubert's facility as to content himself with exclaiming that his pupil already knew all he could teach him, and must have 'learned direct from heaven.' If all masters adopted this attitude towards their pupils, what would have become of some of the greatest geniuses? The discomforts of the school appear to have been great even for that day of roughness. One of the pupils speaks of the cold of the practice-room as 'dreadful' (schauerlich); and Schubert's own earliest letter, dated Nov. 24, 1812, to his brother Ferdinand, shows that these young growing lads were allowed to go without food for 8½ hours, between 'a poor dinner and a wretched supper.' There was not even sufficient music paper provided for the scholars, and Schubert was, as we have seen, dependent on the bounty of the richer pupils.

On the other hand, the motets and masses in the service, the rehearsals in the school, such teaching as there was, and the daily practisings, must have been both stimulating and improving, and with all its roughness a good deal of knowledge could not but have been obtainable. One advantage Schubert reaped from the Convict—the friends which he made there, many of them for life, Spaun, Senn, Holzapfel, Stadler, and others, all afterwards more or less eminent, who attached themselves to him as every one did who came into contact with him; a band of young adorers, eager to play, or sing, or copy anything that he composed; the earnest of the devoted friends who surrounded him in later years, and helped to force his music on an ignorant and preoccupied public. Nor did the enthusiasm cease with his departure; for some years afterwards the orchestral pieces which he had written while at the school were still played by the boys from his own MS. copies. Outside the school he had sometimes opportunities of going to the opera. The first opera which he is said to have heard was Weigl's 'Waisenhaus,' played Dec. 12, 1810; but this was eclipsed by the 'Schweitzer-familie' of the same composer, July 8, 1811; that again by Spontini's 'Vestalin,' with Milder, Oct. 1, 1812; and all of them by Gluck's 'Iphigenie auf Tauris,' which he probably heard first April 5, 1815, with Milder and Vogl in the two principal parts, and which made a deep and ineffaceable impression upon him, and drove him to the study of Gluck's scores.^[20] During the same years there were also many concerts, including those at which Beethoven produced his 5th, 6th, and 7th Symphonies, the Choral Fantasia, portions of the Mass in C, the Overture to Coriolan, and others of his greatest compositions. Schubert probably heard all these works, but it is very doubtful whether he heard them with the same predilection as the operas just mentioned. We might infer with certainty from the three earliest of his symphonies, that Beethoven's style had as yet taken but little hold on him, notwithstanding the personal fascination which he seems to have felt for the great master from first to last. But, indeed, we have his own express declaration to that effect. Coming home after a performance of an oratorio of Salieri's, June 16, 1816, he speaks of the music in terms which can only refer to Beethoven, as 'of simple natural expression, free from all that bizarrerie which prevails in most of the composers of our time, and for which we have almost solely to thank one of our greatest German artists; that bizarrerie which unites the tragic and the comic, the agreeable and the repulsive, the heroic and the petty, the Holiest and a harlequin; infuriates those who hear it instead of dissolving them in love, and makes them laugh instead of raising them heavenwards.' Mozart was at the time his ideal composer; this too is plain from the symphonies, but here also he leaves us in no doubt. Three days earlier we find in the same ^[21]diary, à propos to one of the quintets of that great master:—'Gently, as if out of the distance, did the magic tones of Mozart's music strike my ears. With what inconceivable alternate force and tenderness did Schlesinger's masterly playing impress it deep, deep, into my heart! Such lovely impressions remain on the soul, there to work for good, past all power of time or circumstances. In the darkness of this life they reveal a clear, bright, beautiful prospect, inspiring confidence and hope. O Mozart, immortal Mozart! what countless consolatory images of a bright better world hast thou stamped on our souls.' There is no doubt to which of these two great masters he was most attached at the time he wrote this.

We have seen what a scourge the conscription proved in the case of Ries (iii. 131a), and the uneasiness of Mendelssohn's family till the risk of it was over in his case (ii. 262b). To avoid a similar danger^[22] Schubert elected to enter his father's school, and after the necessary study for a few months at the Normal School of St. Anna, did so, and actually remained there for three years as teacher of the lowest class. The duties were odious, but he discharged them with strict regularity, and not with greater severity than might reasonably be expected from the irritable temperament of a musician condemned to such drudgery. The picture of Pegasus thus in vile harness, and the absence of any remark on the anomaly, throws a curious light on the beginnings of a great composer. Out of school hours, however, he had his relaxations. There was a family in the Lichtenthal named Grob—a mother, son, and daughter—whose relations to him were somewhat like those of the Breunings to Beethoven (i. 164a). The house was higher in the scale than his father's, and he was quite at home there. Therese, the daughter, had a fine high soprano voice, and Heinrich Grob played both PF. and cello; the mother was a woman of taste, and a great deal of music was made. It is not impossible that Therese inspired him with a softer feeling.^[23] The choir of the Lichtenthal church, where his old friend Holzer was still choirmaster, was his resort on Sundays and feast days, and for it he wrote his first mass, in F—begun May 17, finished July 22, 1814—a fitting pendant to the symphony of the previous October. He was not yet eighteen, and the mass is pronounced by a trustworthy critic^[24] to be the most remarkable first mass ever produced, excepting Beethoven's in C, and as striking an instance of the precocity of genius as Mendelssohn's Overture to the Midsummer Night's Dream. It seems to have been first performed, on Oct. 16, the first Sunday after St. Theresa's day, 1814—Mayseder, then 25, and an acknowledged virtuoso, leading the first violins; and was repeated at the Augustine Church ten days after. This second performance was quite an event. Franz conducted, Holzer led the choir, Ferdinand took the organ, Therese Grob sang, the enthusiasm of the family and friends was great, and the proud father presented his happy son with a five-octave piano.^[25] Salieri was present and loud in his praises, and claimed Schubert as his pupil. He had indeed begun to take some interest in the lad before^[26] he left the Convict, and continued it by daily lessons 'for a ^[27]long time.' That interest was probably much the same that he had shown to Beethoven 15 years before, making him write to Metastasio's words, and correcting the prosody of his music. But there must have been some curious attraction about the old man, to attach two such original geniuses as Beethoven and Schubert to him, and make them willing to style themselves 'scholars of Salieri.'^[28] His permanent influence on Schubert may be measured by the fact that he warned him against Goethe and Schiller, a warning which Schubert attended to so far as to compose 67 songs of the one poet, and 54 of the other!

Franz's next effort was an opera—a light and absurd supernatural 'opéra comique' in 3 acts, 'Des Teufels Lustschloss,' words by Kotzebue. He probably began it while at the Convict, the first act having been completed Jan. 11, 1814; the second, March 16; and the third, May 15. Two days afterwards he began the mass. That over, he had leisure to look again at the earlier work. The experience gained in writing the mass probably revealed many an imperfection in the opera. He at once rewrote it, and finished the redaction of it on Oct. 22. The work has never been performed, nor can it now ever be so, since the second act, like the MS. of the first volume of Carlyle's French Revolution, was used by an officious maid-servant for lighting the fires as late as 1848. With all these and other labours he found time to visit the ^[29]Convict in the evenings, take part in the practices, and try over his new compositions. Besides the pieces already mentioned, the productions of 1814 embrace a Salve Regina for tenor and orchestra. Also 2 string-quartets in D and C minor, still in MS., and a third in B♭, published as op. 168, and remarkable for the circumstances of its composition. It was begun as a string trio, and ten lines were written in that form. It was then begun again and finished as a quartet. The movements are more fully dated than usual.^[30] Also 5 minuets and 6 Deutsche (or waltzes) for strings and horns; and 17 songs, among them 'Gretchen am Spinnrade' (Oct. 19), and Schiller's 'Der Taucher,' a composition of enormous length, begun Sept. 1813, and finished in the following August. On Dec. 10 he began his second symphony, in B♭.^[31] The autograph shows that the short Introduction and Allegro vivace were finished by the 26th of the same month, but its completion falls in 1815. Before the year closed he made the acquaintance of Mayrhofer, a man of eccentric, almost hypochondriac character, and a poet of grand and gloomy cast, who became his firm friend, and 54 of whose ^[32]poems (besides the operas of 'Adrast' and 'Die beiden Freunde von Salamanca'), fortunately for Mayrhofer's immortality, he set to music—some of them among his very finest songs. The acquaintance began by Schubert's setting Mayrhofer's ' Am See.' He composed it on the 7th December, and a few days afterwards visited the poet at his lodgings in the Wipplinger Strasse 420 (since destroyed), a small dark room rendered illustrious by being the residence of Theodore Körner, and afterwards of Schubert, who lived there in 1819 and 20. The visit was the beginning of a friendship which ended only with Schubert's death.

1815 is literally crowded with compositions. Two orchestral symphonies of full dimensions, Nos. 2 and 3 (that in B♭ ended March 24, that in ^[33]D, May 24–July 19); a string quartet in G minor (March 25–April 1); PF. sonatas in C, F, E (Feb. 11) and E (Feb. 18); an adagio in G (April 8), 12 Wiener Deutsche, 8 Ecossaises (Oct. 3), and 10 variations for PF. solo; a masses, in G^[34] (Mar. 2–7) and B♭ (Nov. 11–); a new 'Dona'^[35] for the mass in F; a Stabat Mater in G minor (April 4); a Salve Regina (July 5); 5 large dramatic pieces—'Der vierjährige Posten, 1-act operetta ( ended May 16); 'Fernando,' 1-act Singspiel( July 3–9); 'Claudine von Villabella,' 3-act Singspiel (Act i, July 26–Aug. 5), originally composed complete, but Acts 2 and 3 perished in the same manner as the 'Teufels Lustschloss'; 'Die beiden Freunde von Salamanca,' a 2-act Singspiel by Mayrhofer (Nov. 18–Dec. 31); 'Der Spiegelritter,' 3-act opera, of which 8 numbers are with the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde at Vienna; perhaps also a Singspiel called Die 'Minnesänger,' and 'Adrast,' an opera by Mayrhofer, of which but two numbers exist.^[36] In addition to all these there are no less than 137 songs—67 printed, and 70 still in MS. In August alone there are 29, of which 8 are dated the 15th, and 7 the 19th! And of these 137 songs some are of such enormous length as would seem to have prevented their publication. 'Minona' (MS., Feb. 8), the first one of the year, contains 16, and 'Adelwold and Emma' (MS., June 5) no less than 55 closely written sides. Of those published, 'Die Bürgschaft' ('Aug. 1815') fills 22 pages of Litolft's edition, 'Elysium' 13, and 'Loda's Gespenst' 15 of the same. It was the length of such compositions as these—'pas une histoire, mais des histoires'—that caused Beethoven's exclamation on his deathbed: 'Such long poems, many of them containing ten others,' by which he meant as long as ten. [See p. 346b.] And this mass of music was produced in the mere intervals of his school drudgery! Well might his brother say that the rapidity of his writing was marvellous.

Amidst all this work and, one might be tempted to believe, all this hurry, it is astonishing to find that some of the songs of these boyish years are amongst the most permanent of his productions. 'Gretchen am Spinnrade,' a song full of the passion and experience of a lifetime, was written (as we have said) in Oct. 1814, when he was 17. The 'Erl King' itself in its original form (with a few slight ^[37]differences) belongs to the winter of 1815, and the immortal songs of the 'Heidenröslein,' 'Rastlose Liebe,' 'Schäfers Klagelied,' the grand Ossian songs, and others of his better-known works, fall within this year. The Mass in G, too, though composed for a very limited orchestra, and not without tokens of hurry, is a masterpiece. The dramatic works contain many beautiful movements, and are full of striking things, but the librettos are so bad, that in their present condition they can never be put on the stage. The symphonies, though not original, are not without original points; and are so sustained throughout, so full of fresh melody and interesting harmony, and so extraordinarily scored considering their date, that in these respects a man of double Schubert's age might be proud to claim them.

The habit of writing to whatever words came in his way was one of Schubert's characteristics, especially in the earlier part of his career. With his incessant desire to sing; with an abundant fountain of melody and harmony always welling up in him and endeavouring to escape, no wonder that he grasped at any words, and tried any forms, that came in his way, and seemed to afford a channel for his thoughts. If good, well; if bad, well too. The reason why he wrote 8 operas in one year was no doubt in great measure because he happened to meet with 8 librettos; had it been 4 or 12 instead of 8 the result would have been the same. The variety in the productions even of this early year is truly extraordinary. A glance at the list is sufficient to show that he tried nearly every form of composition, whilst the songs which he set range from gems like Goethe's 'Meeresstille' and 'Freudvoll und leidvoll,' to the noisy ballads of Bertrand; from Mayrhofer's stern classicality and the gloomy romance of Ossian, to the mild sentiment of Klopstock. No doubt, as Schumann says, he could have set a ^[38]placard to music. The spectacle of so insatiable a desire to produce has never before been seen; of a genius thrown naked into the world and compelled to explore for himself all paths and channels in order to discover by exhaustion which was the best—and then to die.

During this year he taught diligently and punctually in his father's school, and attended Salieri's lessons. His relations to the Lichtenthal remained as before. The Mass in G, like that in F, was written for the parish church, and according to the testimony of one^[39] of his old friends was especially intended for those of his companions who had been pupils of Holzer's with him. A pleasant relic of his home life exists in a piece of music written for his father's birthday, Sept. 27, 1815, for 4 voices and orchestra—'Erhabner, verehrter Freund der Jugend.'^[40] He kept up his intercourse also with the Convict, and when he had written anything special it was one of the first places to which he would take it. There possibly his Symphonies were tried, though it is doubtful if a juvenile orchestra would contain clarinets, bassoons, trumpets, and horns, all which are present in the scores of the first four Symphonies. There, thanks to the memorandum of another old 'Convicter,' we can assist at the first hearing of the Erl King. Spaun happened to call one afternoon, in this very winter, at the elder Schubert's house in the Himmelpfortgrund, and found Franz in his room, in a state of inspiration over Goethe's ballad, which he had just seen for the first time. A few times reading had been sufficient to evoke the music, which in the rage of inspiration he was whelming down^[41] on to the paper at the moment of Spaun's arrival; indeed it was already perfect except the mere filling in of the accompaniment. This was quickly done; and it was finished in the form in which we can now see it in the Berlin^[42] Library. In the evening Schubert brought it to the Convict, and there first he and then Holzapfel sang it through. It was not altogether well received. No wonder; the form was too new, the dramatic spirit too strong, even for that circle of young Schubert-admirers. At the words 'Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt fasst er mich an!' where G♭, F♮ and E♭ all come together, there was some dissent, and Ruzicka, as teacher of harmony, had to explain to his pupils, as best he might, a combination which now seems perfectly natural and appropriate.

1816 was passed much as 1815 had been, in a marvellous round of incessant work. The drudgery of the school however had become so insupportable that Schubert seized the opportunity of the opening of a government school of music, at Laibach, near Trieste, to apply for the post of director, with a salary of 500 Vienna florins—£21 a year. The testimonials which he sent-in in April from Salieri, and from Joseph Spendou, Chief Superintendent of Schools, were so cold in tone as to imply that however much they valued Schubert, they believed his qualifications not to be those of the head of a large establishment.^[43] At any rate he failed, and the post was given, on the recommendation of Salieri, to a certain Jacob Schaufl. Schubert found compensation, however, in the friendship of Franz von Schober, a young man of good birth and some small means, who had met with his songs at the house of the Spauns at Linz, and had ever since longed to make his personal acquaintance. Coming to Vienna to enter the University, apparently soon after the Laibach rebuff, he called on Schubert, found him in his father's house, overwhelmed with his school duties, and with apparently no time for music. There, however, were the piles of manuscript—operas, masses, symphonies, songs, heaped up around the young schoolmaster composer, and Schober saw at once that some step must be taken to put an end to this cruel anomaly, and give Schubert time to devote himself wholly to the Art of which he was so full. Schober proposed that his new friend should live with him; Franz's father—possibly not^[44] oversatisfied with his son's performances as a teacher of the alphabet to infants—consented to the plan, and the two young men (Schober was some four months Franz's junior) went off to keep house together at Schober's lodgings in the Landkrongasse. A trace of this change is found on two MS. songs in the Musik Verein at Vienna, 'Leiden der Trennung' and 'Lebenslied,' inscribed 'In Herr v. Schober's lodging,' and dated Nov. 1816. Schubert began to give a few lessons, but soon threw them ^[45]up, and the household must have been maintained at Schober's expense, since there was obviously as yet no sale for Schubert's compositions. He had good friends, as Beethoven had had at the same age, though not so high in rank—Hofrath von Kiesewetter, Matthäus von Collin, Graf Moritz Dietrichstein, Hofrath Hammer von Purgstall, Pyrker, afterwards Patriarch of Venice and Archbishop of Erlau, Frau Caroline Pichler—all ready and anxious to help him had they had the opportunity. But Schubert never gave them the opportunity. He was a true Viennese, born in the lowest ranks, without either the art or the taste for 'imposing' on the aristocracy (Beethoven's^[46] favourite phrase) that Beethoven had; loving the society of his own class, shrinking from praise or notice of any kind, and with an absolute detestation of teaching or any other stated duties.

But to know him was to love and value him. Three little events, which slightly diversify the course of this year, are of moment as showing the position which Schubert took amongst his acquaintances. The first was the 50th anniversary of Salieri's arrival in Vienna, which he had entered as a boy on June 16, 1766. [See [[A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Salieri, Antonio#218|Salieri, iii. 218b.] On Sunday, June 16, 1816, the old Italian was invested with the Imperial gold medal and chain of honour, in the presence of the whole body of Court-musicians; and in the evening a concert took place at his own house, in which, surrounded by his pupils, Weigl, Assmayer, Anna Fröhlich, Schubert, and many^[47] others, both male and female, he snuffed up the incense of his worshippers, and listened to compositions in his honour by his scholars past and present. Among these were pieces sent by Hummel and Moscheles, and a short cantata, both words and music by Schubert.^[48]

Eight days afterwards, on July 24, there was another festivity in honour of the birthday of a certain ^[49]Herr Heinrich Watteroth, a distinguished official person, for which Schubert had been employed to write a cantata on the subject of Prometheus, words by Philipp Dräxler, another official person. The cantata has disappeared; but from a description of it by Leopold Sonnleithner, communicated to 'Zellner's Blätter für Theater,' etc. (no. 19), and reprinted^[50] separately, it seems to have been written for two solo voices, soprano (Gäa), and bass (Prometheus), chorus, and orchestra, and to have contained a duet in recitative, two choruses for mixed and one for male voices (the disciples of Prometheus). This last is described as having been in the form of a slow march, with original and interesting treatment. The performance took place in the garden of Watteroth's house in the Erdberg suburb of Vienna. As all the persons concerned in the festivity were people of some consideration, and as the music was very well received, it may have been an important introduction for the young composer. A congratulatory poem by von Schlechta, addressed to Schubert, appeared a day or two later in the 'Theaterzeitung.' Schubert had already, in the previous year, set a song of Schlechta's—'Auf einem Kirchhof' (Lief. 49, no. 2), and he promptly acknowledged the compliment by adopting one of more moment from Schlechta's 'Diego Manzanares,' 'Wo irrst du durch einsame Schatten?' (40 Lieder, no. 25), his setting of which is dated July 30, 1816.^[51] Schubert evidently was fond of his cantata. It was performed at Innspruck by Gansbacher, and at Vienna by Sonnleithner in 1819. Schubert wished to give it at the Augarten in 1820, and had sent it somewhere for performance at the time of his death. He was paid 100 florins, Vienna currency (or £4) for it, and he notes in his journal that it was the first time he had composed for money.

The third event was the composition of a cantata on a larger scale than either of the others. It was addressed to Dr. Joseph Spendou, in his character of Founder and Principal of the Schoolmasters' Widows' Fund, and contained 8 numbers, with solos for two sopranos and bass, a quartet and choruses, all with orchestral accompaniment. Whether it was performed or not is uncertain, but it was published in 1830 in PF. score by Diabelli, as op. 128. The other compositions of the year 1816 are as numerous as usual. A fine trio for S.S.A. and PF. to the words of Klopstock's 'grosses Halleluja' (Lf. 41, no. 2); a Salve Regina in F, to German words, for 4 voices and organ^[52] (Feb. 21, 1816); the Angels' chorus from Faust, 'Christ ist erstanden,'^[53] dated June 1816—are also among the printed works. A Stabat Mater in F minor, to Klopstock's German words, dated Feb. 28, 1816, is still in MS. It is written for soprano, tenor, and bass solo, and chorus, and for an orchestra of the usual strings, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, 1 contra-bassoon, 2 horns, 3 trombones, 2 trumpets and drums. These however are not uniformly employed: the trumpets and drums only appear for a few chords in Nos. 9 and 12; No. 5, an 8-part chorus, is accompanied by the wind alone, and No. 6, a tenor air, by the strings, with oboe solo. This interesting looking work was performed in 1841 by the Musik-Verein of Vienna, and in 1863 at the Altlerchenfelder church there, but has not yet been published. Two other MS. works are a Magnificat in C, for solos, chorus, and orchestra, dated Oct. 1816, and a duet for soprano and tenor with orchestra, to Latin words, 'Auguste jam Cœlestium,' dated Sept. 1816, both much tinctured by Mozart. There is also a 'Tantum ergo' in C for 4 voices and orchestra, Aug. 1816, and a fragment of a Requiem in E♭, July 1816; the first pages are wanting, and it ends with the 2nd bar of the 2nd Kyrie.^[54]

Of operas we find only one in 1816, probably because only one libretto came in his way. It is called 'Die Bürgschaft,' and is in 3 acts. The author of the words is not known; and the quotations in Kreissle show that they are in great part absolute rubbish. Schubert continued his task to the 3rd act, 15 numbers, and there stopped. The autograph, in Herr Dumba's possession, is dated May 1816, and no portion of it is printed.

The Symphonies of 1816 are two—the 4th, in C minor, ^[55]entitled 'Tragic Symphony,' and dated April 1816; and the 5th, in B♭, for^[56] small orchestra, dated Sept. 1816–Oct. 3, 1816. The first of these—hardly 'tragic' so much as 'pathetic'—is a great advance on its predecessors; the Andante is individual and very beautiful, and the Finale wonderfully spirited. The other, though full of Mozart, is as gay and untrammelled as all Schubert's orchestral music of that day. It is sometimes entitled 'without Trumpets or Drums,' and is said to have been composed for the orchestra at the Gundelhof, which grew out of the Schubert Sunday afternoon quartets.^[57] 6 Neither work has yet been published in ^[58]score, but they have often been played at the Crystal Palace, under Mr. Manns's direction, and are among the favourite works in the répertoire of that establishment. A string quartet in F; a string trio in B♭, apparently very good; a rondo in A for violin solo and quartet (June 1816); a violin concerto in C; 3 sonatinas for PF. and violin (op. 137); a PF. sonata in F, two movements of another in E; various marches for PF.; 12 Deutsche (waltzes); 6 Ecossaises, with the inscriptions 'Composed while a prisoner in my room at Erdberg' and 'Thank God'—probably the relic of some practical joke—are still existing.

Very little of the above, however interesting, can be said to be of real, first-rate, permanent value. But when we approach the songs of 1816 the case is altered. There are not quite so many with this date as there were with that of 1815, but there are 99 in all—41 printed and 58 in MS. Of Goethe there are splendid specimens, the three songs of the Harper, in 'Wilhelm Meister' (op. 12, Sept. 6), Mignon's 'Sehnsucht' song (op. 62, no. 4); Der Fischer; Der König in Thule (op. 5, no. 5), Jägers Abendlied, and Schäfersklagelied (op. 3), Wanderer's Nachthed (op. 4), Schwager Kronos (op. 19). Of Schiller there are the beautiful Ritter Toggenburg, Thekla's song (op. 58), etc., and to name only one other, the far-famed 'Wanderer,' by Schmidt of Lubeck.

These magnificent pieces are well known to every lover of Schubert, but they are not more valued than such exquisitely simple and touching little effusions as 'An eine Quelle' of Claudius (op. 109, no. 3), 'Der Abend' of Kosegarten (op. 118, no. 2), or 'Der Leidende' of Hölty (Lief. 50, no. 2), all equally bearing his stamp.

The lists of the songs of these two years throw a curious light on Schubert's musical activity and mode of proceeding. Dr. Johnson was said when he got hold of a book to 'tear the heart out of it,' and with Schubert it was very much the same. To read a poem, and at once to fasten upon it and transcribe it in music, seems to have been his natural course; and having done one he went at once to the next. A volume of Hölty, or Claudius, or Kosegarten came into his hands; he tore from it in a moment what struck him, and was not content with one song, but must have three, four, or five. Thus, in Oct. 1815, he evidently meets with Kosegarten's poems, and between the 15th and 19th sets seven of them. In March 1816 he sets five songs by Salis; in May, six by Hölty; in November, four by Claudius, three by Mayrhofer, and so on. To read these lists gives one a kind of visible image of the almost fierce eagerness with which he attacked his poetry, and of the inspiration with which the music rushed from his heart and through his pen—'everything that he touched,' says Schumann, 'turning into music.' Thus, at a later date, calling accidentally on Randhartinger, and his friend being summoned from the room, Schubert, to amuse himself in the interval, took up a little volume which lay on the table. It interested him; and as his friend did not return he carried it off with him. Anxious for his book, Randhartinger called next morning at Schubert's lodgings, and found that he had already set several pieces in it to music. The volume was Wilhelm Müller's poems; the songs were part of the 'Schone Müllerin.' A year or two after this, in July 1826 it is his old friend Doppler who tells the story returning from a Sunday stroll with some friends through the village of Wahring, he saw a friend sitting at a table in the beer-garden of one of the taverns. The friend, when they joined him, had a volume of Shakespeare on the table. Schubert seized it, and began to read; but before he had turned over many pages pointed to 'Hark, hark, the lark,' and exclaimed, 'Such a lovely melody has come into my head, if I had but some music paper.' Some one drew a few staves on the back of a bill of fare, and there, amid the hubbub of the beer-garden, that beautiful song, so perfectly fitting the words, so skilful and so happy in its accompaniment, came into perfect existence. Two others from the same poet not improbably followed in the evening.^[59]

It has been said that Schubert never heard his Symphonies played. This is no doubt true of the beautiful unfinished one in B minor, of the Gastein Symphony, and of the great one in C, no. 10; but of the first six it is not so correct. There was always the pupils' band at the Convict, where, as we have seen, parts in his handwriting are said to have lingered; and there was also a flourishing amateur society, which, though their execution may not have had the precision of firstrate artists, yet probably played well enough to enable a composer to judge if his effects were what he intended them to be. Vienna amateurs were by no means contemptible. A society who met at the Mehlgrube even ventured on bringing out such works as Beethoven's Overture to Coriolan for the first time. Another, assembling at the Römische Kaiser, performed the Mount of Olives, Beethoven himself conducting.

It seems that the Quartet afternoons at the house of Schubert the elder had gradually extended themselves into performances of Haydn's Symphonies, arranged as quartets and played with doubled parts, players of ability and name joined, and a few hearers were admitted. After a time, the modest room became inconveniently crowded, and then the little society migrated to the house of a tradesman named Frischling (Dorotheengasse 1105), wind instruments were added, and the smaller works of Pleyel, Haydn, and Mozart were attacked. In the winter of 1815 another move became necessary, to the house of Otto Hatwig, one of the violins of the Burgtheater, at the Schottenthor, and in the spring of 1818, to his new residence in the Gundelhof, and later still at Pettenkofer's house in the Bauernmarkt. The band now contained some good professional players, and could venture even on Beethoven's two first symphonies, and the overtures of Cherubini, Spontini, Boieldieu, Weigl, etc. Schubert belonged to it all through, playing the viola, and it was probably with the view to their performance by the society that he wrote the two symphonies of 1816 (nos. 4 and 5), two overtures in the winter of 1817, and his 6th symphony in the spring of 1818.

Schober and Mayrhofer were Schubert's first friends outside the immediate circle of his youthful associates. He was now to acquire a third, destined to be of more active service than either of the others. This was Vogl. He was 20 years Franz's senior, and at the time of their meeting was a famous singer at the Vienna Opera, admired more for his intellectual gifts than for the technical perfection of his singing, and really great in such parts as Orestes in 'Iphigenie,' Almaviva in 'Figaro,' Creon in 'Medea,' and Telasko in the 'Vestalin.' About the year 1816—the date is not precisely given—Vogl was induced by Schober to come to their lodgings, and see the young fellow of whom Schober was always raving, but who had no access to any of the circles which Vogl adorned and beautified by his presence. The room as usual was strewed with music. Schubert was confused and awkward; Vogl, the great actor and man of the world, gay, and at his ease. The first song he took up—probably the first music of Schubert's he had ever seen—was Schubart's 'Augenlied' (Lf. 50, no. 3). He hummed it through, and thought it melodious, but slight—which it is. 'Ganymed' and the 'Schäfersklage' made a deeper impression; others followed, and he left with the somewhat patronising but true remark, 'There is stuff in you; but you squander your fine thoughts instead of making the most of them.' But the impression remained, he talked of Schubert with astonishment, soon returned, and the acquaintance grew and ripened till they became almost inseparable, and until in their performances of Schubert's songs, 'the two seemed,' in Schubert's own words, 'for the moment to be one.' In those days songs were rarely if ever sung in concert-rooms; but Vogl had the entrde to all the great musical houses of Vienna, and before long his performances of the Erl King, the Wanderer, Ganymed, Der Kampf, etc., with the composer's accompaniment, were well known. What Vogl's opinion of him ultimately became, may be learnt from a passage in his diary:—'Nothing shows so plainly the want of a good school of singing as Schubert's songs. Otherwise, what an enormous and universal effect must have been produced throughout the world, wherever the German language is understood, by these truly divine inspirations, these utterances of a musical clairvoyance! How many would have comprehended, probably for the first time, the meaning of such expressions as 'speech and poetry in music,' 'words in harmony,' 'ideas clothed in music,' etc., and would have learnt that the finest poems of our greatest poets may be enhanced and even transcended when translated into musical language? Numberless examples may be named, but I will only mention The Erl King, Gretchen, Schwager Kronos, the Mignon and Harper's songs, Schiller's Sehnsucht, Der Pilgrim, and Die Bürgschaft.'

This extract shows how justly Vogl estimated Schubert, and how, at that early date, his discernment enabled him to pass a judgment which even now it would be difficult to excel. The word clairvoyance, too, shows that he thoroughly entered into Schubert's great characteristic. In hearing Schubert's compositions it is often as if one were brought more immediately and closely into contact with music itself than is the case in the works of others; as if in his pieces the stream from the great heavenly reservoir were dashing over us, or flowing through us, more directly, with less admixture of any medium or channel, than it does in those of any other writer even of Beethoven himself. And this immediate communication with the origin of music really seems to have happened to him. No sketches, no delay, no anxious period of preparation, no revision, appear to have been necessary. He had but to read the poem, to surrender himself to the torrent, and to put down what was given him to say, as it rushed through his mind. This was the true 'inspiration of dictation,' as much so as in the utterance of any Hebrew prophet or seer. We have seen one instance in the case of the Erl King. The poem of the Wanderer attracted him in the same way, and the song was completed in one evening. In a third case, that of Goethe's 'Rastlose Liebe,' the paroxysm of inspiration was so fierce that Schubert never forgot it, but reticent as he often was, talked of it years afterwards.^[60] It would seem that the results did not always fix themselves in the composer's memory as permanently as if they had been the effect of longer and more painful elaboration. Vogl^[61] tells an anecdote about this which is very much to the point. On one occasion he received from Schubert some new songs, but being otherwise occupied could not try them over at the moment. When he was able to do so he was particularly pleased with one of them, but as it was too high for his voice, he had it copied in a lower key. About a fortnight afterwards they were again making music together, and Vogl placed the transposed song before Schubert on the desk of the piano. Schubert tried it through, liked it, and said, in his Vienna dialect, 'I say! the song's not so bad; whose is it?' so completely, in a fortnight, had it vanished from his mind! Sir Walter Scott attributed a song of his own to Byron; but this was in 1828, after his mind had begun to fail.^[62]

1817 was comparatively an idle year. Its great musical event was the arrival of Rossini's music in Vienna. 'L'Inganno felice' was produced at the Hof theatre, Nov. 26, 1816, and 'Tancredi,' Dec. 17; 'L'ltaliana in Algeri,' Feb. 1, 1817, and 'Giro in Babilonia,' June 18; and the enthusiasm of the Viennese—like that of all to whom these fresh and animated strains were brought—knew no bounds. Schubert admired Rossini's melody and spirit, but rather made fun of his orchestral music, and a story is told—not impossibly ^[63]apocryphal—of his having written an overture in imitation of Rossini, before supper, after returning from 'Tancredi.' At any rate he has left two 'Overtures in the Italian style' in D and C, dated Sept.^[64] and Nov. 1817 respectively, which were much played at the time. Schubert made 4-hand PF. arrangements of both, and that in C has been since published in score and parts as op. 170, and has been played at the Crystal Palace (Dec. 1, 66, etc.) and elsewhere. Its caricature of Rossini's salient points, including of course the inevitable crescendo, is obvious enough; but nothing could transform Schubert into an Italian, and the overture has individual and characteristic beauties which are immediately recognisable. The influence of Rossini was no mere passing fancy, but may be traced in the 6th Symphony, mentioned below, and in music of his later life—in the two Marches (op. 121), the Finale to the Quartet in G (op. 161), and elsewhere.

A third Overture in D belongs to 1817, and though still in MS., has also been played at the Crystal Palace (Feb. 6, 69, etc.). It is in two movements, Adagio, and Allo. giusto, and the former is almost a draft of the analogous movement in the overture known as 'Rosamunde' (op. 26), though really the 'Zauberharfe.' There the resemblance ceases.—What led Schubert to the pianoforte this year in so marked a manner is not known, but his devotion to it is obvious, for no fewer than 6 sonatas belong to this period. Of these, 3 are published—op. 122, in E♭; op. 147,^[65] in B (August); op. 164, in A minor.^[66] Those still in MS. are in F, A♭, and E minor (June).

Schubert's 6th Symphony, in C,^[67] completed in February 1818, appears to have been begun in the preceding October. It is the first one which he has marked as 'Grand'—'Grosse Sinfonie'—though hardly with reason, as both in form and orchestra it is the same as the early ones. It is an advance on the others, and the Scherzo shows the first decided signs of Beethoven's influence. Passages may also be traced to Rossini and the Italian opera.

The catalogue of the instrumental compositions of this year closes with 2 sonatas for PF. and violin, op. 137, nos. 1 (March) and 2; a string Trio^[68] and a Polonaise for the violin, both in MS. In the number of the vocal compositions of 1817 there is an equal falling off. Rossini's popularity for the time shut the door against all other composers, and even Schubert's appetite for bad librettos was compelled to wait. Not only, however, are there no operas this year, there is no church music, and but 47 songs (32 printed, and 15 in MS.). In quality, however, there is no deterioration in the songs. The astonishing 'Gruppe aus dem Tartarus,' and the 'Pilgrim' of Schiller; the 'Ganymed' of Goethe; the 'Fahrt zum Hades,' 'Memnon,' and 'Erlafsee' of Mayrhofer; and 'an die Musik' of Schober, are equal to any that come before them. Among the MS. songs is one showing the straits to which Schubert was sometimes put, either by the want of materials or by the sudden call of his inspiration. It is the beginning of a setting of Schiller's 'Entzückung an Laura,' and is written on the front page of the 2nd violin part of a duet-fugue by Fux, the words 'Fuga. Duetto. Violino Secundo. Del: Sing:^[69] Fux.' appearing in the copyist's formal handwriting through Schubert's hasty notes. It is superscribed 'Entzückung an Laura Abschied August 1817. Schubert Mpia'—interesting as showing that in 'Abschied,' he has added his own comment to Schiller's words; that he dated his pieces at the moment of beginning them; and that he sometimes signed his name without the 'Franz.'

His circle of intimate friends was increased about this date by Anselm and Joseph Hüttenbrenner and Joseph Gahy. Anselm, four years his senior, was a pupil of Salieri's, and there they had met in 1815. With the younger brother, Joseph, he became acquainted in the summer of 1817.^[70] Both were men of independent means, and Anselm was a musician by profession. Gahy was in the government employment, an excellent pianoforte player, of whom Schubert was for long very fond. The younger Hüttenbrenner was bewitched by Schubert, much as Krumpholz and Schindler were by Beethoven; and was ever ready to fetch and carry for his idol, and to praise whatever he did, till the idol would turn on his worshipper, and be so cruel as to get the nickname of 'The Tyrant' from the rest of the set.

How Schubert existed since he threw up his place at the school and left his father's house is a point on which we are in entire ignorance. His wants were few, but how even those few were supplied is a mystery. We have seen that he lived rent-free with Schober for a few months in 1816, but the return of Schober's brother put an end to the^[71] arrangement, and from that date he must have been indebted to Spaun, or some friend better off than himself, for lodgings, for existence, and for his visits to the theatre, for there is no trace of his earning anything by teaching in 1817, and the few pounds paid him for the Watteroth cantata is the only sum which seems to have earned up to this date.

In the summer of 1818, however, on the recommendation of Unger, the father of Mad. Unger-Sabatier, the great singer, Schubert accepted an engagement as teacher of music in the family of Count Johann Esterhazy, to pass the summer at his country seat at Zelész, in Hungary, on the Waag, some distance east of Vienna, and the winter in town. He was to be a member of the establishment and to receive two gulden for every lesson. The family consisted of the Count and Countess, two daughters, Marie, 13, and Caroline, 11, and a boy of 5. All were musical. The Count sang bass, the Countess and Caroline contralto, Marie had a fine soprano, and both daughters played the piano. Baron von Schönstein, their intimate friend, slightly older than Schubert, a singer of the highest qualities, with a noble baritone voice, made up the party, which certainly promised all the elements of enjoyment. It was a pang to Schubert to part from the circle of his companions, to whom he was devoted, but it is not difficult to imagine how pleasant he must have found the comfort and generous living of the Esterhazy house, while at the same time there would be opportunities of retirement, and abundant means of diversion in a beautiful country, a new people, and the Hungarian and gipsy melodies.

When they left town does not appear.^[72] Schubert's Mass in ^[73]C, his 4th, written like the others, for Holzer, is dated 'July, 1818'; but there is nothing to show whether it was finished in Vienna or in the country. A set of MS. Solfeggi for the Countess Marie, also dated July, is perhaps evidence that by that time they were settled at Zelész. Two letters to Schober are printed by ^[74]Bauernfeld, and are dated Aug. 3, and Sept. 18, 1818. The first is addressed to his home circle, his 'dearest fondest friends … Spaun, Schober, Mayrhofer, and Senn … you who are everything to me.' There are messages also to Vogl, and to Schober's mother and sister, and to 'all possible acquaintances,' and an urgent entreaty to write soon—'every syllable of yours is dear to me.' He is thoroughly well and happy, and 'composing like a god.… Mayrhofer's Einsamkeit is ready, and I believe it to be the best thing I have yet done, for I was without anxiety' (ohne Sorge—the italics are his own). 'Einsamkeit' (Lf. 32) is a long ballad, filling 19 close pages of print, with a dozen changes of tempo and as many of signature; perhaps not quite coming up to his own estimate of it, though both words and music are often very striking. The length of this and other ballads will probably always hinder their wealth of melody, dramatic effects, and other striking beauties, from being known by the world at large.

The other letter, seven weeks later, throws more light on his position at Zelész, 'as Composer, manager, audience, everything, in one.' 'No one here cares for true Art, unless it be now and then the Countess; so I am left alone with my beloved, and have to hide her in my room, or my piano, or my own breast. If this often makes me sad, on the other hand it often elevates me all the more. Several songs have lately come into existence, and I hope very successful ones.' He is evidently more at home in the servants' hall than the drawing-room. 'The cook is a pleasant fellow; the ladies'-maid is thirty; the housemaid very pretty, and often pays me a visit; the nurse is somewhat ancient; the butler is my rival; the two grooms get on better with the horses than with us. The Count is a little rough; the Countess proud, but not without heart; the young ladies good children. I need not tell you, who know me so well, that with my natural frankness I am good friends with everybody.' The letter ends with an affectionate message to his parents.

The only songs which can be fixed to this autumn, and which are therefore doubtless those just referred to, besides the great 'Einsamkeit,' are the 'Blumenbrief' (Lief. 21, no. i), 'Blondel und Maria,' 'Das Marienbild' and 'Litaney,' 'Das Abendroth'—for a contralto, evidently composed for the Countess; 'Vom Mitleiden Mariä,' and three Sonnets from Petrarch (MS.). The Hungarian national songs left their mark in the '36 original dances,' or 'First Waltzes' (op. 9), some of which were written down in the course of the next year. The 'Divertissement à la hongroise,' and the Quartet in A minor (op. 29), in which the Hungarian influence is so strong, belong—the first apparently, the second certainly—to a much later period.

A third letter of this date, hitherto unprinted, with which the writer has been honoured by the granddaughter^[75] of Ferdinand Schubert, to whom it was addressed, is not without interest, and is here printed entire. The Requiem referred to was by Ferdinand, and had evidently been sent to his brother for revision. The letter throws a pleasant light on the strong link existing between Franz and his old home, and suggests that assistance more solid than 'linen' may often have reached him from his fond step-mother in his poverty in Vienna. In considering the pecuniary result of the engagement, it must be remembered that the florin was at that time only worth a franc, instead of two shillings. The month's pay therefore, instead of being £20, was really only about £8. Still, for Schubert that was a fortune.

24 Aug. 1818.

Dear brother Ferdinand,

It is half-past 11 at night, and your Requiem is ready. It has made me sorrowful, as you may believe, for I sang it with all my heart. What is wanting you can fill in, and put the words under the music and the signs above. And if you want much rehearsal you must do it yourself, without asking me in Zelész. Things are not going well with you; I wish you could change with me, so that for once you might be happy. You should find all your heavy burdens gone, dear brother; I heartily wish it could be so.—My foot is asleep, and I am mad with it. If the fool could only write it wouldn't go to sleep!

Good morning, my boy, I have been asleep with my foot, and now go on with my letter at 8 o'clock on the 25th. I have one request to make in answer to yours. Give my love to my dear parents, brothers, sisters, friends, and acquaintances, especially not forgetting Carl. Didn't he mention me in his letter? As for my friends in the town, bully them, or get some one to bully them well till they write to me. Tell my mother that my linen is well looked after, and that I am well off, thanks to her motherly care. If I could have some more linen I should very much like her to send me a second batch of pocket-handkerchiefs, cravats, and stockings. Also I am much in want of two pair of kerseymere trowsers. Hart can get the measure wherever he likes. I would send the money very soon. For July, with the journey-money, I got 200 florins.

It is beginning already to be cold, and yet we shall not start for Vienna before the middle of October. Next month I hope to have a few weeks at Freystadt, which belongs to Count Erdödy, the uncle of my count. The country there is said to be extraordinarily beautiful. Also I hope to get to Pesth while we are at the vintage at Bosczmedj, which is not far off. It would be delightful if I should happen to meet Herr Administrator Taigele there. I am delighted at the thought of the vintage, for I have heard so much that is pleasant about it. The harvest also is beautiful here. They don't stow the corn into barns as they do in Austria, but make immense heaps out in the fields, which they call Tristen. They are often 80 to 100 yards long, and 30 to 40 high, and are laid together so cleverly that the rain all runs off without doing any harm. Oats and so on they bury in the ground.

Though I am so well and happy, and every one so good to me, yet I shall be immensely glad when the moment arrives for going to Vienna. Beloved Vienna, all that is dear and valuable to me is there, and nothing but the actual sight of it will stop my longing! Again entreating you to attend to all my requests, I remain, with much love to all, your true and sincere,

Franz Mpia.

A thousand greetings to your good wife and dear Besi, and a very hearty one to aunt Schubert and her daughter.

The inscription 'Zelész, Nov. 1818' on the song 'Das Abendroth' shows that the return to Vienna was not till nearly the end of the year. He found the theatre more than ever in possession of Rossini. To the former operas, 'Elisabetta' was added in the autumn, and 'Otello' early in Jan. 1819. But one of the good traits in Schubert's character was his freedom from jealousy, and his determination to enjoy what was good, from whatever quarter it came, or however much it was against his own interest. A letter of his to Hüttenbrenner, written just after the production of 'Otello,' puts this in very good light. 'Otello is far better and more characteristic than Tancredi. Extraordinary genius it is impossible to deny him. Hie orchestration is often most original, and so is his melody; and except the usual Italian gallopades, and a few reminiscences of Tancredi, there is nothing to object to.' But he was not content to be excluded from the theatre by every one, and the letter goes on to abuse the 'canaille of Weigls and Treitschkes,' and 'other rubbish, enough to make your hair stand on end,' all which were keeping his operettas off the boards. Still, it is very good-natured abuse, and so little is he really disheartened, that he ends by begging Hüttenbrenner for a libretto; nay, he had actually just completed a little piece called 'Die Zwillingsbrüder' ('the Twins'), translated by Hofmann from the French—a Singspiel in one act, containing an overture and 10 numbers. He finished it on Jan. 19, 1819, and it came to performance before many months were over.

Of his daily life at this time we know nothing. We must suppose that he had regular duties with his pupils at the Esterhazys' town house. but there is nothing to say so. We gather^[76] that he joined Mayrhofer in his lodgings, 420 in the Wipplingerstrasse, early in the year. It was not a prepossessing apartment. 'The lane was gloomy; both room and furniture were the worse for wear; the ceiling drooped; the light was shut out by a big building opposite a worn-out piano, and a shabby bookcase.' The only relief is the name of the landlady—Sans-souci, a Frenchwoman. No wonder that Mayrhofer's poems—he was ten years Schubert's senior—were of a gloomy cast.

The two friends were on the most intimate terms, and addressed each other by nicknames. What Mayrhofer's appellation may have been we do not know, but Schubert, now and later, was called 'the Tyrant,' for his treatment of Hüttenbrenner; also 'Bertl,' 'Schwammerl,' and, best of all, 'Kanevas' because when a stranger came into their circle his first question always was, 'Kann er was?' 'Can he do anything?' Their humour took all sorts of shapes, and odd stories are told of their sham fights, their howls, their rough jokes and repartees.^[77] Mayrhofer was a Government employé, and went to his office early, leaving his fellow-lodger behind. Schubert began work directly he awoke, and even slept in his spectacles to save trouble; he got at once to his writing, sometimes in bed, but usually at his desk. It was so still, when Hiller^[78] called on him eight years later. 'Do you write much?' said the boy, looking at the manuscript on the standing desk—they evidently knew little in North Germany of Schubert's fertility. 'I compose every morning, was the reply; and when one piece is done, I begin another.' And yet this was the musicien le plus poète que jamais—it might have been the answer of a mere Czerny! Add to this a trait, communicated to the writer by Schubert's friend, Franz Lachner, of Munich, that when he had completed a piece, and heard it sung or played, he locked it up in a drawer, and often never thought about it again.

This close work went on till dinner-time—two o'clock—after which, as a rule, he was free for the day, and spent the remainder either in a country walk with friends, or in visits—as to Sofie Miiller, and Mad. Lacsny Buchwieser, whom we shall encounter further on; or at Schober's rooms, or some coffee-house—in his later days it was Bogner's Café in the Singerstrasse, where the droll cry of a waiter was a never-ending pleasure to him. But no hour or place was proof against the sudden attack of inspiration when anything happened to excite it. An instance occurs at this very time, Nov. 1819, in an overture for 4 hands in F (op. 34), which he has inscribed as 'written in Joseph Hüttenbrenner's room at the City Hospital in the inside of three hours; and dinner missed in consequence.'^[79] If the weather was fine he would stay in the country till late, regardless of any engagement that he might have made in town.

The only compositions that can be fixed to the spring of 1819 are 5 songs dated February, and one dated March; a very fine quintet for equal voices, to the 'Sehnsucht' song in 'Wilhelm Meister'—a song which he had already set for a single voice in 1816, and was to set twice more in the course of his life (thus rivalling Beethoven, who also set the same words four times); an equally fine quartet for men's voices, 'Ruhe, schönstes Glück der Erde,' dated April; and four sacred songs by Novalis, dated May. [App. p.786 "also a fine overture in E minor published in Series II. of the complete edition."]

The earnings of the previous summer allowed him to make an expedition this year on his own account. Mayrhofer remained in Vienna, and Vogl and Schubert appear to have gone together to Upper Austria. Steyr was the first point in the journey, a town beautifully situated on the Enns, not far south of Linz. They reached it early in July; it was Vogl's native place, and he had the pleasure of introducing his friend to the chief amateurs of the town, Paumgartner, Koller, Dornfeld, Schellmann—substantial citizens of the town, with wives and daughters, 'Pepi Koller,' 'Frizi Dornfeld,' 'the eight Schellmann girls,' etc., who all welcomed the musician with real Austrian hospitality, heard his songs with enthusiasm, and themselves helped to make music with him. His friend Albert Stadler was there also with his sister Kathi. How thoroughly Schubert enjoyed himself in this congenial bourgeois society, and in such lovely country—he mentions its beauties each time he writes—we have ample proof in two letters.^[80] Among other drolleries the Erl King was sung with the parts distributed amongst Vogl, Schubert, and Pepi Koller. Perhaps too Schubert gave them his favourite version of it on a comb. Vogl's birthday (Aug. 10) was celebrated by a cantata in C, containing a terzet, 2 soprano and 2 tenor solos, and a finale in canon, pointed by allusions to his various operatic triumphs, words by Stadler, and music by Schubert.^[81] After this the two friends strolled on to Linz, the home of the Spauns, and of Kenner and Ottenwald, whose verses Franz had set in his earlier days; and thence perhaps to Salzburg, returning to Steyr about the end of the month. Nor did the joviality of these good Austrians interfere with composition. Besides the impromptu cantata just mentioned, the well-known PF. quintet (op. 114), in which the air of 'Die Forelle' is used as the theme of the Andantino, was written at Steyr, possibly as a commission from the good Paumgartner, and was performed by the Paumgartner party. Schubert achieved in it the same feat which is somewhere ascribed to Mozart, of writing out the separate parts without first making a score, and no doubt played the pianoforte part by heart. The date of their departure, Sept. 14, is marked by an entry in the album of Miss Stadler, when Schubert delivered himself of the following highly correct sentiment:—'Enjoy the present so wisely, that the past may be pleasant to recollect, and the future not alarming to contemplate.' This may pair off with a sentence written by Mozart, in English, in the Album of an English Freemason, which has not yet been printed: 'Patience and tranquility of mind contribute more to cure our distempers as the whole art of medicine. Wien, den 30te März 1787.'^[82]

A few days more saw them again settled in Vienna. Each of the two letters preserved from the journey contains an obvious allusion to some love affair; but nothing is known of it. He could hardly have adopted a more effectual diversion from such sorrows than the composition of a mass, on an extended scale; that namely in A♭—his 5th—which he began this month under the serious title of 'Missa Solemnis'; but he seems to have dawdled over it more than over any other of his works; as it was not finished till Sept. 1822, and contains many marks of indecision.

The most pregnant musical event of this year is the fact that on Feb. 28, 1819, a song of Schubert's was sung in public—the 'Schäfers Klagelied,' sung by Jäger at Jäll's concert, at 5 p.m. at the 'Römische Kaiser,' Vienna. It was Schubert's first appearance before the public in any capacity, and is noticed by the Leipzig A. M. Z. in these terms:—'Goethe's Schäfers Klagelied set to music by Herr Franz Schubert—the touching and feeling composition of this talented young man was sung by Herr Jäger in a similar spirit.' Such is the first utterance of the press on one who has since evoked so much enthusiasm! In the course of this year Schubert appears to have forwarded the three songs, 'Schwager Kronos,' 'Ueber Thal' (Mignon), and 'Ganymed,'—afterwards published as op. 19,—to Goethe; but no notice was taken by the poet of one who was to give some of his songs a wider popularity than they could otherwise have enjoyed, a popularity independent of country or language; nor does Schubert's name once occur in all the 6 vols. of Goethe's correspondence with Zelter.^[83]

1820 was again a year of great activity. Owing to Vogl's influence, Schubert was gradually attracting the attention of the managers. The 'Zwillingsbrüder' had been written for the Kärnthnerthor theatre (see p. 330b), and it was not long before the regisseur of the rival opera-house, the Theatre an-der-Wien, suggested to him a libretto called the 'Zauberharfe,' or 'Magic harp,' a melodrama in 3 acts, by the same Hofmann who had translated the former piece. To receive such a proposal and to act upon it was a matter of course with Schubert, and the 'Zauberharfe' is said to have been completed in a fortnight.^[84] But before this, early in the year, he had met with the works of A. H. Niemeyer, Professor of Theology at Halle, and had adopted the poem of 'Lazarus, or the Feast of the Resurrection' for an Easter Cantata. Easter fell that year on April 2, and his work is dated 'February,' so that he was in ample time. The poem—or drama, for there are seven distinct characters—is in three parts, 1. The sickness and death. 2. The burial and elegy. 3. The resurrection. Of these the 2st and a large portion of the 2nd were completed by Schubert, apparently without the knowledge of any of his friends. Ferdinand mentions the first part in his list,^[85] but the existence of the second was unknown, till, through the instrumentality of Mr. Thayer, it was unearthed in 1861. These have been ^[86]published, but no trace of the 3rd act has yet been found, and the work was not performed till long after the composer's death—viz. in 1863.

On June 14 the 'Zwillingsbrüder' or 'Zwillinge' was produced at the Karnthnerthor theatre. It is a comic operetta ('Posse'), with spoken dialogue, in one act, containing an overture and 10 numbers, and turns on the same plot that has done duty in 'Box and Cox' and a dozen other farces, the confusion between two twin-brothers, who were both acted by Vogl. The overture was encored on the first night, and Vogl's two songs were much applauded, but the piece was virtually a fiasco, and was withdrawn after six representations. Schubert took so little interest in its production that, like Mendelssohn at the 'Wedding of Camacho,' he did not even stay in the house, and Vogl had to appear instead of him in front of the curtain. The libretto, though overburdened with characters, is sadly deficient in proportion, and contains very little action. Schubert's music, on the other hand, is light, fresh, and melodious, pointed, unusually compact, and interesting throughout. In the concerted numbers there is evidence of great dramatic power. To condemn it, as the critics of the day do, as wanting in melody, and constantly striving after originality, is to contradict Schubert's most marked characteristics, and is contrary to the facts. There is possibly more justice in the complaint that the accompaniments were too loud, though that is certainly not the fault in his masses, his only other published works with orchestral accompaniments anterior to this date. The work has been published in vocal score by Peters (1872).

On August 19 the Zauberharfe was produced at the Theatre an-der-Wien. It is said to consist chiefly of chorus and melodrama, with only a few solos, among them a romance for tenor which was highly praised. There is a fine overture (in C), original, characteristic, and full of beauty, which was published before 1828 as op. 26, under the name of 'Rosamunde,' to which it seems to have no ^[87]claim. The piece was occasionally brought forward till the winter, and was then dropped. These three vocal works appear so far to have whetted Schubert's appetite that in the autumn he attacked the more important libretto of 'Sakontala,' a regular opera in 3 acts, by P. H. Neumann, founded on the Indian drama of that name. He sketched 2 acts, and there it remains; the MS. is in Herr Dumba's possession. Another important and very beautiful piece is the 23rd ^[88]Psalm, set for 2 sopranos and 2 altos with PF. accompaniment, at the instigation of the sisters Fröhlich, and dated at the beginning '23 Dec. 1820'—perhaps with a view to some private concerts given, now or later, at the old hall of the Musikverein. Another is the 'Gesang der Geister über den Wassern' of Goethe (op. 167). This fine and mystical poem had a strong attraction for Schubert. He set it for 4 equal voices in 1817; then he reset it for 4 tenors and 4 basses with 2 violas, 2 cellos, and bass, in Dec. 1820; and lastly revised this in Feb. 1821 . It was first produced on March 7, 1821, and found no favour, to Schubert's disgust. It was again performed on March 30, before a more receptive audience, with a far better result. It was revived at Vienna in 1858 by Herbeck, and in England was performed with success on March 22, 1881, under the direction of Mr. Prout. It is enormously difficult, and, though perfectly in character with the poem, will probably never be attractive to a mixed audience. Another work of 1820 were some antiphons (op. 113) for Palm Sunday (March 26), composed for Ferdinand, who had been recently appointed Choirmaster at the Altlerchenfelder Church, and found the duties rather too much for him. They are written with black chalk, on coarse gray wrapping-paper; and the tradition is that they and two motets were written in great haste, just in time for the service. On Easter Sunday Franz attended and conducted the mass for his brother.

The Fantasie in C for PF. solo (op. 15), containing Variations on Schubert's own 'Wanderer,' is probably a work of this year. It was written for von Liebenberg, a PF. player, to whom Schubert dedicated it. This fine piece has lately been brought into vogue by Liszt's arrangement of it for PF. and orchestra as a concerto; but it is doubtful if it is improved by the process. Schubert never could play it; he always stuck fast in the last movement; and on one occasion jumped up and cried 'let the devil himself play it!' Another piece is an Allegro for strings in C minor, dated Dec. 1820, the first movement of a quartet, of which there exist besides 41 bars of the Andante, in A♭. The Allegro is of first-rate quality, and Schubert in every bar. It was published in 1868 by Senff. The MS. is in Mr. Brahms's fine collection of autographs.

The songs of 1820, 17 in all, though not so numerous as those of previous years, are very fine. They contain 'Der Jüngling auf dem Hugel' (op. 8, no. 1), 'Der Schiffer' (Lf. 33, no. 1), 'Liebeslauschen' (Lf. 15, no. 2), 3 grand songs to Mayrhofer's words, 'Orest auf Tauris,' 'Der entsühnte Orest,' and 'Freiwilliges Versinken' (Lf. 11), and 4 Italian Canti, written for Frl. von Homer, who afterwards married Schubert's friend Spaun, and since published with one which was probably written under Salieri's eye as early as 1813. The most remarkable of all is 'Im Walde' or 'Waldesnacht' (Lf. 16), a very long song of extraordinary beauty, variety, force, and imagination.

With February 1821 Schubert entered his 25th year, and it was a good omen to receive such a birthday present as the three testimonials of this date which Kreissle has ^[89]preserved. The first is from von Mosel, then Court Secretary; the second from Weigl, Director of the Court Opera, Salieri, and von Eichthal; the third from Moritz Count Dietrichstein, whom Beethoven addresses as 'Hofmusikgraf,' and who appears to have been a sort of Jupiter-Apollo with general sway over all Court music. These influential personages warmly recognise his eminent ability, industry, knowledge, feeling, and taste, and profess the best intentions towards him. The three documents were enclosed by the Count in a letter to Vogl, full of good wishes for the future of his friend. Still more gratifying was the prospect, which now at last opened, of the publication of his songs. It was the first good epoch in Schubert's hitherto struggling life. He had now been writing for more than seven years, with an industry and disregard of consequences which are really fearful to contemplate; and yet, as far as fame or profit were concerned, might almost as well have remained absolutely idle. Here at length was a break in the cloud. It was not less welcome because it was mainly due to his faithful friends, the Sonnleithners, who had made his acquaintance through the accident of Leopold Sonnleithner's being at school with him, and ever since cherished it in the most faithful and practical way, Ignaz, the father, having, since 1815, had large periodical music-meetings of artists and amateurs in his house at the Gundelhof, which were nothing less than Schubert propaganda. Here, before large audiences of thoroughly musical people, Schubert's pieces were repeatedly performed, and at length, on Dec. 1, 1820, the 'Erl King' was sung by Gymnich, a well-known amateur, with a spirit which fired every one of the audience with the desire to possess the song, and appears to have suggested to Leopold and Gymnich the possibility of finding a publisher for the inspirations which had for so long been their delight and astonishment. They applied to Diabelli and Haslinger, the leading houses of Vienna, but without success; the main objections being the insignificance of the composer, and the difficulty of his PF. accompaniments. On this they resolved to take the matter into their own hands; and, probably not without misgivings, had the 'Erl King' engraved. The fact was announced at the next Concert at the Gundelhof, and a hundred copies were at once subscribed for in the room—sufficient to defray the cost of the engraving and printing, and of engraving a second song as well. Meantime the 'Erl King' had been sung in public (for the concerts at the Gundelhof were, strictly speaking, private, limited to the friends of the host) by Gymnich, at an evening concert of the Musikverein, in one of the public rooms of the city, on Jan. 25, 1821, Schubert himself appearing on the platform, and playing the accompaniment. Everything was done by the young enthusiasts to foster the Schubert furore, even to the publication of a set of 'Erl King waltzes' by A. Hüttenbrenner, which at any rate must have made the name familiar, though they provoked Schubert, and drew from Kanne some satirical hexameters and pentameters which may be read in Kreissle.^[90] On Feb. 8 the programme of the Musikverein Concert included three songs of his, the 'Sehnsucht' by Schiller, 'Gretchen am Spinnrade,' and 'Der Jüngling auf dem Hügel'; and on March 8 the 'Gruppe aus dem Tartarus.' On March 7 the 'Erl King' was again sung, this time by Vogl himself, at an unmistakeable public concert, at the Kärnthnerthor theatre, a concert supported by all the most distinguished ladies of the Court, who received the song with loud applause. Think what the first appearance of these godlike pieces must have been! It was the rising of the Sun! He is now an every-day sight to us; but how was it the first time that he burst in all his brightness on the eyes of mortals? In the midst of all this enthusiasm the 'Erl King' was published on the 1st of April, 1821, by Cappi and Diabelli, on commission. It was dedicated to Count Moritz Dietrichstein, whose kindness well deserved that recognition. On April 30, 'Gretchen am Spinnrade' appeared as op. 2. The succeeding publications—each made to depend on the success of the last—were as follows:—

May 29.	Op. 3. Schäfers Klagelied; Meeres Stille; Heidenröslein; Jägers Abendlied.
Do.	Op. 4. Der Wanderer; Morgenlied; Wanderers Nachtlied.
July 9.	Op. 5. Rastlose Liebe; Nähe des Geliebten; Der Fischer; Erster Verlust; Der König in Thule.
Aug. 23.	Op. 6. Memnon; Antigone und Oedip; Am Grabe Anselmos.
Nov. 27.	Op. 7. Die abgeblühte Linde; Der Flug der Zeit; Der Tod und das Mädchen.

Here the publication by commission stopped, the Diabellis being evidently convinced that the risk might be profitably assumed; and accordingly op. 8 appears on May 9, 1822, as 'the property of the publishers.' The dedications of the first seven numbers no doubt furnish the names of Schubert's most influential supporters: 1. Graf von Dietrichstein; 2. Reichsgraf Moritz von Fries; 3. Ignaz von Mosel; 4. Johann Ladislaus Pyrker, Patriarch of Venice; 5. Salieri; 6. Michael Vogl; 7. Graf Ludwig Széchényi. It must be admitted that the above are very good lists, and that if Schubert had waited long for the publication of his works, the issue of twenty songs in eight months, under the patronage of seven such eminent personages, was a substantial compensation. We do not hear, however, that much money came into his hands from the publication. The favourable impression made by the publication may be gathered from the long, intelligent, and sympathetic criticism, 'Blick auf Schuberts Lieder,' by F. von Hentl, which appeared in the 'Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst,' etc.—a periodical belonging to Diabelli's rivals, Steiner & Co.—for March 23, 1822.

Schubert was now a good deal about the theatre, and when it was determined to produce a German version of Hérold's 'Clochette,' as 'Das Zauberglöckchen,' at the Court-opera, he was not unnaturally called upon to insert a couple of pieces to suit the Vienna audience. It was what Mozart often did for the Italian operas of his day—what indeed we know Shakspeare to have done in more than one case. The opera was produced on June 20. The interpolated pieces were a long air for tenor, ^[91]in 3 movements—Maestoso, Andante, and Allegro—full of passion and imagination, and a comic duet (said to be very comic) between the princes B flat and C natural (Bedur and Cedur). They were more applauded than anything else in the work, but Schubert's name was not divulged; the opera as a whole did not please, and was soon withdrawn.

The little Variation which he contributed, as no. 38, to Diabelli's collection of 50 Variations—the same for which Beethoven wrote his 33 (op. 120)—should not be overlooked. Though not published till 1823, the autograph, now in the Hofbibliothek at Vienna, is dated 'March 1821.' The variation is fresh and pretty, in the minor of the theme, but is more noticeable from its situation than from its own qualities. A few dances for PF. solo are dated '8th March' and 'July' in this year, and a collection of 36, containing those alluded to, and others of 1816 and 1819, was published by Cappi and Diabelli on Nov. 29, as op. 18. Some of these are inscribed in the autograph 'Atzenbrucker Deutsche, July 1821,' indicating a visit to Atzenbruck, the seat of an uncle of Schober's, near Abstetten, between Vienna and St. Pölten, where a three days' annual festivity was held, to which artists of all kinds were invited, and where Schubert's presence and music were regarded as indispensable.

Whether after this he and Schober returned to Vienna we know not, no letters remain; but the next event of which any record remains is the composition of a Symphony, his seventh, in E, which is marked, without note of place, as begun in August. He did not complete the writing of it, and indeed it is probable that it did not occupy him more than a few hours; but the autograph, which is in the writer's possession,^[92] is a very curious manuscript, probably quite unique, even among Schubert's feats of composition. It occupies 167 pages of 42 sheets, (10 quires of 4, and 1 of 2), and is in the usual movements—Adagio in E minor, and Allegro in E major; Andante in A; Scherzo in C, and Trio in A; and Allegro giusto in E major. The Introduction and a portion of the Allegro are fully scored and marked; but at the 110th page—the end of a page—Schubert appears to have grown impatient of this regular proceeding, and from that point to the end of the work has made merely memoranda. But these memoranda, in their way, perfectly complete and orderly to the end of the Finale. Every bar drawn-in; the tempi and names of the instruits are fully written at the beginning of each movement; the nuances are all marked; the double bars and flourishes are gravely led at the end of the sections, and 'Fine' at conclusion of the whole; and Schubert evidently regarded the work as no less complete on the paper than it was in his mind. And complete it virtually is; for each subject is given at full length, with a bit of bass or accompaniment-figure, or fugato passage. There is not a bar from beginning to end that does not contain the part of one or more instruments; at all crucial places the scoring is much fuller; and it would no doubt be possible to complete it as Schubert himself intended. It is said that Mendelssohn contemplated doing so, but this is probably a mere legend, and Mendelssohn was too practical to give his time to a work which at the best could only be regarded as a curiosity. Though containing much that is original, and as deeply imbued throughout with melody and spirit as any of the preceding six, this symphony is, like them, virtually a work of the old school, and it required another year before Schubert could break with the past, and in the two movements of his unfinished 8th Symphony in B minor, and the great Entr'acte to 'Rosamunde,' in the same key, appear in the orchestra in his own individual and native shape, as he had done in the Song so many years before.^[93]

We next find the two friends at the castle of Ochsenburg, a few miles south of St. Pölten, the seat of the Bishop, who was a relative of Schober's; and there and in St. Pölten itself they passed a thoroughly happy and healthy holiday of some weeks in September and October. The Bishop and Baron Mink, a local magnate, were congenial hosts, and the visit of the two clever young men was the signal for various festivities, in which all the aristocracy of the country-side—'a princess, two countesses, and three baronesses,' in Schober's enumeration—took part, and in which the music and drollery of Schubert and his friend delighted every one. The great result of the visit however was the composition of opera to Schober's words, on a romantic subject of battles, love, conspiracy, hunting, peasant life, and everything else, so natural in opera librettos, so impossible in real life. It was called 'Alfonso and Estrella,' and two acts were completed before their return to town. The first act is dated at the end of the autograph Sept. 20, and the second Oct. 20. A week later they were back again in Vienna.

The songs composed in 1821 are very important, and comprise some of his very finest, and in the most various styles. It is sufficient to name among the published ones 'Grenzen der Menschheit' (Feb., Lf. 14, no. 1); 'Geheimes' (March, op. 14, no. 2); Suleika's two songs (ops. 14, 31); 'Sey mir gegrüsst' (op. 20, no. 1); and 'Die Nachtigal,' for four men's voices (op. 11, no. 2)—all of the very highest excellence, of astonishing variety, and enough of themselves to make the fame of any ordinary composer. A fine setting of 'Mahomet's song,' by Goethe, for bass (possibly for Lablache), was begun in March, but remains a MS. fragment.

The third act of 'Alfonso and Estrella' was finished on Feb. 27, 1822. The fact that a thoroughly worldly, mercenary, money-making manager like Barbaja, who was at the same time a firm believer in Rossini, had become lessee of the two principal theatres of Vienna, augured badly for Schubert's chance of success in that direction. But indeed the new piece seems to have been calculated to baffle any manager, not only in Vienna, but everywhere else. It caused, as we shall see, a violent dispute, eighteen months later, between Schubert and Weber, which but for Schubert's good temper would have led to a permanent quarrel. Anna Milder, to whom Schubert sent a copy of the work in 1825, tells him in a letter full of kindness and enthusiasm, that the libretto will not suit the taste of the Berliners, 'who are accustomed to the grand tragic opera, or the French opéra comique.' Nor was the libretto the only drawback. Schubert, like Beethoven in 'Fidelio,' was in advance of the modest execution of those days. At Gratz, the abode of the Hüttenbrenners, where there was a foyer of Schubert-enthusiasts, the opera got as far as rehearsal, and would probably have reached the stage, if the accompaniments had not proved impossible for the band.^[94] No performance took place until twenty-six years after poor Schubert's death, namely at Weimar, on June 24, 1854, under the direction of Liszt, who, with all his devotion to the master, had to reduce it much for performance. It was very carefully studied, and yet the success, even in that classical town, and with all Liszt's enthusiasm and influence, seems to have been practically nil. At last, however, its time came. Twenty-five years later, in 1879, it was again taken in hand by Capellmeister Johann Fuchs of the Court opera, Vienna, who entirely rewrote the libretto, and greatly curtailed the work; and in this form it was brought to performance at Carlsruhe in March 1881, with great success. Several numbers were extremely applauded, and the opera now bids fair to become a stock piece in the German, and let us hope the English, theatres.

But to return to Schubert and 1822. Early in the year he made the acquaintance^[95] of Weber, who spent a few weeks of February and March in Vienna to arrange for the production of his Euryanthe. No particulars of their intercourse on this occasion survive. With Beethoven Schubert had as yet hardly exchanged words. And this is hardly to be wondered at, because, though Vienna was not a large city, yet the paths of the two men were quite separate. Apart from the great difference in their ages, and from Beethoven's peculiar position in the town, his habits were fixed, his deafness was a great obstacle to intercourse, and, for the last five or six years, what with the lawsuits into which his nephew dragged him, and the severe labour entailed by the composition of the Mass in D, and of the Sonatas ops. 106, 109, 110, and 111—works which by no means flowed from him with the ease that masses and sonatas did from Schubert—he was very inaccessible. Any stranger arriving from abroad, with a letter of introduction, was seen and treated civilly. But Schubert was a born Viennese, and at the time of which we speak, Beethoven was as much a part of Vienna as St. Stephen's tower, and to visit him required some special reason, and more than special resolution.

A remark of Rochlitz's^[96] in the July of this year shows that Schubert was in the habit of going to the same restaurant with Beethoven, and worshipping at a distance; but the first direct evidence of their coming into contact occurs at this date. On April 19, 1822, he published a set of Variations on a French air as op. 10, and dedicated them to Beethoven as 'his admirer and worshipper' (sein Verehrer und Bewunderer). The Variations were written in the preceding winter, and Schubert presented them in person to the great master. There are two versions of the interview, ^[97]Schindler's and J. Hüttenbrenner's. Schindler was constantly about Beethoven. He was devoted to Schubert, and is very unlikely to have given a depreciating account of him. There is therefore no reason for doubting his statement, especially as his own interest or vanity were not concerned. It is the first time we meet Schubert face to face. He was accompanied by Diabelli, who was just beginning to find out his commercial value, and would naturally be anxious for his success. Beethoven was at home, and we know the somewhat overwhelming courtesy with which he welcomed a stranger. Schubert was more bashful and retiring than ever; and when the great man handed him the sheaf of paper and the carpenter's pencil provided for the replies of his visitors, could not collect himself sufficiently to write a word. Then the Variations were produced, with their enthusiastic dedication, which probably added to Beethoven's good humour. He opened them and looked through them, and seeing something that startled him, naturally pointed it out. At this Schubert's last remnant of self-control seems to have deserted him, and he rushed from the room. When he got into the street, and was out of the magic of Beethoven's personality, his presence of mind returned, and all that he might have said flashed upon him, but it was too late. The story is perfectly natural, and we ought to thank Beethoven's Boswell for it. Which of us would not have done the same? Beethoven kept the Variations and liked them; and it must have been some consolation to the bashful Franz to hear that he often played them with his nephew. Hüttenbrenner's ^[98]story is that Schubert called, but found Beethoven out; which may have been an invention of Diabelli's to shield his young client.

This autumn Schubert again took up the Mass in A♭, which was begun in 1819; finished it, and inscribed it 'im 7^b 822 beendet.'^[99] Not that that was the final redaction; for, contrary to his usual practice—in fact it is almost a solitary instance—he took it up again before his death, and made material improvements^[100] both in the position of the voice-parts and in the instrumentation, as may be seen from the autograph score now in the Library of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde.

This year seems to have been passed entirely in Vienna, at least there are no traces of any journey; and the imprisonment in the broiling city, away from the nature he so dearly loved, was not likely to improve his spirits. What events or circumstances are alluded to in the interesting piece called 'My ^[101]dream,' dated 'July 1822,' it is hard to guess. It may not improbably have been occasioned by some dispute on religious subjects of the nature of those hinted at in his brother Ignaz's letter^[102] of Oct. 12, 1818. At any rate it is deeply pathetic and poetical.

During this summer Joseph Hüttenbrenner was active in the cause of his friend. He made no less than four endeavours to bring out the 'Teufels Lustschloss'—at the Josefstadt and Court theatres of Vienna, at Munich, and at Prague. At Prague alone was there a gleam of hope. Hollbein, the manager there, requests to have the score and parts sent to him, at the same time regretting that during a month which he had passed in Vienna, Schubert had not once come near him. Hüttenbrenner also urged Schubert on Peters, the publisher, of Leipzig, who in a tedious egotistical letter, dated Nov. 14, 1822, gives the usual sound reasons of a cautious publisher against taking up with an unknown composer—for in North Germany Schubert was still all but unknown. One is sorry to hear of a little rebuff which he sustained at this time from the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde of Vienna, to whom he applied to be admitted as a practising member (on the viola), but who refused him on the ground of his being a professional, and therefore outside their rules.^[103] A somewhat similar repulse was experienced by Haydn from the Tonkünstler Societät. [See vol. i. 707a.] On the other hand, the musical societies both of Linz and Gratz elected him an honorary member. To the latter of these distinctions we owe the two beautiful movements of the Symphony No. 8, in B minor, which was begun at Vienna on Oct. 30, 1823, and intended as a return for the compliment. The Allegro and Andante alone are finished, but these are of singular beauty and the greatest originality. In them, for the first time in orchestral composition, Schubert exhibits a style absolutely his own, untinged by any predecessor, and full of that strangely direct appeal to the hearer of which we have already spoken. It is certain that he never heard the music played, and that the new and delicate effects and orchestral combinations with which it is crowded, were the result of his imagination alone. The first movement is sadly full of agitation and distress. It lay hidden at Gratz for many years, until obtained from Anselm Hüttenbrenner by Herbeck, who first produced it in Vienna at one of the Gesellschaft concerts in 1865.^[104] It was published by the excellent Spina early in 1867; was played at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, April 6, 1867, and elsewhere in England, and always with increasing success. In fact no one can hear it without being captivated by it.

The Songs composed in 1822—14 printed and 2 in MS.—comprise 'Epistel von Collin' (Lf. 46; Jan.); 'Heliopolis' (Lf. 37, no. 1; April); 'Todesmusik,' with a magnificent opening (op. 108, no. 2; Sept.); 'Schatzgräbers Begehr' (op. 23, no. 4; Nov.) with its stately bass; 'Willkommen und Abschied' (op. 56, no. 1; Dec.); 'Die Rose' (op. 73) and 'Der Musensohn' (op. 92). The concerted pieces, 'Constitutionslied' (op. 157; Jan.), 'Geist der Liebe' (op. 11, No. 3), 'Gott in der Natur' (op. 133), and 'Des Tages Weihe' (op. 146), all belong to this year.

Publication went on in 1822, though not so briskly as before. The Variations dedicated to Beethoven (op. 10) were first to appear, on April 19. They were followed by op. 8 (4 songs) on May 9, and op. 11 (3 part-songs) on June 12. Then came a long gap till Dec. 13, on which day ops. 12, 13, and 14, all songs, appeared at once. We have not space to name them. But with such accumulated treasures to draw upon, it is unnecessary to say that they are all of the first class. The pecuniary result of the publications of 1821 had been good; 2000 gulden were realised, and of the 'Erl King' alone more than 800 copies had been sold; and if Schubert had been provident enough to keep his works in his own possession he would soon have been out of the reach of want. This however he did not do. Pressed by the want of money, in an incautious moment he sold the first 12 of his ^[105]works to Diabelli for 800 silver gulden (£80), and entered into some injudicious arrangement with the same firm for future publications. His old and kind friend Count Dietrichstein about this time offered him a post as organist to the Court Chapel, but he refused it, and he was probably right, though in so doing he greatly distressed his methodical old father. His habits, like Beethoven's, made it absurd for him to undertake any duties requiring strict attendance.

The Vienna Theatre being closed to Alfonso and Estrella, Schubert turned his thoughts in the direction of Dresden, where his admirer Anna Milder was living, and where Weber was Director of the Opera; and we find him in a letter of Feb. 28, 1823 (recently published^[106] for the first time) asking his old patron Herr von Mosel for a letter of recommendation to Weber. He is confined to the house by illness, and apologises for not being able to call. There are no traces of reply to this application, but it probably led to nothing, for, as we shall see, the score of the opera was still in his hands in October. He was evidently now set upon opera. In the letter just mentioned he implores von Mosel to entrust him with a libretto 'suitable for his littleness'; and though he seems never to have obtained this, he went on with the best he could get, and 1823 saw the birth of no less than three dramatic pieces. The first was a one-act play with dialogue, adapted from the French by Castelli, and called 'die Verschworenen,' or 'the Conspirators.' The play was published in the 'Dramatic Garland'—an annual collection of dramas—for 1823. Schubert must have seen it soon after publication, and by April had finished the composition of it. The autograph, in the British Museum, has at the end the words 'Aprill 1823. F. Schubert, Ende der Oper.' It contains an overture and 11 numbers, and appears from Bauernfeld's testimony to have been composed with a view to representation at the Court-theatre. The libretto is a very poor one, with but few dramatic points, and confines the composer mainly to the Chorus. The licensers changed its title to the less suspicious one of 'Der häusliche Krieg' or 'The domestic Struggle,' and it was duly sent in to the management, but it returned in twelve months without examination. It did not come to performance at all during Schubert's lifetime, nor till 1861. In that year it was given, under Herbeck's direction, by the Musikverein, Vienna, on March 1 and 22; and on the stage at Frankfort on Aug. 29; since then at the Court-theatre, Vienna, at Munich, Salzburg, and other German towns; in Paris, Feb. 3, 1868, as 'La Croisade des Dames,' and at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, March 2, 1872 as 'The Conspirators.' In less than two months after throwing off this lively Singspiel, Schubert had embarked in something far more serious, a regular 3-act opera of the 'heroico-romantic' pattern—also with spoken dialogue—the scene laid in Spain, with Moors, knights, a king, a king's daughter, and all the usual furniture of these dreary compilations. The libretto of 'Fierabras,' by Josef Kupelwieser—enough of itself to justify all^[107] Wagner's charges against the opera books of the old school—was commissioned by Barbaja for the Court-theatre. The book was passed by the Censure on July 21; but Schubert had by that time advanced far in his labours, and had in fact completed more than half of the piece. He began it, as his own date tells us, on May 25. Act I, filling 304 pages of large oblong paper,^[108] was completely scored by the 31st of the month; Act 2, in 5 days more, by June 5; and the whole 3 acts, fully 1000 pages, and containing an overture and 23 numbers, were entirely out of hand by Oct. 2. And all for nothing! Schubert was not even kept long in suspense, for early in the following year he learnt that the work had been dismissed. The ground for its rejection was the badness of the libretto; but knowing Barbaja's character, and seeing that Kupelwieser was secretary to a rival house (the Josefstadt), it is difficult not to suspect that the commission had been given by the wily Italian, merely to facilitate the progress of some piece of business between the two establishments.

It is, as Liszt has remarked, extraordinary that Schubert, who was brought up from his youth on the finest poetry, should have unhesitatingly accepted the absurd and impracticable librettos which he did, and which have kept in oblivion so much of his splendid music. His devotion to his friends, and his irrepressible desire to utter what was in him, no doubt help to explain the anomaly, but an anomaly it will always remain. It is absolutely distressing to think of such extraordinary ability, and such still more extraordinary powers of work, being so cruelly thrown away, and of the sickening disappointment which these repeated failures must have entailed on so simple and sensitive a heart as his. Fortunately for us the strains in which he vents his griefs are as beautiful and endearing as those in which he celebrates his joys:—

He wore no less a loving face
Because so broken hearted.

His work this summer was not however to be all disappointment. If the theatre turned a deaf ear to his strains there were always his beloved songs to confide in, and they never deceived him. Of the Song in Schubert's hands we may say what Wordsworth so well says of the Sonnet:—

⁠With this key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound.*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠and when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The thing became a trumpet, whence he blew
Soul-animating strains, alas too few!

—with the notable difference that it was given to Schubert to gather up and express, in his one person and his one art, all the various moods and passions which Wordsworth has divided amongst so many mighty poets.

And now, in the midst of the overwhelming tumult and absorption which inevitably accompany the production of so large a work of imagination as a three-act opera, brought into being at so extraordinarily rapid a pace, he was to stop, and to indite a set of songs, which though not of greater worth than many others of his, are yet so intelligible, so expressive, address themselves to such universal feelings, and form so attractive a whole, that they have certainly become more popular, and are more widely and permanently beloved, than any similar production by any other composer. We have already described the incident through which Schubert made acquaintance with the Müller-lieder^[109] of Wilhelm Müller, twenty of which he selected for the beautiful series or 'Cyclus,' so widely known as the 'Schöne Müllerin.' We have seen the enduring impatience with which he attacked a book when it took his fancy, and the eagerness with which he began upon this particular one. We know that the Müller-lieder were all composed this year; that some of them were written in hospital; that No. 15 is dated 'October'; that a considerable interval elapsed between the 2nd and 3rd Act of 'Fierabras'—probably the best part of July and August. Putting these facts together it seems to follow that the call on Randhartinger (see p. 327a) and the composition of the first numbers of the 'Schöne Müllerin' took place in May, before he became immersed in 'Fierabras.' Then came the first two Acts of that opera; then his illness, and his sojourn in the hospital, and more songs; then the third Act of the opera; and lastly the completion of the Lieder.

Be this as it may, there was no lack of occupation for Schubert after he had put 'Fierabras' out of hand. Weber arrived in Vienna late in September 1823, and on Oct. 3 began the rehearsals of 'Euryanthe'; and for a month the musical world of Austria was in a ferment. After the first performance, on Oct. 25, Weber and Schubert came somewhat into collision. Schubert, with characteristic frankness, asserted that the new work wanted the geniality and grace of 'Der Freischütz,' that its merit lay mainly in its harmony,^[110] and that he was prepared to prove that the score did not contain a single original melody. Weber had been much tried by the rehearsals, by the growing conviction that his work was too long, and by the imperfect success of the performance; and with a combination of ignorance and insolence which does him no credit replied, 'Let the fool learn something himself before he criticises me.' Schubert's answer to this was to off to Weber with the score of 'Alfonso and Estrella.' When they had looked through this, Weber returned to Schubert's criticisms on 'Euryanthe,' and finding that the honest Franz stuck to his point, was absurd enough to lose his temper, and say, in the obvious belief that the score before him was Schubert's first attempt, 'I tell you the first puppies and the first operas are always drowned.' Franz, it is unnecessary to say, bore no malice, even for so galling a speech, and it is due to Weber to state that he took some pains later to have the work adopted at the Dresden theatre.^[111]

Schubert did not yet know the fate which awaited 'Fierabras'; all was at present couleur de rose; and the fascination of the theatre, the desire innate in all musicians, even one so self-contained as Schubert, to address a large public, sharpened not improbably by the chance recently enjoyed by the stranger, was too strong to be resisted, and he again, for the third time in ten months, turned towards the stage. This time the temptation came in the shape of 'Rosamunde, Princess of Cyprus,' a play of ultra-romantic character, by Madame von Chezy, authoress of 'Euryanthe,' a librettist whose lot seems to have been to drag down the musicians connected with her. The book of 'Rosamunde' must have been at least as inefficient as that with which Weber had been struggling, to cause the failure of such magnificent and interesting music as Schubert made for it. The drama has disappeared, but Kreissle^[112] gives the plot, and it is both tedious and improbable. It had moreover the disadvantage of competition with a sensational spectacular piece, written expressly to suit the taste of the suburban house, the Theatre an-der-Wien, at which 'Rosamunde' was produced, and which, since the time when Schikaneder induced Mozart to join him in the 'Magic ^[113]Flute,' had a reputation for such extravaganzas. Schubert completed the music in five days.^[114] It consists of an ^[115]Overture in D, since published as 'Alfonso and Estrella,' op. 69; 3 Entr'actes; 2 numbers of ballet music; a little piece for clarinets, horns, and bassoons, called a 'Shepherds' Melody,' of bewitching beauty; a Romance for soprano solo, and 3 Choruses. The Romance (op. 26), the Shepherds' Chorus, the Entr'acte in B♭, and the Air de Ballet in G, are not only very beautiful but very attractive; and the Entr'acte in B minor, of a grand, gloomy, and highly imaginative cast, is one of the finest pieces of music existing. The play was brought out on Dec. 20, 1823; the overture, though the entire orchestral part of the music had only one rehearsal of two hours, was twice redemanded, other numbers were loudly applauded, and Schubert himself was called for at the close; but it only survived one more representation, and then the parts were tied up and forgotten till the year 1867, when they were discovered by two English travellers in Vienna.

Besides the Müllerlieder several independent songs of remarkable beauty belong to 1823. Conspicuous among these are 'Viola' (Schneeglöcklein; op. 123), a long composition full of the most romantic tenderness and delicacy, with all the finish of Meissonnier's pictures, and all his breadth and dignity. Also the 'Zwerg' (op. 22, no. 1), by Matthias von Collin, in which Schubert has immortalised the one brother, as Beethoven, in his overture to 'Coriolan,' did the other. This long, dramatic, and most pathetic ballad, which but few can hear unmoved, was written absolutely à l'improviste, without note or sketch, at the top of his speed, talking all the while to Randhartinger, who was waiting to take him out for a walk.^[116] Equal, if not superior, to these in merit, though of smaller dimensions, are 'Dass sie hier gewesen' (op. 59, no. 2); 'Du bist die Ruh' (do. no. 3); the Barcarolle, 'Auf dem Wasser zu singen' (op. 72), to which no nearer date than '1823' can be given. Below these again, though still fine songs, are 'Der zürnende Barde' (Lf. 9, no. 1; Feb.); 'Drang in die Ferne' (op. 71; Mar. 25); 'Pilgerweise' (Lf. 18, no. 1; April); 'Vergissmeinnicht' (Lf. 21, no. 2; May). The fine Sonata in A minor for PF. solo, published as op. 143, is dated Feb. 1823, and the sketch of a scena for tenor solo and chorus of men's voices with orchestra, dated May 1823. The latter was completed by Herbeck, and published in 1868 by Spina as 'Rüdiger's Heimkehr.'

Ten works (op. 15–24) were published in 1823. The earliest was a collection of dances, viz. 12 Waltzes, 9 Ecossaises, and 17 Ländler, op. 18, published Feb. 5; the PF. Fantasia, op. 15, followed on Feb. 24. The rest are songs, either solo—op. 20, April 10; op. 22, May 27; op. 23, Aug. 4; op. 24, Oct. 7; op. 16, Oct. 9; op. 19, 21 (no dates)—or part-songs, op. 17, Oct. 9. With op. 20, the names of Sauer & Leidesdorf first occur as publishers.

The year 1824 began almost exclusively with instrumental compositions. An Introduction and Variations for PF. and flute (op. 160), on the 'Trockne Blumen' of the 'Schöne Müllerin,' are dated 'January,' and were followed by the famous Octet (op. 166), for clarinet, horn, bassoon, 2 violins, viola, cello, and contrabass, which is marked as begun in February, and finished on March 1. It was written—not, let us hope, without adequate remuneration, though that was probably the last thing of which its author thought—for Count F. Troyer [App. p.786 "Trover"], chief officer of the household to the Archduke Rudolph, Beethoven's patron. In this beautiful composition Schubert indulges his love of extension. It contains, like Beethoven's Septet, 8 movements; but, unlike the Septet, it occupies more than an hour in performance. But though long, no one can call it tedious.^[117] The Count played the clarinet, and must have been delighted with the expressive melody allotted to him in the Andante. The work was performed immediately after its composition, with Schuppanzigh, Weiss, and Linke, three of the famous Rassomofsky quartet, amongst the players. His association with the members of this celebrated party may well have led Schubert to write string-quartets; at any rate he himself tells us that he had written two before the 31st March,^[118] and these are doubtless those in E♭ and E (op. 125), since the only other quartet bearing the date of 1824—that in A minor—has so strong a Hungarian flavour as to point to his visit to Zselész later in the year. How powerfully his thoughts were running at present on orchestral music is evident from the fact that he mentions both octet and quartets as ^[119]studies for 'the Grand Symphony,' which was then his goal, though he did not reach it till eighteen months later.

A bitter disappointment however was awaiting him in the rejection of 'Fierabras,' which, as already mentioned, was returned by Barbaja, ostensibly on account of the badness of its libretto. Two full-sized operas—this and 'Alfonso and Estrella'—to be laid on the shelf without even a rehearsal! Whatever the cause, the blow must have been equally severe to our simple, genuine, composer, who had no doubt been expecting, not without reason, day by day for the last four months, to hear of the acceptance of his work. His picture of himself under this temporary eclipse of hope is mournful in the extreme, though natural enough to the easily depressed temperament of a man of genius. After speaking of himself as 'the most unfortunate, most miserable being on earth,' he goes on to say, 'think of a man whose health can never be restored, and who from sheer despair makes matters worse instead of better. Think, I say, of a man whose brightest hopes have come to nothing, to whom love and friendship are but torture, and whose enthusiasm for the beautiful is fast vanishing; and ask yourself if such a man is not truly unhappy.

My peace is gone, my heart is sore,
Gone for ever and evermore.

This is my daily cry; for every night I go to sleep hoping never again to wake, and every morning only brings back the torment of the day before. Thus joylessly and friendlessly would pass my days, if Schwind did not often look in, and give me a glimpse of the old happy times.… Your brother's opera'—this is a letter to Kupelwieser the painter, and the allusion is to Fierabras—'turns out to be impracticable, and my music is therefore wasted. Castelli's 'Verschworenen' has been set in Berlin by a composer there, and produced with success. Thus I have composed two operas for nothing.' This sad mood, real enough at the moment, was only natural after such repulses. It was assisted, as Schubert's depression always was, by the absence of many of his friends, and also, as he himself confesses, by his acquaintance with Leidesdorf the publisher (in Beethoven's banter 'Dorf des Leides,' a very 'village of sorrow'), whom he describes as a thoroughly good, trust-worthy fellow, 'but so very melancholy that I begin to fear I may have learnt too much from him in that direction.' It must surely have been after an evening with this worthy that he made the touching entries in his journal which have been preserved; e.g. 'Grief sharpens the understanding and strengthens the soul: Joy on the other hand seldom troubles itself about the one, and makes the other effeminate or frivolous.' 'My musical works are the product of my genius and my misery, and what the public most relish is that which has given me the greatest distress.' Fortunately, in men of the genuine composer-temperament, the various moods of mind follow one another rapidly. As soon as they begin to compose the demon flies and heaven opens. That gloomy document called 'Beethoven's Will,' to which even Schubert's most wretched letters must yield the palm, was written at the very time that he was pouring out the gay and healthy strains of his 2nd Symphony. Schubert left town with the Esterhazys in a few weeks after these distressing utterances, and for a time forgot his troubles in the distractions of country life in Hungary. At Zselész he remained for six months, but his life there is almost entirely a blank to us. We can only estimate it by the compositions which are attributable to the period, and by the scanty information conveyed by his letters, which, though fuller of complaint than those of 1818, are even less communicative of facts and occurrences. To this visit is to be ascribed that noble composition known as the 'Grand Duo' (op. 140), though designated by himself as 'Sonata for the PF. for four hands. Zselés, June 1824'; a piece which, though recalling in one movement Beethoven's 2nd, and in another his 7th Symphony, is yet full of the individuality of its author; a symphonic work in every sense of the word, which, through Joachim's instrumentation, has now become an orchestral symphony, and a very fine one. To Zseléz also is due the Sonata in B♭ (op. 30, May or June), the Variations in A♭ (op. 35, 'middle of 1824'), 2 Waltzes (in op. 33, '1824, July'), and 4 Ländler ('July, 1824,' Nott. p. 215)—all for PF. 4 hands; other Waltzes and Ländler in the same collections for 2 hands; and the 'Gebet' of Lamotte Fouqué (op. 139a), signed 'Sept. 1824, at Zelész in Hungary'—all evidently arising from the necessity of providing music for the Count's family circle. The young Countesses were now nineteen and seventeen, and doubtless good performers, as is implied in the duet-form of the pianoforte works. We are probably right in also attributing the lovely String Quartet in A minor (op. 29), and the 4-hand 'Divertissement à la hongroise' (op. 54), to this visit, at any rate to its immediate influence. Both are steeped in the Hungarian spirit, and the Divertissement contains a succession of real national tunes, one of which he heard from the lips of a maidservant as he passed the kitchen with Baron Schönstein in returning from a walk. For the Baron was at Zselész on this as on the last occasion, and frequent and exquisite must have been the performances of the many fine songs which Schubert htiil written in the interval since his former visit.

The circumstances attending the composition of the vocal quartet ('Gebet,' op. 139) just mentioned are told by Kreissle, probably on the authority of Schönstein, and they give a good instance of Schubert's extraordinary facility. At breakfast one morning, in Sept. 1824, the Countess produced Lamotte Fouqué's poem, and proposed to Schubert to set it for the family party. He withdrew after breakfast, taking the book with him, and in the evening, less than ten hours afterwards, it was tried through from the score at the piano. The next evening it was sung again, this time from separate parts, which Schubert had written out during the day. The piece is composed for quartet, with solos for Mad. Esterhazy, Marie, Schönstein, and the Count, and contains 209 bars. A MS. letter of Ferdinand's,^[120] dated July 3, full of that strong half-reverential affection which was Ferdinand's habitual attitude towards his gifted brother, and of curious details, mentions having sent him Bach's fugues (never-cloying food of great composers), and an opera-book, 'Der kurze Mantel.' Strange fascination of the stage, which thus, in despite of so many failures, could keep him still enthralled!

The country air of the Hungarian mountains, and no doubt the sound and healthy living and early hours of the chateau, restored Schubert's health completely, and in a letter of Sept. 21 to Schober he says that for five months he had been well. But he felt his isolation, and the want of congenial Vienna society keenly; speaks with regret of having been 'enticed' into a second visit to Hungary, and complains of not having a single person near to whom he could say a sensible word. How different from the exuberant happiness of the visits to Steyr and St. Polten, when every one he met was a demonstrative admirer, and every evening brought a fresh triumph!

Now, if ever, was the date of his tender feeling for his pupil Caroline Esterhazy, which his biographers have probably much exaggerated. She was seventeen at the time, and Bauernfeld represents her as the object of an ideal devotion, which soothed, comforted, and inspirited Schubert to the end of his life. Ideal it can only have been, considering the etiquette of the time, and the wide distance between the stations of the two; and the only occasion on which Schubert is ever alleged to have approached anything like a revelation of his feelings, is that told by Kreissle—on what authority he does not say, and it is hard to conceive—when on her jokingly reproaching him for not having dedicated anything to her, he replied, 'Why should I? everything I ever did is dedicated to you.' True, the fine Fantasia in F minor, published in the March following his death as op. 103, is dedicated to her 'by Franz Schubert,' a step which the publishers would hardly have ventured upon unless the MS.—probably handed to them before his death—had been so inscribed by himself. But it is difficult to reconcile the complaints of isolation and neglect already quoted from his letter to Schober with the existence of a passion which must have been fed every time he met his pupil or sat down to the piano with her. We must be content to leave each reader to decide the question for himself.

Vocal composition he laid aside almost entirely in 1824. The only songs which we can ascertain to belong to it are four—the fine though gloomy ones called 'Auflösung' (Lf. 34, no. i), and 'Abendstern' (Lf. 22, no. 4), both by Mayrhofer; another evening song, 'Im Abendroth,' by Lappe (Lf. 20, no. 1), all three in March; and the bass song, 'Lied eines Krieger's' (Lf. 20, no. 2), with which he closed the last^[121] day of the year. Of part-songs there are two, both for men's voices; one a 'Salve regina,' written in April, before leaving town; and the other, the 'Gondelfahrer,' or Gondolier, a very fine and picturesque composition, of which Lablache is said to have been fond [App. p.786 "so fond as to have encored it on first hearing, and himself sung in the encore (Spaun)"].—A Sonata for PF. and Arpeggione, in A minor, dated Nov. 1824, was probably one of his first compositions after returning to town.^[122]

The publications of 1824 embrace ops. 25 to 28 inclusive, all issued by Sauer & Leidesdorf. Op. 25 is the 'Schöne Müllerin,' 20 songs in five numbers, published March 25; op. 26 is the vocal music in 'Rosamunde,'^[123] the romance and three choruses; op. 27, three fine 'heroic marches,' for PF. 4 hands; op. 28, 'Der Gondelfahrer,' for four men's voices and PF., Aug. 12.

1825 was a happy year to our hero—happy and productive. He was back again in his dear Vienna, and exchanged the isolation of Zselész for the old familiar life, with his congenial friends Vogl, Schwind, Jenger, Mayrhofer, etc. (Schober was in Prussia, and Kupelwieser still at Rome), in whose applause and sympathy and genial conviviality he rapidly forgot the disappointments and depression that had troubled him in the autumn. Sofie Müller, one of the great actresses of that day, evidently a very accomplished, cultivated woman, was then in Vienna, and during February and March her house was the resort of Schubert, Jenger, and Vogl, who sang or listened to her singing of his best and newest Lieder,—she herself sang the 'Junge Nonne' at sight on March 3—and lived a pleasant and thoroughly artistic life.^[124] Others, which she mentions as new, and which indeed had their birth at this time, are Der Einsame,' and 'Ihr Grab.' The 'new songs from the Pirate,' which she heard on March 1, may have been some from the Lady of the Lake, or 'Norna's song,' or even 'Anna Lyle,' usually placed two years later. Schubert published some important works early in this year, the Overture in for 4 hands (op. 34); also the Sonata in B♭ (op. 30), and the Variations in A♭ (op. 35), both for 4 hands; and the String Quartet in A minor (op. 29)—fruits of his sojourn in Hungary. The last of these, the only quartet he was destined to publish during his life, is dedicated 'to his friend I. Schuppanzigh,' a pleasant memorial of the acquaintance cemented by the performance of the octet, a twelvemonth before. And as on such publications some amount of money passes from the publisher to the composer, this fact of itself would contribute to enliven and inspirit him. In addition to these instrumental works some noble songs were issued in the early part of 1825—'Der zürnenden Diana,' and the 'Nachtstück,' of Mayrhofer; 'Der Pilgrim' and 'Der Alpenjager,' of Schiller; and Zuleika's second song. The two beautiful solo sonatas in A minor and in C—the latter of which he never succeeded in completely writing out, but the fragment of which is of first-rate quality—also date from this time.

As if to revenge himself for his sufferings at the Esterhazys', he planned an extensive tour for this summer, in his favourite district, and in the company of his favourite friend. Vogl on March 31 started for his home at Steyr. Schubert ^[125]soon followed him, and the next five months, to the end of October, were passed in a delightful mixture of music, friends, fine scenery, lovely weather, and absolute ease and comfort, in Upper Austria and the Salzkammergut, partly amongst the good people who had welcomed him so warmly in 1819, partly among new friends and new enthusiasm. Taking Steyr as their point d'appui they made excursions to Linz, Steyreck, Gmunden, Salzburg, and even as far as Gastein, etc., heartily enjoying the glorious scenery by day, received everywhere on arrival with open arms, and making the best possible impression with their joint performances. The songs from 'The Lady of the Lake,' were either composed before starting or on the road. At any rate they formed the chief programme during the excursion. If the whole seven were sung or not is ^[126]uncertain; but Schubert particularly mentions the 'Ave Maria,' à propos to which he makes an interesting revelation. 'My new songs,' says he, 'from Walter Scott's Lady of the Lake, have been very successful. People were greatly astonished at the devotion which I have thrown into the Hymn to the Blessed Virgin, and it seems to have seized and impressed everybody. I think that the reason of this is that I never force myself into devotion, or compose hymns or prayers unless I am really overpowered by the feeling; that alone is real, true devotion.' It is during this journey, at Salzburg, that he makes the remark, already noticed, as to the performance of Vogl and himself. At Salzburg too.it was the 'Ave Maria' that so rivetted his hearers. 'We produced our seven pieces before a select circle, and all were much impressed, especially by the Ave Maria, which I mentioned in my former letter. The way in which Vogl sings and I accompany, so that for the moment we seem to be one, is something quite new and unexpected to these good people.' Schubert sometimes performed alone. He had brought some variations and marches for 4 hands with him, and finding a good player at the convents of Florian and Kremsmünster, had made a great effect with them. But he was especially successful with the lovely variations from the solo Sonata in A minor (op. 42); and here again he lets us into his secret. 'There I played alone, and not without success, for I was assured that the keys under my hands sang like voices, which if true makes me very glad, because I cannot abide that accursed thumping, which even eminent players adopt, but which delights neither my ears nor my judgment.' He found his compositions well known throughout Upper Austria. The gentry fought for the honour of receiving him, and to this day old people are found to talk with equal enthusiasm of his lovely music, and of the unaffected gaiety and simplicity of his ways and manners.

The main feature of the tour was the excursion to Gastein in the mountains of East Tyrol. To Schubert this was new ground, and the delight in the scenery which animates his description is obvious. They reached it about Aug. 18, and appear to have remained three or four weeks, returning to Gmunden about Sept. 10. At Gastein, among other good people, he found hia old ally Ladislaus Pyrker, Patriarch of Venice, and composed two songs to his poetry, 'Heimweh' and 'Allmacht' (op. 79). But the great work of this date was the 'Grand Symphony' which had been before him for so long. We found him 18 months ago writing quartets and the octet as preparation for it, and an allusion in a letter^[127] of Schwind's shows that at the beginning of August he spoke of the thing as virtually done. That it was actually put on to paper at Gastein at this date we know from the testimony of ^[128]Bauernfeld, who also informs us that it was a special favourite with its composer. Seven songs in all are dated in this autumn, amongst them two fine scenes from a play by W. von Schütz called 'Lacrimas' (op. 124), not so well known as they deserve.

The letters of this tour, though not all preserved, are unusually numerous for one who so much disliked writing. One long one to his father and mother; another, much longer, to Ferdinand; a third to Spaun, and a fourth to Bauernfeld, are printed by Kreissle, and contain passages of real interest, showing how keenly he observed and how thoroughly he enjoyed nature, and displaying throughout a vein of good sense and even ^[129]practical sagacity, and a facility of expression, which are rare in him.

At length the summer and the money came to an end, Vogl went off to Italy for his gout, and Schubert, meeting Gahy at Linz, returned with him and the MS. Symphony to Vienna in an Einspänner, to find Schober and Kupelwieser both once more settled there. The first thing to be done was to replenish his purse, and this he soon did by the sale of the seven songs from 'The Lady of the Lake,' which he disposed of on Oct. 29 to Artaria, for 200 silver gulden—just £20! Twenty pounds however were a mine of wealth to Schubert; and even after repaying the money which had been advanced by his father, and by Bauernfeld for the rent of the lodgings during his absence, he would still have a few pounds in hand.

During Schubert's absence in the country his old friend Salieri died, and was succeeded by Eybler. The Court organist also fell ill, and Schwind wrote urging him to look after the post; but Schubert makes no sign, and evidently did nothing in the matter, though the organist died on Nov. 19. He obviously knew much better than his friends that he was absolutely unfit for any post requiring punctuality or restraint. In the course of this year he was made 'Ersatzmann,' or substitute—whatever that may mean—by the Musik-Verein, or Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Of what happened from this time till the close of 1825 we have no certain information. He set two songs by Schulze (Lf. 13, nos. 1, 2) in December; and it is probable that the Piano Sonata in D (op. 53), and the noble funeral march for the Emperor of Russia (op. 55), whose death was known in Vienna on Dec. 14, both belong to that month. What gave him his interest in the death of Alexander is not known, but the march is an extraordinarily fine specimen. A piece for the Piano in F, serving as accompaniment to a recitation from a poem by Pratobevera, a series of graceful modulations in arpeggio form, also dates from this year.^[130]

The compositions of 1825 may be here summed up:—Sonata for PF. solo in A minor (op. 42); ditto in D (op. 53); ditto in A (op. 120); unfinished ditto in C ('Reliquie,' Nott. p. 211); a funeral march, 4 hands, for the Emperor Alexander of Russia (op. 55). Songs—'Des Sängers Habe,' by Schlechta, and 'Im Walde,' by E. Schulze; 7 from 'The Lady of the Lake' (op. 52); another from ^[131]Scott's 'Pirate'; 'Auf der Brücke,' by Schulze; 'Fülle der Liebe,' by Schlegel; 'Allmacht' and 'Heimweh,' by Pyrker; two scenes from 'Lacrimas,' by W. von Schütz; and 'Abendlied für die Entfernte,' by A. W. Schlegel; 'Die junge Nonne,' 'Todtengräbers Heimweh,' and 'Der blinde Knabe,' all by Craigher; 'Der Einsame,' by Lappe; and, in December, 'An mein Herz' and 'Der liebliche Stern,' both by Ernst Schulze. It is also more than probable that the String-quartet in D minor was at least begun before the end of the year.

The publications of 1825 are:—In January, ops. 32, 30, 34; Feb. 11, ops. 36 and 37; May 9, op. 38; July 25, op. 43; Aug. 12, op. 31; and, without note of date, ops. 29 and 33. Op. 29 is the lovely A minor Quartet; and it is worthy of note that it is published as the first of 'Trois quatuors.' This was never carried out. The two others were written, as we have already seen (p. 340a), but they remained unpublished till after the death of their author.

1826 was hardly eventful in any sense of the word, though by no means unimportant in Schubert's history. It seems to have been passed entirely in Vienna. He contemplated a trip to Linz with Spaun and Schwind, but it did not come off. The weather of this spring was extraordinarily bad, and during April and May he composed nothing.^[132] The music attributable to 1826 is, however, of first-rate quality. The String Quartet in D minor, by common consent placed at the head of Schubert's music of this class, was first played on Jan. 29, and was therefore doubtless only just completed.^[133] That in G (op. 161), Schubert himself has dated as being written in ten days (June 20 to June 30), a work teeming with fresh vigour after the inaction of the preceding two months, as full of melody, spirit, romance, variety, and individuality, as anything he ever^[134] penned, and only prevented from taking the same high position as the preceding, by its great length—due to the diffuseness which Schubert would no doubt have remedied had he given himself time to do so. One little point may be mentioned en passant in both these noble works—the evidence they afford of his lingering fondness for the past. In the D minor Quartet he goes back for the subject and feeling of the Andante to a song of his own of 1816, and the Finale of the G major is curiously tinged with reminiscences of the Rossini-fever of 1819.

The 'Rondeau brillant' in B minor for PF. and violin (op. 70), now such a favourite in the concert-room, also belongs to this year, though it cannot be precisely dated; and so does a piece of still higher quality, which is pronounced by Schumann to be its author's 'most perfect work both in form and conception,' the Sonata in G major for PF. solo, op. 78, usually called the 'Fantasia,' owing to a freak of the publisher's. The autograph is inscribed, in the hand of its author, 'IV. Sonate für Pianoforte allein. Oct. 1826, Franz Schubert'; above which, in the writing of Tobias Haslinger, stands the title 'Fantasie, Andante, Menuetto und Allegretto.' We may well say with Beethoven, 'O Tobias!' [App. p.786 "See an interesting letter from Ernst Perabo, the present owner of the MS., with extract from the Andante, in the 'M. Musical Record,' April, 1888."]

By the side of these undying productions the 'Marche héroique,' written to celebrate the accession of Nicholas I. of Russia, and the Andantino and Rondo on French motifs—both for PF. 4 hands, are not of great significance.

An attack of song-writing seems to have come upon him in March, which date we find attached to six songs; or, if the rest of those to Seidl's words forming ops. 105 and 80, and marked merely '1826,' were written at the same time (as, from Schubert's habit of eviscerating his books, they not improbably were)—twelve. Three Shakspeare songs are due to this July—'Hark! hark! the lark,'^[135] from 'Cymbeline'; 'Who is Sylvia?' from the 'Two Gentlemen of Verona'; and the Drinking-song in 'Antony and Cleopatra'—the first two perhaps as popular as any single songs of Schubert's. The circumstances of the composition, or rather creation, of the first of these has already been mentioned (p. 327a). The fact of three songs from the same volume belonging to one month (not improbably to one day, if we only knew) is quite à la Schubert.—A beautiful and most characteristic piece of this year is the 'Nachthelle' (or Lovely night), written to words of Seidl's—not improbably for the Musikverein, through Anna Fröhlich—for tenor solo, with accompaniment of 4 men's voices and pianoforte, which would be a treasure to singing societies, for its truly romantic loveliness, but for the inordinate height to which the voices are taken, and the great difficulty of executing it with sufficient delicacy. A song called 'Echo' (op. 130), probably written in 1826, was intended to be the first of six 'humorous songs' for Weigl's firm.^[136]

We hear nothing of the new Symphony during the early part of this year. No doubt it was often played from the MS. score at the meetings of the Schubert set, but they say no more about it than they do of the Octet, or Quartets, or Sonatas, which were all equally in existence; and for aught we know it might have been 'locked in a drawer,' which was often Schubert's custom after completing a work—'locked in a drawer and never thought about again.'^[137] It was however destined to a different fate. On the 9th Sept. 1826, at one of the first meetings of the Board of the Musik Verein after the summer recess, Hofrath Kiesewetter reports that Schubert desires to dedicate a symphony to the Society; upon which the sum of 100 silver florins (£10) is voted to him, not in payment for the work, but as a token of sympathy, and as an encouragement. The letter conveying the money is dated the 12th, and on or even before its receipt Schubert brought the manuscript and deposited it with the Society. His letter accompanying it may here be quoted:—

To the Committee of the Austrian Musical Society.—Convinced of the noble desire of the Society to give its best support to every effort in the cause of art, I venture, as a native artist, to dedicate this my Symphony to the Society, and most respectfully to recommend myself to its protection. With the highest esteem, Your obedt.

Franz Schubert.

In accordance with this, the MS. probably bears his formal dedication to the Verein, and we may expect to find that though so long talked of, it bears marks of having been written down as rapidly as most of his other productions.^[138] At present however all trace of it is gone; not even its key is known. There is no entry of it in the catalogue of the Society's Library, and except for the minute and letter given above, and the positive statements of Bauernfeld quoted below^[139] it might as well be non-existent. That it is an entirely distinct work from that in C, written 2½ years later, can hardly admit of a doubt.

Of the publications of 1826, the most remarkable are the seven songs from 'The Lady of the Lake,' for which Artaria had paid him 200 florins in the preceding October, and which appeared on the 5th of this April, in two parts, as op. 52. They were succeeded immediately, on April 8, by the PF. Sonata in D (op. 53), and the 'Divertissement à la hongroise' (op. 54), both issued by the same firm. For these two splendid works Schubert received from the penurious Artaria only 300 Vienna florins, equal to £12. Songs issued fast from the press at this date; for on the 6th of April we find op. 56 (3 songs) announced by Pennauer, and ops. 57 and 58 (each 3 songs) by Weigl; on June 10, op. 60 ('Greisengesang' and 'Dithyrambe') by Cappi and Czerny; in Sept. op. 59 (4 songs, including 'Dass sie hier gewesen,' 'Du bist die Ruh,' and 'Lachen und Weinen') by Leidesdorf; and op. 64 (3 part-songs for men's voices) by Pennauer; and on Nov. 24, op. 65 (3 songs) by Cappi and Czerny. Some of these were composed as early as 1814, 15, 16; others again in 1820, 22, and 23. The Mass in C (op. 48), and three early pieces of church music, 'Tantum ergo' (op. 45), 'Totus in corde' (op. 46), and 'Salve Regina' (op. 47), were all issued in this year by Diabelli. Of dances and marches for piano there are 8 numbers:—a Galop and 8 Ecossaises (op. 49); 34 Valses sentimentales (op. 50); 'Hommage aux belles Viennoises' (16 Ländler and 2 Ecossaises, op. 67); 3 Marches (4 hands, op. 51)—all published by Diabelli; the 2 Russian Marches (op. 55, 56), by Pennauer; 6 Polonaises (op. 61), Cappi and Czerny; and a Divertissement, or 'Marche brillante et raisonnée,' on French motifs (op. 63), Weigl. In all, 22 publications, divided between 6 publishers, and containing 106 works.

We have been thus particular to name the numbers and publishers of these works, because they show conclusively how much Schubert's music was coming into demand. Pennauer and Leidesdorf were his personal friends, and may possibly have printed his pieces from chivalrous motives; but no one can suspect hard and experienced men of business like Diabelli and Artaria of publishing the music of any one at their own risk unless they believed that there was a demand for it. The list is a remarkable one, and will compare for extent and variety with that of most years of Beethoven's life. And even at the incredibly low^[140] prices which his publishers gave for the exclusive copyright of his works, there is enough in the above to produce an income sufficient for Schubert's wants. But the fact is that he was mixed up with a set of young fellows who regarded him as a Crœsus,^[141] and who virtually lived upon his carelessness and good-nature, under the guise of keeping house in common. Bauernfeld, in an article in the Vienna 'Presse' of April 17, 1869, has given us the account with some naïveté. A league or partnership was made between himself, Schwind the painter, and Schubert. They had nominally their own lodgings, but often slept all together in the room of one. The affection between them was extraordinary. Schubert used to call Schwind 'seine Geliebte' his innamorata! A kind of common property was established in clothes and money; hats, coats, boots, and cravats were worn in common, and the one who was in cash paid the score of the others. As Schwind and Bauernfeld were considerably younger than Schubert, that duty naturally fell on him. When he had sold a piece of music he seemed to this happy trio to 'swim in money,' which was then spent 'right and left' in the most reckless manner, till it was all gone, and the period of reverse came. Under these circumstances life was a series of fluctuations, in which the party were never rich, and often very poor. On one occasion Bauernfeld and Schubert met in a coffee-house near the Kärnthnerthor theatre, and each detected the other in ordering a mélange (café au lait) and biscuits, because neither had the money to pay for dinner. And this in Schubert's 29th year, when he had already written immortal works quite sufficient to make a good livelihood! Outside the circle of this trio were a number of other young people, artists and literary men, Schober, Jenger, Kupelwieser, etc., attracted by Schubert's genius, good-nature, and love of fun, and all more or less profiting by the generosity of one who never knew what it was to deny a friend. The evenings of this jolly company were usually passed in the Gasthaus, and then they would wander about, till daybreak drove them to their several quarters, or to the room of one of the party. It would be absurd to judge Vienna manners from an English point of view. The Gasthaus took the place of a modern club, and the drink consumed probably did not much exceed that which some distinguished Vienna artists now imbibe night after night, and does not imply the excess that it would infallibly lead to in a Northern climate; but it must be obvious that few constitutions could stand such racket, and that the exertion of thus trying his strength by night and his brain by day, must have been more than any frame could stand. In fact his health did not stand the wear and tear. We have seen that in Feb. 1823 he could not leave the house; that in the summer of the same year he was confined to the hospital; that in March 1824 he speaks of his health as irrecoverably gone; and the dedication of the six 4-hand Marches, op. 40, to his friend Bernhardt, doctor of medicine, 'as a token of gratitude,' is strong evidence that in 1826, the year of their publication, he had had another severe attack.

It was probably a sense of the precarious nature of such a life that led some of his friends in the autumn of 1826 to urge Schubert to stand for the post of Vice-capellmeister in the Imperial Court, vacant by the promotion of Eybler to that of principal capellmeister; but the application, like every other of the same kind made by him, was a failure, and the place was given to Joseph Weigl by the Imperial decree of Jan. 27, 1827.

Another opportunity of acquiring a fixed income was opened to him during the same autumn, by the removal of Karl August Krebs^[142] from the conductorship of the Court theatre to Hamburg. Vogl interested Duport, the administrator of the theatre, in his friend, and the appointment was made to depend on Schubert's success in composing some scenes for the stage. Madame Schechner, for whom the principal part was intended, and whose voice at that time was on the wane, at the pianoforte rehearsals objected to some passages in her air, but could not induce the composer to alter them. The same thing happened at the first orchestral rehearsal, when it also became evident that the accompaniments were too noisy for the voice. Still Schubert was immovable. At the full-band rehearsal Schechner fairly broke down, and refused to sing any more. Duport then stept forward, and formally requested Schubert to alter the music before the next meeting. This he refused to do; but taking the same course as Beethoven had done on a similar occasion, said loudly, 'I will alter nothing,' took up his score and left the house. After this the question of the conductorship was at an end. Schubert's behaviour in this matter has been strongly censured, but we do not see much in it. Such questions will always depend on the temperament of the composer. Had it been either Mozart or Mendelssohn we cannot doubt that all would have gone smoothly; the prima donna would not only not have been ruffled, but would have felt herself complimented, and the music would have been so altered as to meet every one's wish, and yet sound as well as before. On the other hand, had it been Beethoven or Schumann we may be equally sure that not a note would have been changed, and that everything would have ended in confusion. With all Schubert's good-nature, when his music was concerned he was of the same mind as Beethoven and Schumann. There are other instances of the same stubbornness, which will be noticed later.

Some set-off to these disappointments was afforded by the ready way in which his Gastein Symphony was received by the Musik-Verein, and the sympathetic resolution and prompt donation which accompanied its acceptance, although no attempt to perform or even rehearse it can now be traced. The beautiful 'Nachthelle,' already referred to, which he composed in September, was rehearsed during the early winter months, and performed by the Society on Jan. 25, 1827.

Some little gratification also he not improbably derived from the letters which during this year he began to receive from publishers in the north. Probst of Leipzig—one of Beethoven's publishers, predecessor of the present firm of Senff—was the first to write. His letter is dated Aug. 26, and is followed by one from Breitkopf & Härtel of Sept. 7. True, neither are very encouraging. Probst speaks of his music as too often 'peculiar and odd,' and 'not intelligible or satisfactory to the public'; and begs him to write so as to be easily understood; while Breitkopf stipulates that the only remuneration at first shall be some copies of the works. Still, even with this poor present result, the fact was obvious that he had begun to attract attention outside of Austria.

As to Schubert's life in the early part of 1827 we have little to guide us beyond the scanty inferences to be drawn from the dated compositions. The first of these of any moment are 8 Variations (the 8th very much extended) on a theme in Herold's opera 'Marie,' for PF. 4 hands (op. 82). 'Marie' was produced on the Vienna boards Jan. 18, 1827; and Schubert's Variations are dated 'February,' and are dedicated to one of his friends in Upper Austria, Prof. Cajetan Neuhaus of Linz. The next and still more important work is the first half of the 'Winterreise,' 12 songs ('Gute Nacht' to 'Einsamkeit'), marked as begun in Feb. 1827. Franz Lachner remembers that 'half a dozen' of them were written in one morning, and that Diabelli [App. p.786 "Haslinger"] gave a gulden (that is a franc) apiece for them. The poems which form the basis of this work are by Wilhelm Müller, the poet of the 'Schöne Müllerin,' which the Winterreise closely approaches in popularity, and which it would probably equal if the maiden of the Winter-walk were as definite a creation as the miller's daughter is. They are 24 in ^[143]all, and appear under their now immortal name in the 2nd volume of the work of which vol. i. contained the 'Schöne Müllerin,' and which has the quaint title already quoted (p. 338b). The 2nd vol. was published at Dessau in 1824, and did not at once attract Schubert's notice. When it did, he made short work of it. Another important composition of this month (dated Feb 28) is the Schlachtlied (battle-song) of Klopstock, set for 2 choirs of male voices, sometimes answering, sometimes in 8 real parts, of immense force and vigour, and marked by that dogged adherence to rhythm so characteristic of Schubert.

He can scarcely have finished with this before the news that Beethoven was in danger spread through Vienna. The great musician got back to his rooms in the Schwarzspanierhaus from his fatal expedition to Gneixendorf in the first week of December, became very ill, and during January was tapped for the dropsy three times. Then Malfatti was called in, and there was a slight improvement. During this he was allowed to read, and it was then that Schindler, a zealous Schubert propagandist, took the opportunity to put some of Schubert's songs into his hands.^[144] He made a selection of about 60, in print and MS., including 'Iphigenie,' 'Grenzen der Menschheit,' 'Allmacht,' 'Die junge^[145] Nonne,' 'Viola,' the 'Müllerlieder,' etc. Beethoven up to this time probably did not know half a dozen of Schubert's compositions, and his astonishment was extreme, especially when he heard that there existed at least 500 of the same kind. 'How can he find time, said he, to set such long poems, many of them containing ten others?' i.e. as long as ten separate ones; and said over and over again, 'If I had had this poem I would have set it myself'; 'Truly Schubert has the divine fire in him.' He pored over them for days, and asked to see Schubert's operas and PF. pieces, but the illness returned and it was too late. But from this time till his death he spoke often of Schubert, regretting that he had not sooner known his worth, and prophesying that he would make much stir in the world.^[146] Schubert was sure to hear of these gratifying utterances, and they would naturally increase his desire to come into close contact with the master whom he had long worshipped at a distance. It is possible that this emboldened him to visit the dying man. He seems to have gone twice; first with Anselm Hüttenbrenner and Schindler. Schindler told Beethoven that they were there, and asked who he would see first. 'Schubert may come in first' was the answer. At this visit perhaps, if ever,^[147] it was, that he said, in his affectionate way, 'You, Anselm, have my mind (Geist), but Franz has my soul (Seele).' The second time he went with Josef Hüttenbrenner and Teltscher the painter. They stood round the bed. Beethoven was aware of their presence, and fixing his eyes on them, made some signs with his hand. No one however could explain what was meant, and no words passed on either side. Schubert left the room overcome with emotion. In about three weeks came the end, and then the funeral. Schubert was one of the torch-bearers. Franz Lachner and Randhartinger walked with him to and from the Cemetery. The way back lay by the Himmelpfortgrund, and close by the humble house in which he had drawn his first breath. They walked on into the town, and stopped at the 'Mehlgrube,' a tavern in the Kärnthnerthorstrasse, now the Hotel Munsch. There they called for wine, and Schubert drank off two glasses, one to the memory of Beethoven, the other to the first of the three friends who should follow him. It was destined to be himself.

Lablache was also one of the torch-bearers at the funeral. This and the part which he took in the Requiem for Beethoven [ vol. i. 201a ] may have induced Schubert to write for him the '3 Italian Songs for a Bass voice,' which form op. 83, and are dedicated to the great Italian basso.

Hummel and Hiller were in Vienna during March 1827, and Hiller describes meeting Schubert and Vogl at Madame Lacsny-Buchwieser's, and his astonishment at their joint performance. 'Schubert,' says ^[148]Hiller, 'had little technique, and Vogl but little voice; but they had both so much life and feeling, and went so thoroughly into the thing, that it would be impossible to render these wonderful compositions more clearly and more splendidly. Voice and piano became as nothing; the music seemed to want no material help, but the melodies appealed to the ear as a vision does to the eye.' Not only did the boy think it the deepest musical impression he had ever received, but the tears coursed down the cheeks even of the veteran Hummel. Either then or a few evenings afterwards, Hummel showed his appreciation by extemporising on Schubert's 'Blinde Knabe,' which Vogl had just sung—to Franz's delight.

In April Schubert wrote the beautiful 'Nachtgesang im Walde' (op. 1396) for 4 men's voices and 4 horns; and a 'Spring Song,' also for men's voices, still in MS. In July we have the very fine and characteristic serenade 'Zögernd leise' (op. 135) for alto solo and female voices, a worthy pendant to the 'Nachthelle,' and written almost à l'improviste.^[149] A fête was to be held for the birthday of a young lady of Döbling. Grillparzer had written some verses for the occasion, and Schubert, who was constantly in and out of the Fröhlichs' house, was asked by Anna to set them for her sister Josephine and her pupils. He took the lines, went aside into the window, pushed up his spectacles on to his brow, and then, with the paper close to his face, read them carefully twice through. It was enough: 'I have it, said he, it's done, and will go famously.' A day or two afterwards he brought the score, but he had employed a male chorus instead of a female one, and had to take it away and transpose it. It was sung in the garden by moonlight, to the delight of every one, the villagers thronging round the gate. He alone was absent.

1827 witnessed another attempt at an opera—the 'Graf von Gleichen,' written by Bauernfeld, apparently in concurrence^[150] with Mayrhofer. Schubert had the libretto in August, 1826, submitted it to the management of the Royal Opera-house, and arranged with Grillparzer, in case the Censure should cause its rejection, to have it accepted by the Königstadt Theatre. Owing possibly to the delay of the Censure it was nearly a year before he could begin the composition. The MS. sketch, now in Herr Dumba's collection, is dated at the beginning '17 Juni 1827.' The opera is sketched throughout, and he played portions of it to Bauernfeld. Forty years later the sketch came into the hands of Herbeck, and he began to score it after Schubert's indications—of which there are plenty—but was prevented by death.

A correspondence had been going on for long between the Schubert circle at Vienna and the Pachler family in Gratz, the capital of Styria, as to an expedition thither by Schubert, and at length it was arranged for the autumn of this year. Carl Pachler was one of those cultivated men of business who are such an honour to Germany; an advocate, and at the head of his profession, yet not ashamed to be an enthusiastic lover of music and musicians, and proud to have them at his house and to admit them to his intimate friendship. Amongst his circle was Anselm Hüttenbrenner, the brother of Schubert's friend Josef, himself an earnest admirer of Franz, whose last visit to Vienna had been to close the eyes of his old friend Beethoven. The house was open to painters, singers, actors, and poets, 'the scene of constant hospitalities, the headquarters of every remarkable person visiting Gratz.' Such was the family whose one desire was to receive Schubert and Jenger. The journey, now accomplished in 5½ hours, was an affair of two days and a night, even in the fast coach. They left on Sunday morning, Sept. 2, and reached Gratz on Monday night. The next three weeks were spent in the way which Schubert most enjoyed, excursions and picnics by day through a beautiful country, and at night incessant music; good eating and drinking, clever men and pretty women, no fuss, a little romping, a good piano, a sympathetic audience, and no notice taken of him—such were the elements of his enjoyment. The music was made mostly by themselves, Schubert singing, accompanying, and playing duets with Jenger, and extemporising endless dance tunes. He does not appear to have composed anything of great moment during the visit. A galop and twelve waltzes, published under the titles of the 'Grätzer Waltzer' (op. 91) and the 'Grätzer^[151] Galoppe'; 3 songs (op. 106, 1, 2, 3—the last a particularly fine one) to words by local poets—and the 'Old Scottish ballad' by Herder (op. 165, no. 5), were probably all that he penned during this festive fortnight; unless perhaps some of those exquisite little pieces published in 1828 and 1838 as 'Impromptus' and 'Momens musicals' are the result of this time. Two songs, written a couple of years before, 'Im Walde,' and 'Auf der Brücke,' of the purest Schubert, proved, and justly proved, such favourites that he had them lithographed and published in the place.^[152] The visit is further perpetuated by the titles of the dances just mentioned, and by the dedication to Mad. Pachler of op. 106, a collection of four songs, the three already named, and the lovely 'Sylvia.' Schubert seems to have had this set of songs lithographed without name of place or publisher, shortly after his return, on purpose for his hostess.^[153]

The journey home was a triumphal progress, and by the 27th they were back in Vienna. Schubert then wrote the second part of the 'Winterreise' (nos. 13–24), completing that immortal work. The shadows lie much darker on the second than on the first part, and the 'Wegweiser,' 'Das Wirthshaus,' 'Die Krahe,' 'Die Nebensonnen,' and 'Der Leiermann,' are unsurpassed for melancholy among all the songs. Even in the extraordinary and picturesque energy of 'Die Post' there is a deep vein of sadness. Schubert here only followed faithfully, as he always does, the character of the words.

On October 12 he wrote a little 4-hand march as a souvenir for Faust Pachler, the son of his host, a trifle interesting only from the circumstances of its composition. In the same month he composed his first PF. trio, in B♭ (op. 99), and in November the second, in E♭ (op. 100). They were both written for Booklet, Schuppanzigh, and Lincke, and were first heard in public, the one early in January, the other on March 26, 1828. The year was closed with an Italian cantata, dated Dec. 26, 'alla bella Irene,' in honour of Miss Kiesewetter (afterwards Mad. Prokesch v. Osten), the daughter of his friend the Hofrath, sponsor to the Gastein Symphony (p. 344a). It is still in MS., and is probably more interesting for its accompaniment for two pianos than for anything else.

The communications with Probst of Leipzig went on. There is a letter from him dated Jan. 15, and he himself paid a visit to Vienna later in the season, and made Schubert's^[154] personal acquaintance, but the negotiations were not destined to bear fruit till next year. But a proof that Schubert was making his mark in North Germany is afforded by a letter from Rochlitz, the critic—editor of the Leipzig Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, and a great personage in the musical world of Saxony—dated Nov. 7, 1827, proposing that Schubert should compose a poem by him, called 'Der erste Ton,' or 'The first Sound,' a poem which Weber had already set without success, and which Beethoven had refused. Rochlitz's letter was probably inspired by the receipt of three of his songs set by Schubert as op. 81, and published on May 27. The proposition however came to nothing.

Coincident with these communications from abroad came a gratifying proof of the improvement in his position at home, in his election as a member of the representative body of the Musical Society of Vienna. The date of election is not mentioned; but Schubert's reply, as given by Herr Pohl,^[155] is dated Vienna, June 12, 1827, and runs as follows:—

The Managing Committee of the Society of Friends of Music of the Austrian Empire having thought me worthy of election as a Member of the Representative Body of that excellent Society, I beg herewith to state that I feel myself greatly honoured by their choice, and that I undertake the duties of the position with much satisfaction.

Franz Schubert, Compositeur.

We have mentioned the more important compositions of 1827. There remain to be named two songs by Schober (op. 96, no. 2; Lf. 24, no. 1), and one by Reil (op. 115, no. 1); a comic trio, 'Die Hochzeitsbraten' (op. 104), also by Schober; and an Allegretto in C minor for PF. solo, written for his friend Walcher, 'in remembrance of April 26, 1827,' and not published till 1870.

The publications of 1827 are as follow:—the Overture to 'Alfonso and Estrella' (op. 69); Rondeau brillant, for PF. and violin (op. 70); songs—'Der Wachtelschlag' (op. 68, March 2), 'Drang in die Ferne' (op. 71, Feb.), 'Auf dem Wasser zu singen' (op. 72, Feb.), 'Die Rose' (op. 73, May 10)—all four songs previously published in the Vienna Zeitschrift für Kunst; four Polonaises, for PF. 4 hands (op. 75); Overture to 'Fierabras,' for PF. 4 hands, arranged by Czerny (op. 76); 12 'Valses Nobles,' for PF. solo (op. 77, Jan.); Fantasie, etc. for PF. in G (op. 78); 2 songs, 'Das Heimweh,' 'Die Allmacht' (op. 79, 'May 16'); 3 songs (op. 80, May 25); 3 ditto (op. 81, May 28); Variations on theme of Herold's (op. 82, Dec.); 3 Italian songs (op. 83, Sept. 12); 4 songs (op. 88, Dec. 12).

We have now arrived at Schubert's last year, 1828. It would be wrong to suppose that he had any presentiment of his end; though, if a passion for work, an eager use of the 'day,' were any sign that the 'night' was coming 'in which no man could work,' we might almost be justified in doing so. We hear of his suffering from blood to the head, but it was not yet enough to frighten any one. He returned to the extraordinary exertions, or rather to the superabundant productions of his earlier years, as the following full list of the compositions of 1828, in order, as far as the dates permit, will show.

Jan.	Songs, 'Die Sterne' (op. 96. no. 1); 'Der Winterabend (Lf. 26).
March.	Symphony in C, no. 9. Oratorio, Miriam's Siegesgesang. Song, 'Auf dem Strom,' Voice and Horn (op. 119).
May.	Lebensstürme, PF. duet (op. 144). Hymn to the Holy Ghost (op. 154), for 2 Choirs and Wind. 2 Clavierstücke. Song, 'Widerschein' (Lief 15, no. 1).
June.	Mass in E♭ (begun). Fugue in E minor, PF. duet, op. 152 ('Baden, Juny, 1828'). Grand Rondeau, PF. duet (op. 107).
July.	Psalm 92, in Hebrew, for Baritone and Chorus.
August.	Songs, 'Schwanengesang.' nos. 1–13.
Sept.	PF. Sonata in C minor. Ditto in A. Ditto in B♭ ('Sept. 26').
Oct.	Song, 'Schwanengesang,' No. 14. New Benedictus to Mass in C. 'Der Hirt auf den Felsen,' Voice and Clarinet (op. 129).
'1828' only.	String Quintet in C (op. 163).

This truly extraordinary list includes his greatest known symphony, his greatest and longest mass, his first oratorio, his finest piece of chamber music, 3 noble PF. sonatas, and some astonishingly fine songs. The autograph of the symphony, 218 pages in oblong quarto, is now one of the treasures of the Library of the Musik-verein at Vienna. It has no title or dedication, nothing beyond the customary heading to the first page of the score 'Symfonie März 1828, Frz. Schubert Mpia,' marking the date at which it was begun. If it may be taken as a specimen, he took more pains this year than he did formerly. In the first three movements of this great work there are more afterthoughts than usual. The subject of the Introduction and the first subject of the Allegro have both been altered. In several passages an extra bar has been stuck in—between the Scherzo and the Trio, 2 bars; in the development of the Scherzo itself 16 bars of an exquisite episode—first sketched in the Octet—have been substituted. The Finale alone remains virtually untouched.^[156] But such alterations, always rare in Schubert, are essentially different from the painful writing, and erasing, and rewriting, which we are familiar with in the case of Beethoven's finest and most spontaneous music. This, though the first draft, is no rough copy; there are no traces of sketches or preparation; the music has evidently gone straight on to the paper without any intervention, and the alterations are merely a few improvements^[157] en passant. It is impossible to look at the writing of the autograph, after Schubert has warmed to his work, especially that of the Finale, and not see that it was put down as an absolute impromptu, written as fast as the pen could travel on the paper.

It seems that Schubert's friends used to lecture him a good deal on the diffuseness and want of consideration which they discovered in his works, and were continually forcing Beethoven's laborious processes of composition down his throat. This often made him angry, and when repeated, evening after evening, he would say, 'So you're going to set upon me again to day! Go it, I beg you!' But, for all his annoyance, the remonstrances appear to have had some effect; and after Beethoven's death he asked ^[158]Schindler to show him the MS. of Fidelio. He took it to the piano, and pored over it a long time, making out the passages as they had been, and comparing them with what they were; but it would not do; and at last he broke out, and exclaimed that for such drudgery he could see no reason under any circumstances; that he thought the music at first just as good as at last; and that for his part he had really no time for such corrections. Whether the amendments to the Great Symphony were a remorseful attempt on Schubert's part to imitate Beethoven and satisfy the demands of his friends we cannot tell; but if go they are very unlike the pattern.

The autograph of the E♭ Mass, in the Bibliothek at Berlin, does not show at all the same amount of corrections as that in A♭ (see p. 336b), nor do the fugal movements appear to have given any special trouble. True, the 'Cum Sancto' was recommenced after the erasure of 7 bars,^[159] but apparently merely for the sake of changing the tempo from to , and the larger part of the movement was evidently written with great rapidity. In the 'Et vitam' there are barely a dozen corrections, and the 'Osanna' has every mark of extreme haste. Some of the erasures in this work are made with the penknife—surely an almost unique thing with Schubert! The 4-hand PF. fugue in E minor (op. 152, dated 'Baden, June 1828') is not improbably a trial of counterpoint with reference to this Mass.

The Songs of 1828 are splendid. It does not appear that the 14 which were published after his death with the publisher's title of 'Schwanengesang'—'the Swan's song'—were intended by him to form a series of the same kind as the Schöne Müllerin and Winterreise; but no lover of Schubert can dissociate them, and in the Liebesbothschaft, Aufenthalt, Ständchen, etc., we have some of the most beautiful, and in the Atlas, Am Meer, Doppelgänger, etc., some of the most impressive, of his many songs. The words of some are by Rellstab, and the origin of these is thus told by Schindler.^[160] Schubert had been much touched by Schindler's efforts to make Beethoven acquainted with his music, and after the great master's death the two gradually became intimate. Schindler had possession of many of Beethoven's papers, and Schubert used to visit him in familiar style, to look over them. Those which specially attracted him were the poems and dramas sent in at various times for consideration; amongst others a bundle of some 20 ^[161]anonymous lyrics which Beethoven had intended to set, and which therefore attracted Schubert's particular notice. He took them away with him, and in two days brought back the Liebesbothschaft, Kriegers Ahnung, and Aufenthalt, set to music. This account, which is perfectly natural and consistent, and which Mr. Thayer allows me to say he sees no reason to question, has been exaggerated^[162] into a desire expressed by Beethoven himself that Schubert should set these particular songs; but for this there is nowarrant. Ten more quickly followed the three just mentioned; and these thirteen—7 to Rellstab's and 6 to Heine's words (from the 'Buch^[163] der Lieder'), were, on Mr. Nottebohm's authority, written in August. The last is by Seidl; it is dated 'Oct. 1828,' and is probably Schubert's last song.

But it is time to return to the chronicle of his life during its last ten months. Of his doings in January we know little more than can be gathered from the following letter to Anselm Hüttenbrenner, the original of which is in the British Museum.

Vienna, Jan. 18, 1828.

My dear old Hüttenbrenner. You will wonder at my writing now? So do I. But if I write it is because I am to get something by it. Now just listen; a drawing-master's place near you at Grätz is vacant, and competition is invited. My brother Karl, whom you probably know, wishes to get the place. He is very clever, both as a landscape-painter and a draughtsman. If you could do anything for him in the matter I should be eternally obliged to you. You are a great man in Grätz, and probably know some one in authority, or some one else who has a vote. My brother is married, and has a family, and would therefore be very glad to obtain a permanent appointment. I hope that things are all right with you, as well as with your dear family, and your brothers. A Trio of mine, for Pianoforte, Violin, and Violoncello, has been lately performed by Schuppanzigh, and was much liked. It was splendidly executed by Boklet, Schuppanzigh, and Link. Have you done nothing new? A propos, why doesn't ^[164]Greiner, or whatever his name is, publish the two songs? What's the reason? Sapperment!

I repeat my request: recollect, what you do for my brother, you do for me. Hoping for a favorable answer, I remain your true friend, till death,

Franz Schubert Mpia.

of Vienna.

The expression 'till death,' which appears here for the first time in his letters, and the words 'of Vienna,' added to his name, are both singular.

On the 24th, at an evening concert at the Musik-Verein, the serenade for contralto solo and female chorus just mentioned was performed, and is spoken of by the correspondent of the Leipzig A.M.Z. as 'one of the most charming works of this favourite writer.' In February we find three letters from North Germany, one from Probst of Leipzig, and two from Schott. They show how deep an impression Schubert was making outside Austria. Both firms express warm appreciation of his music, both leave the terms to be named by him, and Schott orders a list of 9 important pieces.

On March 26 Schubert gave, what we wonder he never gave before, an evening concert on his own account in the Hall of the Musik-Verein. The following is the programme exactly reprinted from the original.

Einladung

zu dem Privat Concerte, welches Franz Schubert am
26. März, Abends 7 Uhr im Locale des oesterreichischen Musikvereins
unter den Tuchlauben No. 558 zu geben die Ehre haben wird.

Vorkommende Stücke.

1.	Erster Satz eines neuen Streich Quartetts vorgetragen von den Herren Böhm, Holz, Weiss, und Linke.
2.	a.	Der Kreutzzug,	von Leitner	$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$	Gesänge mit Begleitung des Piano Forte, vorgetragen von Herrn Vogl, k. k. pensionirten Hofopernsänger.
	b.	Die Sterne,	von demselben
	c.	Fischerweise,	von Bar. Schlechta
	d.	Fragment aus dem Aeschylus
3.	Ständchen von Grillparzer, Sopran-Solo und Chor, vorgetragen von Fräulein Josephine Fröhlich und den Schülerinnen des Con- servatoriums.
4.	Neues Trio für das Piano Forte, Violin und Violoncelle, vorgetragen von den Herren Carl Maria von Boklet, Böhm und Linke.
5.	Auf dem Strome von Rellstab. Gesang mit Begleitung des Horns und Piano Forte, vorgetragen von den Herren Tietze, und Lewy dem Jüngeren.
6.	Die Allmacht, von Ladislaus Pyrker, Gesang mit Begleitung des Piano Forte, vorgetragen von Herren Vogl.
7.	Schlachtgesang von Klopfstock, Doppelchor für Männerstimmen.

Sammtliche Musikstücke sind von der Composition des Concertgebers.

Eintrittskarten zu fl. 3. W. W. sind in den Kunsthandlungen
der Herren Haslinger, Diabelli und Leidesdorf zu haben.

This programme attracted 'more people than the hall had ever before been known to hold,' and the applause was very great. The net result to Schubert was 800 gulden, Vienna currency, equal to about £32. This put him in funds for the moment, and the money flowed freely. Thus, when, three days later, Paganini gave his first concert in Vienna, Schubert was there, undeterred, in his wealth, by a charge of 5 gulden. Nay, he went a second time, not that he cared to go again, but that he wished to treat Bauernfeld, who had not 5 farthings, while with him 'money was as plenty as blackberries.'^[165]

This month he wrote, or began to write, his last and greatest Symphony, in C. He is said to have offered it to the Society for performance, and in so doing to have expressed himself to the effect that henceforth he wished to have nothing more to do with songs, as he was now planted firmly in Opera and Symphony. This rests on the authority of Kreissle;^[166] the silence of Herr Pohl in his history of the Society shows that its minutebooks contain no express mention of the reception of the work, as they do that of the Symphony in Oct. 1826. There is no doubt, however, that it was adopted by the Society, and is entered in the Catalogue, under the year 1828, as xiii. 8024.^[167] But this prodigious work was far beyond the then powers of the chief musical institution of Vienna. The parts were copied, and some rehearsals held; but both length and difficulty were against it, and it was soon withdrawn, on Schubert's own advice, in favour of his earlier Symphony, No. 6, also in C. Neither the one nor the other was performed till after his death.

March also saw the birth of the interesting Oratorio 'Miriam's Song of Victory,' to Grillparzer's words.^[168] It is written, as so many of Schubert's choral pieces are, for a simple pianoforte accompaniment; but this was merely to suit the means at his disposal, and is an instance of his practical sagacity. It is unfortunate, however, since the oratorio has become a favourite, that we have no other orchestral accompaniment than that afterwards adapted by Lachner, which is greatly wanting in character, and in the picturesque elements so native to Schubert.^[169] A song to Rellstab's words, 'Auf dem Strom' (op. 119), for soprano, with obbligato horn and PF. accompaniment, written for Lewy, a Dresden horn-player, belongs to this month, and was indeed first heard at Schubert's own concert, on the 16th, and afterwards repeated at a concert of Lewy's, on April 20, Schubert himself playing the accompaniment each time.

To April no compositions can be ascribed, unless it be the Quintet in C for strings (op. 163), which bears only the date '1828.' This is now universally accepted not only as Schubert's finest piece of chamber music, but as one of the very finest of its class. The two cellos alone [App. p.786 "for alone read in themselves"] give it distinction; it has all the poetry and romance of the G major Quartet, without the extravagant length which will always stand in the way of that noble production; while the Adagio is so solemn and yet so beautiful in its tone, so entrancing in its melodies, and so incessant in its interest, and the Trio of the Scherzo, both from itself and its place in the movement, is so eminently dramatic, that it is difficult to speak of either too highly.

In May we have a grand battle-piece, the 'Hymn to the Holy Ghost,' for 8 male voices, written for the Concert Spirituel of Vienna, at first with PF., in October scored by the composer for a wind band, and in 1847 published as op. 154. Also a 'Characteristic Allegro' for the PF. 4 hands, virtually the first movement of a Sonata—issued some years later with the title 'Lebensstürme' (op. 144); an Allegro vivace and Allegretto, in E♭ minor and major, for PF. solo, published in 1868 as 1st and 2nd of '3 Clavierstücke'; and a song 'Widerschein' (Lf. 15, 1).

In June, probably at the request of the publisher, he wrote a 4-hand Rondo for PF. in A, since issued as 'Grand Rondeau, op. 107'; and began his sixth Mass, that in E♭. In this month he paid a visit to Baden—Beethoven's Baden; since a fugue for 4 hands in E minor is marked as written there in 'June 1828.' In the midst of all this work a letter^[170] from Mosewius of Breslau, a prominent Prussian musician, full of sympathy and admiration, must have been doubly gratifying as coming from North Germany.

In July he wrote the 92nd Psalm in Hebrew for the synagogue at Vienna, of which Sulzer was precentor. In August, notwithstanding his declaration on completing his last Symphony, we find him (under circumstances already described) composing 7 songs of Rellstab's, and 6 of Heine's, afterwards issued as 'Schwanengesang.'

He opened September with a trifle in the shape of a short chorus,^[171] with accompaniment of wind band, for the consecration of a bell in the church of the Alservorstadt. A few days after, the memory of Hummel's visit in the spring of 1827 seems to have come upon him like a lion, and he wrote off 3 fine PF. solo sonatas, with the view of dedicating them to that master. These pieces, though very unequal and in parts extraordinarily diffuse, are yet highly characteristic of Schubert. They contain some of his finest and most original music, and also his most affecting (e.g. Andantino, Scherzo and Trio of the A minor Sonata); and if full of disappointment and wrath, and the gathering gloom of these last few weeks of his life, they are also saturated with that nameless personal charm that is at once so strong and so indescribable. The third of the three, that in B♭, dated Sept. 26, has perhaps more of grace and finish than the other two, and has now, from the playing of Mme. Schumann, Mr. Charles Halle, and others, become a great favourite. The sonatas were not published till a year after Hummel's death, and were then dedicated by Diabelli-Spina to Robert Schumann, who acknowledges the dedication by a genial though hardly adequate article in his 'Ges. Schriften,' ii. 239. The second part of the Winterreise was put into Haslinger's hands for engraving before the end of this month.^[172]

In October, prompted by some occasion which has eluded record, he wrote a new 'Benedictus' to his early Mass in C, a chorus of great beauty and originality in A minor, of which a competent ^[173]critic has said that 'its only fault consists in its immeasurable superiority to the rest of the Mass.' For some other occasion, which has also vanished, he wrote accompaniments for 13 wind instruments to his grand 'Hymn to the Holy Ghost'; a long scena or song for soprano—probably his old admirer, Anna Milder—with pianoforte and obligato clarinet (op. 129); and a song called 'Die Taubenpost' ('The carrier pigeon') to Seidl's words. The succession of these pieces is not known. It is always assumed that the Taubenpost, which now closes the Schwanengesang, was the last. Whichever of them was the last, was the last piece he ever wrote.

The negotiations with Probst and Schott, and also with Brüggemann of Halberstadt, a publisher anxious for some easy PF. pieces for a series called 'Mühling's Museum,' by no means fulfilled the promise of their commencement. The magnificent style in which the Schotts desired Schubert to name his own terms^[174] contrasts badly with their ultimate refusal (Oct. 30) to pay more than 30 florins (or about 25s.) for the PF. Quintet (op. 114) instead of the modest 60 demanded by him. In fact the sole result was an arrangement with Probst to publish the long and splendid E♭ Trio, which he did, according to Nottebohm,^[175] in September, and for which the composer received the incredibly small sum of 21 Vienna florins, or just 17s. 6d.! Schubert's answer to Probst's enquiry as to the 'Dedication' is so characteristic as to deserve reprinting:—

Vienna, Aug. 1.

Euer Wohlgeboren, the opus of the Trio is 100. I entreat you to make the edition correct; I am extremely anxious about it. The work will be dedicated to no one but those who like it. That is the most profitable dedication. With all esteem,

Franz Schubert.

The home publications of 1828 are not so important as those of former years. The first part of the Winterreise (op. 89) was issued in January by Haslinger; March 14, 3 songs by Sir W. Scott (ops. 85, 86) by Diabelli; at Easter (April 6) 6 songs (ops. 92 and 108), and one set of 'Momens musicals,' by Leidesdorf; in May, 2 songs (op. 93) by Kienreich^[176] of Gratz; in June or July ('Sommer') 4 songs (op. 96) by Diabelli; Aug. 13, 4 Refrain-Lieder (op. 95) Weigl. Also the following, to which no month can be fixed:—'Andantino varié and Rondeau brillant' (op. 84), PF. 4 hands, on French motifs, forming a continuation of op. 63, Weigl; 3 songs (op. 87), Pennauer; 4 impromptus (op. 90), and 12 Gratzer Walzer (op. 91) for PF. solo, Diabelli; Gratzer Galopp, do. Haslinger; 4 songs (op. 106) lithographed without publisher's name.

There is nothing in the events already catalogued to have prevented Schubert's taking an excursion this summer. In either Styria or Upper Austria he would have been welcomed with open arms, and the journey might have given him a stock of health sufficient to carry him on for years. And he appears to have entertained the idea of both.^[177] But the real obstacle, as he constantly repeats, was his poverty.^[178] 'Its all over with Gratz for the present,' he says, with a touch of his old fun, 'for money and weather are both against me.' Herr Franz Lachner, at that time his constant companion, told the writer, that he had taken half-a-dozen of the 'Winterreise' songs to Haslinger and brought back half-a-dozen gulden—each gulden being then worth a franc. Let the lover of Schubert pause a moment, and think of the 'Post' or the 'Wirthshaus' being sold for tenpence! of that unrivalled imagination and genius producing those deathless strains and being thus rewarded! When this was the case, when even a great work like the E♭ Trio, after months and months of negotiation and heavy postage, realises the truly microscopic amount of '20 florins 60 kreutzers' (as with true Prussian businesslike minuteness Herr Probst specifies it), of 17s. 6d. as our modern currency has it not even Schubert's fluency and rapidity could do more than keep body and soul together. It must have been hard not to apply the words of Müller's 'Leyermann' to his own case—

Barfuss auf dem Eise
Wankt er hin und her,
Und sein kleiner Teller
Bleibt ihm immer leer.

Wandering barefoot to and fro
⁠On the icy ground,
In his little empty tray
⁠Not a copper to be found.

In fact so empty was his little tray that he could not even afford the diligence-fare to Pesth, where Lachner's 'Bürgschaft' was to be brought out, and where, as Schindler reminds him, he would be safe to have a lucrative concert of his own music, as profitable as that of March 26. Escape from Vienna by that road was impossible for him this year.

Schubert had for some time past been living with Schober at the 'Blaue Igel' (or Blue Hedgehog), still a well-known tavern and resort of musicians in the Tuchlauben; but at the end of August he left, and took up his quarters with Ferdinand in a new house in the Neue Wieden suburb, then known as No. 694 Firmian, or Lumpert,^[179] or Neugebauten, Gasse, now (1881) No. 6 Kettenbrücken Gasse; a long house with three rows of nine windows in front; a brown sloping tiled roof; an entry in the middle to a quadrangle behind; a quiet, clean, inoffensive place.^[180] Here, on the second floor, to the right hand, lived Schubert for the last five weeks of his life, and his death is commemorated by a stone tablet over the entry, placed there by the Männergesang Verein in Nov. 1869, and containing these words:—'In diesem Hause starb am 19 November 1828 der Tondichter Franz Schubert':—In this house died on Nov. 19, 1828, the composer Franz Schubert. Ferdinand had removed there, and Franz, perhaps to help his brother with the rent, went there too. He made the move with the concurrence of his doctor, von Rinna, in the hope that as it was nearer the country—it was just over the river in the direction of the Belvedere—Schubert would be able to reach fresh air and exercise more easily than he could from the heart of the city. The old attacks of giddiness and blood to the head had of late been frequent, and soon after taking up his new quarters he became seriously unwell. However, this was so far relieved that at the beginning of October he made a short walking tour with Ferdinand and two other friends to Ueber-Waltersdorf, and thence to Haydn's old residence and grave at Eisenstadt, some 25 miles from Vienna. It took them three days, and during that time he was very careful as to eating and drinking, regained his old cheerfulness, and was often very gay. Still he was far from well, and after his return the bad symptoms revived, to the great alarm of his friends. At length, on the evening of Oct. 31, while at supper at the Rothen Kreuz in the Himmelpfortgrund, an eating-house much frequented by himself and his friends, he took some fish on his plate, but at the first mouthful threw down the knife and fork, and exclaimed that it tasted like poison. From that moment hardly anything but medicine passed his lips; but he still walked a good deal. About this time Lachner returned from Pesth in all the glory of the success of his opera; and though only in Vienna for a few days, he called on his friend, and they had two hours' conversation. Schubert was full of plans for the future, especially for the completion of 'Graf von Gleichen,' which, as already mentioned, he had sketched in the summer of 1827. He discussed it also with Bauernfeld during the next few days, and spoke of the brilliant style in which he intended to score it. About this time Carl Holz, Beethoven's old friend, at Schubert's urgent request, took him to hear the great master's C♯ minor Quartet, still a novelty in Vienna. It agitated him extremely. 'He got (says Holz) into such a state of excitement and enthusiasm that we were all afraid for him.'^[181] On the 3rd Nov., the morrow of All Souls' day, he walked early in the morning to Hernals—then a village, now a thickly built suburb outside the Gürtelstrasse—to hear his brother's Latin Requiem in the church there. He thought it simple, and at the same time effective, and on the whole was much pleased with it. After the service he walked for three hours, and on reaching home complained of great weariness.

Shortly before this time the scores of Handel's oratorios had come into his hands—not impossibly some of the set of Arnold's edition given to Beethoven before his death, and sold in his sale for 102 florins; and the study of them had brought home to him his deficiencies in the department of counterpoint. 'I see now,' said he^[182] to the Fröhlichs, 'how much I have still to learn; but I am going to work hard with Sechter, and make up for lost time'—Sechter being the recognised authority of the day on counterpoint. So much was he bent on this, that on the day after his walk to Hernals, i.e. on Nov. 4, notwithstanding his weakness, he went into Vienna and, with another musician named Lanz, called on Sechter, to consult him on the matter, and they actually decided on Marpurg as the text-book, and on the number and dates of the lessons.^[183] But he never began the course. During the next few days he grew weaker and weaker; and when the doctor was called in, it was too late. About the 11th he wrote a note^[184] to Schober—doubtless his last letter.

Dear Schober,

I am ill. I have eaten and drunk nothing for eleven days, and am so tired and shaky that I can only get from the bed to the chair, and back. Rinna is attending me. If I taste anything, I bring it up again directly.

In this distressing condition, be so kind as to help me to some reading. Of Cooper's I have read the Last of the Mohicans, the Spy, the Pilot, and the Pioneers. If you have anything else of his, I entreat you to leave it with Frau von Bogner at the Coffee house. My brother, who is conscientiousness itself, will bring it to me in the moet conscientious way. Or anything else. Your friend,

Schubert.

What answer Schober made to this appeal is not known. He is said to have had a daily report of Schubert's condition from the doctor, but there is no mention of his having called. Spaun, Randhartinger,^[185] Bauernfeld, and Josef Hüttenbrenner, are all said to have visited him; but in those days there was great dread of infection, his new residence was out of the way, and dangerous illness was such a novelty with Schubert that his friends may be excused for not thinking the case so grave as it was. After a few days Rinna himself fell ill, and his place was filled by a staff-surgeon named Behring.

On the 14th Schubert took to his bed.^[186] He was able to sit up a little for a few days longer, and thus to correct the proofs of the 2nd part of the 'Winterreise,' probably the last occupation of those inspired and busy fingers. He appears to have had no pain, only increasing weakness, want of sleep, and great depression. Poor fellow! no wonder he was depressed! everything was against him, his weakness, his poverty, the dreary house, the long lonely hours, the cheerless future—all concentrated and embodied in the hopeless images of Müller's poems, and the sad gloomy strains in which he has clothed them for ever and ever—the Letzte Hoffnung, the Krähe, the Wegweiser, the Wirthshaus, the Nebensonnen, the Leiermann—all breathing of solitude, broken hopes, illusions, strange omens, poverty, death, the grave! As he went through the pages, they must have seemed like pictures of his own life; and such passages as the following, from the Wegweiser (or Signpost), can hardly have failed to strike the dying man as aimed at himself:—

Einen Weiser seh' ich stehen,
Unverrückt vor meinem Blick,
Eine Strasse muss ich gehen,
Die noch keiner ging zurück.

Straight before me stands a signpost,
Steadfast in my very gaze;
'Tis the road none e'er retraces,
'Tis the road that I must tread.

Alas! he was indeed going the road which no one e'er retraces! On Sunday the 16th the doctors had a consultation; they predicted a nervous fever, but had still hopes of their patient. On the afternoon of Monday, Bauernfeld saw him for the last time. He was in very bad spirits, and complained of great weakness, and of heat in his head, but his mind was still clear, and there was no sign of wandering; he spoke of his earnest wish for a good opera-book. Later in the day, however, when the doctor arrived, he was quite delirious, and typhus had unmistakeably broken out. The next day, Tuesday, he was very restless throughout, trying continually to get out of bed, and constantly fancying himself in a strange room. That evening he called Ferdinand on to the bed, made him put his ear close to his mouth, and whispered mysteriously 'What are they doing with me?' 'Dear Franz,' was the reply, 'they are doing all they can to get you well again, and the doctor assures us you will soon be right, only you must do your best to stay in bed.' He returned to the idea in his wandering—'I implore you to put me in my own room, and not to leave me in this corner under the earth; don't I deserve a place above ground?' 'Dear Franz,' said the agonised brother, 'be calm; trust your brother Ferdinand, whom you have always trusted, and who loves you so dearly. You are in the room which you always had, and lying on your own bed.' 'No,' said the dying man, 'that's not true; Beethoven is not here.' So strongly had the great composer taken possession of him! An hour or two later the doctor came, and spoke to him in the same style. Schubert looked him full in the face and made no answer; but turning round clutched at the wall with his poor tired hands, and said in a slow earnest voice, 'Here, here, is my end.' At 3 in the afternoon of Wednesday the i pth Nov. 1828 he breathed his last, and his simple earnest soul took its flight from the world. He was 31 years, 9 months, and 19 days old. There never has been one like him, and there never will be another.

His death, and the letters of the elder Franz and of Ferdinand, bring out the family relations in a very pleasant light. The poor pious bereaved father, still at his drudgery as 'school teacher in the Rossau,' 'afflicted, yet strengthened by faith in God and the Blessed Sacraments,' writing to announce the loss of his 'beloved son, Franz Schubert, musician and composer'; the good innocent Ferdinand, evidently recognised as Franz's peculiar property, clinging to his brother as the one great man he had ever known; thinking only of him, and of fulfilling his last wish to lie near Beethoven, and ready to sacrifice all his scanty savings to do it—these form a pair of interesting figures. Neither Ignaz nor Carl appear at all in connexion with the event, the father and Ferdinand alone are visible.

The funeral took place on Friday Nov. 21. It was bad weather, but a number of friends and sympathisers assembled. He lay in his coffin, dressed, as the custom then was, like a hermit, with a crown of laurel round his brows. The face was calm, and looked more like sleep than death. By desire of the family Schober was chief mourner. The coffin left the house at half-past two, and was borne by a group of young men, students and others, in red cloaks and flowers, to the little church of S. Joseph in Margarethen, where the funeral service was said, and a motet by Gansbacher, and a hymn of Schober's, 'Der Friede sey mit dir, du engelreine Seele'—written that morning in substitution for his own earlier words, to the music of Schubert's 'Pax vobiscum'—were sung over the coffin. It was then taken to the Ortsfriedhof in the village of Wanting, and committed to the ground, three^[187] places higher up than the grave of Beethoven. In ordinary course he would have been buried in the cemetery at Matzleinsdorf, but the appeal which he made almost with his dying breath was naturally a law to the tender heart of Ferdinand, and through his piety and self-denial his dear brother rests, if not next, yet near to the great musician, whom he so deeply reverenced and admired. Late in the afternoon Wilhelm von Chezy, son of the authoress of Euryanthe and Rosamunde, who though not in Schubert's intimate circle was yet one of his acquaintances, by some accident remembered that he had not seen him for many months, and he walked down to Bogner's coffee-house, where the composer was usually to be found between 5 and 7, smoking his pipe and joking with his friends, and where the Cooper's novels mentioned in his note to Schober were not improbably still waiting for him. He found the little room almost empty, and the familiar round table deserted. On entering he was accosted by the waiter—'Your honour is soon back from the funeral!' 'Whose funeral?' said Chezy in astonishment. 'Franz Schubert's,' replied the waiter, 'he died two days ago, and is buried this afternoon.'^[188]

He left no will. The official inventory^[189] of his possessions at the time of his death, in which he is described as 'Tonkünstler und Compositeur'—musician and composer—is as follows:—'Three dress coats, 3 walking coats, 10 pairs of trowsers, 9 waistcoats—together worth 37 florins; 1 hat, 5 pairs of shoes and 2 of boots—valued at 2 florins; 4 shirts, 9 cravats and pocket handkerchiefs, 13 pairs of socks, 1 towel, 1 sheet, 2 bedcases—8 florins; 1 mattrass, 1 bolster, 1 quilt—6 florins; a quantity of old music valued at 10 florins—63 florins (say £2 10s.) in all. Beyond the above there were no effects.' Is it possible, then, that in the 'old music, valued at 8s. 6d.,' are included the whole of his unpublished manuscripts? Where else could they be but in the house he was inhabiting?

The expenses of the illness and funeral, though the latter is especially mentioned as 'second class,' amounted in all to 269 silver florins, 19 kr. (say £27)—a heavy sum for people in the poverty of Ferdinand and his father. Of this the preliminary service cost 84 fl. 35 kr.; the burial 44 fl. 45 kr.; and the ground 70 fl.; leaving the rest for the doctor's fees and incidental disbursements. Illness and death were truly expensive luxuries in those days.

On the 27th Nov. the Kirchen-musikverein performed Mozart's Requiem in his honour; and on Dec. 23 a requiem by Anselm Hüttenbrenner was given in the Augustine church. On the 14th Dec. his early Symphony in C, No. 6, was played at the Gesellschafts concert, and again on March 12, 1829. At Linz on Christmas Day there was a funeral ceremony with speeches and music. Articles in his honour appeared in the 'Wiener Zeitschrift' of Dec. 25 (by von Zedlitz), in the 'Theaterzeitung' of Vienna of the 20th and 27th (by Blahetka); in the Vienna 'Zeitschrift für Kunst' of June 9, 11, 13, 1829 (by Bauernfeld); in the Vienna 'Archiv für Geschichte' (by Mayrhofer); and memorial poems were published by Seidl, Schober, and others. On Jan. 30, 1829, a concert was given by the arrangement of Anna Fröhlich in the hall of the Musikverein; the programme included 'Miriam,' and consisted entirely of Schubert's music, excepting a set of Flute variations by Gabrielsky, and the first Finale in Don Juan; and the crowd was so great that the performance had to be repeated shortly afterwards. The proceeds of these concerts and the subscriptions of a few friends sufficed to erect the monument which now stands at the back of the grave. It was carried out by Anna Fröhlich, Grillparzer, and Jenger. The bust was by Franz Dialler, and the cost of the whole was 360 silver florins, 46 kr. The inscription^[190] is from the pen of Grillparzer:

DIE TONKUNST BEGRUB HIER EINEN REICHEN BESITZ
ABER NOCH VIEL SCHOENERE HOFFNUNGEN.
FRANZ SCHUBERT LIEGT HIER.
GEBOREN AM XXXI. JÆNNER MDCCXCVII.
GESTORBEN AM XIX. NOV. MDCCCXXVIII.
XXXI JAHRE ALT.

---

MUSIC HAS HERE ENTOMBED A RICH TREASURE,
BUT MUCH FAIRER HOPES.
FRANZ SCHUBERT LIES HERE.
BORN JAN. 31, 1797;
DIED NOV. 19, 1828,
31 YEARS OLD.

The allusion to fairer hopes has been much criticised, but surely without reason. When we remember in how many departments of music Schubert's latest productions were his best, we are undoubtedly warranted in believing that he would have gone on progressing for many years, had it been the will of God to spare him.

In 1863, owing to the state of dilapidation at which the graves of both Beethoven and Schubert had arrived, the repair of the tombs, and the exhumation and reburial of both, were undertaken by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. The operation was begun on the 12th October and completed on the 13th. The opportunity was embraced of taking a cast and a photograph of Schubert's skull, and of measuring the principal bones of both skeletons. The lengths in Schubert's case were to those in Beethoven's as 27 to 29,^[191] which implies that as Beethoven was 5 ft. 5 in. high, he was only 5 ft. and ½ an inch.

[App. p.768 "add that Schubert was reburied on Sept. 23, 1888, in the central cemetery of Vienna."]

Various memorials have been set up to him in Vienna. The tablets on the houses in which he was born and died have been noticed. They were both carried out by the Männergesang Verein, and completed, the former Oct. 7, 1858, the latter in Nov. 1869. The same Society erected by subscription a monument to him in the Stadt-Park; a sitting figure in Carrara marble by Carl Kuntmann, with the inscription 'Franz Schubert, seinem Andenken der Wiener Männergesangverein, 1872.' It cost 42,000 florins, and was unveiled May 15, 1872.

---

Outside of Austria his death created at first but little sensation. Robert Schumann, then 18, is said to have been deeply affected, and to have burst into tears when the news reached him at Leipzig; Mendelssohn too, though unlike Schubert in temperament, circumstances and education, doubtless fully estimated his loss; and Rellstab, Anna Milder, and others in Berlin who knew him, must have mourned him deeply; but the world at large did not yet know enough of his works to understand either what it possessed or what it had lost in that modest reserved young musician of 31. But Death always brings a man, especially a young man, into notoriety, and increases public curiosity about his works: and so it was now; the stream of publication at once began, and is even yet flowing, neither the supply of works nor the eagerness to obtain them having ceased. The world has not yet recovered from its astonishment as, one after another, the stores accumulated in those dusky heaps of music paper (valued at 8s. 6d.) were made public, each so astonishingly fresh, copious, and different from the last. As songs, masses, part-songs, operas, chamber-music of all sorts and all dimensions—pianoforte-sonatas, impromptus and fantasias, duets, trios, quartets, quintet, octet, issued from the press or were heard in manuscript; as each season brought its new symphony, overture, entr'acte, or ballet-music, people began to be staggered by the amount. 'A deep shade of suspicion,' said a leading musical periodical in 1839, 'is beginning to be cast over the authenticity of posthumous compositions. All Paris has been in a state of amazement at the posthumous diligence of the song-writer, F. Schubert, who, while one would think that his ashes repose in peace in Vienna, is still making eternal new songs.' We know better now, but it must be confessed that the doubt was not so unnatural then.

Of the MS. music—an incredible quantity, of which no one then knew the amount or the particulars, partly because there was so much of it, partly because Schubert concealed, or rather forgot, a great deal of his work—a certain number of songs and pianoforte pieces were probably in the hands of publishers at the time of his death, but the great bulk was in the possession of Ferdinand, as his heir. A set of 4 songs (op. 105) was issued on the day of his funeral. Other songs ops. 101, 104, 106, 110–112, 116–118; and two PF. Duets, the Fantasia in F minor (op. 103) and the 'Grand Rondeau' (op. 107) followed up to April 1829. But the first important publication was the well-known 'Schwanengesang,' so entitled by Haslinger—a collection of 14 songs, 7 by Rellstab, 6 by Heine, and 1 by Seidl—unquestionably Schubert's last. They were issued in May 1829, and, to judge by the lists of arrangements and editions given by Nottebohm, have been as much appreciated as the Schöne Mullerin or the Winterreise. A stream of songs followed for which we must refer the student to Mr. Nottebohm's catalogue. The early part^[192] of 1830 saw the execution of a bargain between Diabelli and Ferdinand, by which that Firm was guaranteed the property of the following works: op. 1–32, 35, 39–59, 62, 63, 64, 66–69, 71–77, 84–88, 92–99, 101–104, 106, 108, 109, 113, 115, 116, 119, 121–124, 127, 128, 130, 132–140, 142–153; also 154 songs; 14 vocal quartets; the canons of 1813; a cantata in C for 3 voices; the Hymn to the Holy Ghost; Klopstock's Stabat Mater in F minor, and Grosse Halleluja; Magnificat in C; the String Quintet in C; 4 string quartets in C, Bb, G, B♭; a string trio in B♭; 2 sonatas in A and A minor, variations in F, an Adagio in D♭, and Allegretto in C♯—all for PF. solo; Sonata for PF. and Arpeggione; Sonata in A, and Fantasie in C both for PF. and violin; Rondo in A for violin and quartet; Adagio and Rondo in F, for PF. and quartet; a Concert-piece in D for violin and orchestra; Overture in D for orchestra; Overture to 3rd Act of the 'Zauberharfe'; Lazarus; a Tantum ergo in E♭ for 4 voices and orchestra; an Offertorium in B♭ for tenor solo, chorus and orchestra.

Another large portion of Ferdinand's possessions came, sooner or later, into the hands of Dr. Eduard Schneider, son of Franz's sister Theresia. They comprised the autographs of Symphonies 1, 2, 3, and 6, and copies of 4 and 5; Autographs of operas:—the 'Teufel's Lustschloss,' 'Fernando,' 'Der Vierjährige Posten,' 'Die Freunde von Salamanka,' 'Die Bürgschaft,' 'Fierabras,' and 'Sakontala'; the Mass in F; and the original orchestral parts of the whole of the music to 'Rosamunde.' The greater part of these are now (1882) safe in the possession of Herr Nicholas Dumba of Vienna.

On July 10, 1830, Diabelli began the issue of what was entitled Franz Schuberts nachgelassene musikalische Dichtungen; and continued it at intervals till 1850, by which time 50 Parts (Lieferungen), containing 137 songs, had appeared. In 1830 he also issued the two astonishing 4-hand marches (op. 121); and a set of 20 waltzes (op. 127); whilst other houses published the PF. Sonatas in A and E♭ (op. 120, 122); two string quartets of the year 1824 (op. 125); the D minor Quartet, etc. For the progress of the publication after this date we must again refer the reader to Mr. Nottebohm's invaluable Thematic Catalogue (Vienna, Schreiber, 1874), which contains every detail, and may be implicitly relied on; merely mentioning the principal works, and the year of publication:—Miriam, Mass in B♭, 3 last Sonatas and the Grand Duo, 1838; Symphony in C, 1840; Phantasie in C, PF. and violin, 1850; Quartet in G, 1852; Quintet in C, and Octet, 1854; Gesang der Geister, 1858; Verschworenen, 1862; Mass in E♭, 1865; Lazarus, 1866; Symphony in B minor, 1867; Mass in A♭, 1875.

No complete critical edition of Schubert's works has yet been undertaken. Of the pianoforte pieces and songs there are numberless publications, for which the reader is referred to Mr. Nottebohm's Thematic Catalogue. Of the Songs two collections may be signalised as founded on the order of opus numbers:—that of Senff of Leipzig, edited by Julius Rietz, 361 songs in 20 vols., and that of Litolff of Brunswick songs in 10 vols. But neither of these, though styled 'complete,' are so. For instance, each omits ops. 83, 110, 129, 165, 172, 173; the 6 songs published by Müller, the 40 by Gotthard; and Litolff also omits ops. 21, 60. Still, as the nearest to completeness, these have been used as the basis of List No. I. at the end of this article.

Schumann's visit to Vienna in the late autumn of 1838 formed an epoch in the history of the Schubert music. He saw the immense heap of MSS. which remained in Ferdinand's hands even after the mass bought by Diabelli had been taken away, and amongst them several symphonies. Such sympathy and enthusiasm as his must have been a rare delight to the poor desponding brother. His eagle eye soon discovered the worth of these treasures. He picked out several works to be recommended to publishers, but meantime one beyond all the rest rivetted his attention—the great symphony of March 1828 (was it the autograph, not yet deposited in the safe-keeping of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, or a copy?) and he arranged with Ferdinand to send a transcript of it to Leipzig to Mendelssohn for the Gewandhaus Concerts, where it was produced Mar. 21, 1839,^[193] and repeated no less than 3 times during the following season. His chamber-music was becoming gradually known in the North, and as early as 1833 is occasionally met with in the Berlin and Leipzig programmes. David, who led the taste in chamber music at the latter place, was devoted to Schubert. He gradually introduced his works, until there were few seasons in which the Quartets in A minor, D minor (the score of which he edited for Senff ), and G, the String Quintet in C (a special favourite), the Octet, both Trios, the PF. Quintet, and the Rondeau brillant, were not performed amid great applause, at his concerts. Schumann had long been a zealous Schubert propagandist. From an early date his Zeitschrift contains articles of more or less length, always inspired by an ardent admiration; Schubert's letters and poems and his brother's excellent short sketch of his life, printed in vol. x (Ap. 23 to May 3, 1839)—obvious fruits of Schumann's Vienna visit—are indispensable materials for Schubert's biography; when the Symphony was performed he dedicated to it one of his longest and most genial effusions,^[194] and each fresh piece was greeted with a hearty welcome as it fell from the press. One of Schumann's especial favourites was the E♭ Trio; he liked it even better than that in B♭, and has left a memorandum of his fondness in the opening of the Adagio of his Symphony in C, which is identical, in key and intervals, with that of Schubert's Andante. The enthusiasm of these prominent musicians, the repeated performances of the Symphony, and its publication by Breitkopfs (in Jan. 1850), naturally gave Schubert a strong hold on Leipzig, at that time the most active musical centre of Europe; and after the foundation of the Conservatorium in 1843 many English and American students must have carried back the love of his romantic and tuneful music to their own countries.

Several performances of large works had taken place in Vienna since Schubert's death, chiefly through the exertions of Ferdinand, and of a certain Leitermayer, one of Franz's early friends; such as the E♭ Mass at the parish church of Maria Trost on Nov. 15, 1829; Miriam, with Lachner's orchestration, at a Gesellschaft Concert in 1830; two new overtures in 1833; an overture in E, the Chorus of Spirits from Rosamunde, the Grosses Halleluja, etc., early in 1835, and four large concerted pieces from Fierabras later in the year; an overture in D; the finale of the last Symphony; a march and chorus, and an air and chorus, from Fierabras, in April 1836; another new overture, and several new compositions from the 'Remains, 'in the winter of 1837–8. As far as can be judged by the silence of the Vienna newspapers these passed almost unnoticed. Even the competition with North Germany failed to produce the effect which might have been expected. It did indeed excite the Viennese to one effort. On the 15th of the December following the production of the Symphony at Leipzig its performance was attempted at Vienna, but though the whole work was announced,^[195] such had been the difficulties at rehearsal that the first two movements alone were given, and they were only carried off by the interpolation of an air from 'Lucia' between them.

But symphonies and symphonic works can hardly be expected to float rapidly; songs are more buoyant, and Schubert's songs soon began to make their way outside, as they had long since done in his native place. Wherever they once penetrated their success was certain. In Paris, where spirit, melody, and romance are the certain criterions of success, and where nothing dull or obscure is tolerated, they were introduced by Nourrit, and were so much liked as actually to find a transient place in the programmes of the Concerts of the Conservatoire, the stronghold of musical Toryism.^[196] The first French collection was published in 1 834, by Richault, with translation by Bélanger. It contained 6 songs—Die Post, Ständchen, Am Meer, Das Fischermädchen, Der Tod und das Mädchen, and Schlummerlied. The Erl King and others followed. A larger collection, with translation by Emil Deschamps, was issued by Brandus in 1838 or 39. It is entitled 'Collection des Lieder de Franz Schubert,' and contains 16—La jeune religieuse; Marguérite; Le roi des aulnes; La rose; La sérénade; La poste; Ave Maria; La cloche des agonisants; La jeune fille et la mort; Rosemonde; Les plaintes de la jeune fille; Adieu; Les astres; La jeune mere; La berceuse; Eloge des larmes.^[197] Except that one—Adieu^[198]—is spurious, the selection does great credit to Parisian taste. This led the way to the 'Quarante mélodies de Schubert' of Richault, Launer, etc., a thin 8vo. volume, to which many an English amateur is indebted for his first acquaintance with these treasures of life. By 1845 Richault had published as many as 150 with French words.

Some of the chamber music also soon obtained a certain popularity in Paris, through the playing of Tilmant, Urhan, and Alkan, and later of Alard and Franchomme. The Trio in B♭, issued by Richault in 1838, was the first instrumental work of Schubert's published in France. There is a 'Collection compléte' of the solo PF. works, published by Richault in 8vo., containing the Fantaisie (op. 15), 10 sonatas, the two Russian marches, Impromptus, Momens musicals, 5 single pieces, and 9 sets of dances. Liszt and Heller kept the flame alive by their transcriptions of the songs and waltzes. But beyond this the French hardly know more of Schubert now than they did then; none of his large works have become popular with them. Habeneck attempted to rehearse the Symphony in C (No. 10) in 1842, but the band refused to go beyond the first movement, and Schubert's name up to this date (1881) appears in the programmes of the Concerts of the Conservatoire attached to three songs only. M. Pasdeloup has introduced the Symphony in C and the fragments of that in B minor, but they have taken no hold on the Parisian amateurs.

Liszt's devotion to Schubert has been great and unceasing. We have already mentioned his production of Alfonso and Estrella at Weimar in 1854, but it is right to give a list of his transcriptions, which have done a very great deal to introduce Schubert into many quarters where his compositions would otherwise have been a sealed book. His first transcription—Die Rose, op. 73—was made in ^[199]1834, and appeared in Paris the same year. It was followed in 1838 by the Ständchen, Post, and Lob der Thränen, and in 1839 by the Erl King and by 12 Lieder. These again by 6 Lieder; 4 Geistliche Lieder; 6 of the Müllerlieder; the Schwanengesang, and the Winterreise. Liszt has also transcribed the Divertissement à la hongroise, 3 Marches and 9 'Valses-caprices,' or 'Soirées de Vienne,' after Schubert's op. 67. All the above are for PF. solo. He has also scored the accompaniment to the Junge Nonne, Gretchen am Spinnrade, So lasst mich scheinen, and the Erl King, for a small orchestra; has adapted the Allmacht for tenor solo, male chorus, and orchestra, and has converted the Fantasie in C (op. 15) into a Concerto for PF. and orchestra. Some will think these changes indefensible, but there is no doubt that they are done in a masterly manner, and that many of them have become very popular.—Heller's arrangements are confined to 6 favourite songs.

England made an appearance in the field with 2 songs, 'The Letter of flowers' and 'The Secret,' which were published by Mr. Ayrton in 1836 in the Musical Library, to Oxenford's translation. Mr. Wessel (Ashdown & Parry) had begun his 'Series of German Songs' earlier than this, and by 1840, out of a total of 197, the list included 38 of Schubert's, remarkably well chosen, and including several of the finest though less known ones, e.g. Ganymed, An den Tod, Sei mir gegrüsst, Die Rose, etc., etc. Ewer's 'Gems of German Song,' containing many of Schubert's, were begun in 1836. Schubert's music took a long time before it obtained any public footing in this country. The first time it appears in the Philharmonic programmes—then so ready to welcome novelties—is on May 20, 1839, when Ivanoff sang the Serenade in the Schwanengesang to Italian words, 'Quando avvolto.' Staudigl gave the Wanderer, May 8, 1843. On June 10, 1844, the Overture to Fierabras was played under Mendelssohn's direction, and on June 17 the Junge Nonne was sung to French words by M. de Revial, Mendelssohn playing the magnificent accompaniment. We blush to say, however, that neither piece met with approval. The leading critic says that 'the overture is literally beneath criticism: perhaps a more overrated man never existed than this same Schubert.' His dictum on the song is even more unfortunate. He tells us that 'it is a very good exemplification of much ado about nothing—as unmeaningly mysterious as could be desired by the most devoted lover of bombast.' Mendelssohn conducted the last five Philharmonic concerts of that season (1844); and amongst other orchestral music new to England had brought with him Schubert's Symphony in C, and his own overture to Ruy Bias. At the rehearsal however the behaviour of the band towards the symphony—excited, it is said, by the continual triplets in the Finale—was so insulting that he refused either to go on with it or to allow his own overture to be tried.^[200] But the misbehaviour of our leading orchestra did not produce the effect which it had done in Paris; others were found to take up the treasures thus rudely rejected, and Schubert has had an ample revenge. The centres for his music in England have been—for the orchestral and choral works, the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, and Mr. Charles Halle's Concerts, Manchester; and for the chamber music, the Monday and Saturday Popular Concerts and Mr. Halle's Recitals. At the Crystal Palace the Symphony in C (No. 10) has been in the repertoire of the Saturday Concerts since April 5, 1856; the two movements of the B minor Symphony were first played April 6, 1867, and have been constantly repeated. The 6 other MS. Symphonies were obtained from Dr. Schneider in 1867 and since, and have been played at various dates, a performance of the whole eight in chronological order forming a feature in the series of 1880–81. The Rosamunde music was first played Nov. 10, 1866, and has been frequently repeated since. Joachim's orchestration of the Grand Duo (op. 140) was given March 4, 1876. The overtures to Alfonso and Estrella, Fierabras, Freunde von Salaraanka, Teufels Lustschloss, and that 'in the Italian style' are continually heard. Miriam's song was first given Nov. 14, 1868 (and three times since); the Conspirators, March 2, 1872; the 23rd Psalm, Feb. 21, 1874; the E♭ Mass, March 29, 1879. At the Popular Concerts a beginning was made May 16, 1859, with the A minor Quartet, the D major Sonata, and the Rondeau brillant. Since then the D minor and G major Quartets, many sonatas and other PF. pieces have been added, and the Octet, the Quintet in C, and the two Trios are repeated season by season, and enthusiastically received. The Quartet in B♭, a MS. trio in the same key, the Sonata for PF. and Arpeggione, etc. have been brought to a hearing. A large number of songs are familiar to the subscribers to these concerts through the fine interpretation of Stockhausen, Mad. Joachim, Miss,Regan, Miss Sophie Lowe, Mr. Santley, Mr. Henschel, and other singers. At Mr. Halle's admirable recitals at St. James's Hall, since their commencement in 1863 all the published Sonatas have been repeatedly played; not only the popular ones, but of those less known none have been given less than twice; the Fantasia in C, op. 15, three times; the PF. Quintet, the Fantasia for PF. and Violin, the Impromptus and Momens musicals, the '5 pieces,' the '3 pieces,' the Adagio and Rondo, the Valses nobles, and other numbers of this fascinating music have been heard again and again.

The other principal publications in England are the vocal scores of the six Masses, the PF. accompaniment arranged from the full score by Ebenezer Prout, published by Augener & Co.—the 2st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th in 1871, the 6th (E♭) in 1872, and the 5th (A♭) in 1875.^[201] The Masses have been also published by Novellos, both with Latin and English words ('Communion Service'); and the same firm has published Miriam, in two forms, and the Rosamunde music, both vocal score and orchestral parts. Messrs. Augener have also published editions of the PF. works, and of a large number of songs, by Pauer.

Schubert was not sufficiently important during his lifetime to attract the attention of painters, and although he had more than one artist in his circle, there are but three portraits of him known. 1. A poor stiff head by Leopold Kupelwieser, full face, taken July 10, 1821, photographed by Mietke and Wawra of Vienna, and wretchedly engraved as the frontispiece to Kreissle's biography. 2. A very characteristic half-length, 3-quarter-face, in water colours, by W. A. Rieder, taken in 1825, and now in possession of Dr. Granitsch of Vienna.^[202] A replica by the artist, dated 1840, is now in the Musik-Verein. It has been engraved by Passini, and we here give the head, from a photograph expressly taken from the original.

3. The bust on the tomb, which gives a very prosaic version of his features.

His exterior by no means answered to his genius. His general appearance was insignificant. As we have already said, he was probably not more than 5 feet and 1 inch high, his figure was stout and clumsy, with a round back and shoulders (perhaps due to incessant writing), fleshy arms, and thick short fingers. His complexion was pasty, nay even tallowy; his cheeks were full, his eyebrows bushy, and his nose insignificant. But there were two things that to a great extent redeemed these insignificant traits—his hair, which was black, and remarkably thick and ^[203]vigorous, as if rooted in the brain within; and his eyes, which were truly 'the windows of his soul,' and even through the spectacles he constantly wore were so bright as at once to attract attention.^[204] If Rieder's portrait may be trusted—and it is said to be very faithful, though perhaps a little too fine—they had a peculiarly steadfast penetrating look, which irresistibly reminds one of the firm rhythm of his music. His glasses are inseparable from his face. One of our earliest glimpses of him is 'a little boy in spectacles' at the Convict; he habitually slept in them; and within 18 months of his death we see him standing in the window at Döbling, his glasses pushed up over his forehead, and Grillparzers verses held close to his searching eyes. He had the broad strong jaw of all great men, and a marked assertive prominence of the lips. [App. p.768 "He had a beautiful set of teeth (Benedict)."] When at rest the expression of his face was uninteresting, but it brightened up at the mention of music, especially that of Beethoven. His voice was something between a soft tenor and a baritone. He sang 'like a composer,' without the least affectation or attempt.^[205]

His general disposition was in accordance with his countenance. His sensibility, though his music shows it was extreme, was not roused by the small things of life. He had little of that jealous susceptibility which too often distinguishes musicians, more irritable even than the 'irritable race of poets.' His attitude towards Rossini and Weber proves this. When a post which he much coveted was given to ^[206]another, he expressed his satisfaction at its being bestowed on so competent a man. Transparent truthfulness, good-humour, a cheerful contented evenness, fondness for a joke, and a desire to remain in the background—such were his prominent characteristics in ordinary life. But we have seen how this apparently impassive man could be moved by a poem which appealed to him, or by such music as Beethoven's C♯ minor Quartet.^[207] This unfailing good-nature, this sweet loveableness, doubtless enhanced by his reserve, was what attached Schubert to his friends. They admired him; but they loved him still more. Ferdinand perfectly adored him, and even the derisive Ignaz melts when he takes leave.^[208] Hardly a letter from Schwind, Schober, or Bauernfeld, that does not amply testify to this. Their only complaint is that he will not return their passion, that 'the affection of years is not enough to overcome his distrust and fear of seeing himself appreciated and beloved.'^[209] Even strangers who met him in this entourage were as much captivated as his friends. J. A. Berg of Stockholm, who was in Vienna in 1827, as a young man of 24, and met him at the Bogners, speaks of him^[210] with the clinging affection which such personal charm inspires.

He was a born bourgeois, never really at his ease except among his equals and chosen associates. When with them he was genial and compliant. At the dances of his friends he would extemporise the most lovely waltzes for hours together, or accompany song after song. He was even boisterous—playing the Erl King on a comb, fencing, howling, and making many practical jokes. But in good society he was shy and silent, his face grave; a word of praise distressed him, he would repel the admiration when it came, and escape into the next room, or out of the house, at the first possible moment. In consequence he was overlooked, and of his important friends few knew, or showed that they knew, what a treasure they had within their reach. A great player like Bocklet, after performing the B♭ Trio, could kneel to kiss the composer's hand in rapture, and with broken voice stammer forth his homage, but there is no trace of such tribute from the upper classes. What a contrast to Beethoven's position among his aristocratic friends—their devotion and patience, his contemptuous behaviour, the amount of pressing necessary to make him play, his scorn of emotion, and love of applause after he had finished! [See vol. i. p. 168b.] The same contrast is visible in the dedications of the music of the two—Beethoven's chiefly to crowned heads and nobility, Schubert's in large proportion to his friends. It is also evident in the music itself, as we shall endeavour presently to bring out.

He played, as he sang, 'like a composer,' that is, with less of technique than of knowledge and expression. Of the virtuoso he had absolutely nothing. He improvised in the intervals of throwing on his clothes, or at other times when the music within was too strong to be resisted, but as an exhibition or performance never, and there is no record of his playing any music but his own. He occasionally accompanied his songs at concerts (always keeping very strict time), but we never hear of his having extemporised or played a piece in public in Vienna. Notwithstanding the shortness of his fingers, which sometimes got tired,^[211] he could play most of his own pieces, and with such force and beauty as to compel a musician^[212] who was listening to one of his latest Sonatas to exclaim, 'I admire your playing more than your music,' an exclamation susceptible of two interpretations, of which Schubert is said to have taken the unfavourable one. But accompaniment was his forte, and of this we have already spoken [see pp. 342b, 347a etc.]. Duet-playing was a favourite recreation with him. Schober, Gahy, and others, were his companions in this, and Gahy has left on record his admiration of the clean rapid playing, the bold conception and perfect grasp of expression, and the clever droll remarks that would drop from him during the piece.

His life as a rule was regular, even monotonous. He composed or studied habitually for six or seven hours every morning. This was one of the methodical habits which he had learned from his good old father; others were the old-fashioned punctilious style of addressing strangers, which struck Hiller^[213] with such consternation, and the dating of his music. He was ready to write directly he tumbled out of bed, and remained steadily at work till two. 'When I have done one piece I begin the next' was his explanation to a visitor in 1827; and one of these mornings produced six of the songs in the 'Winterreise'! At two he dined—when there was money enough for dinner—either at the Gasthaus, where in those days it cost a 'Zwanziger' (8½d.), or with a friend or patron; and the afternoon was spent in making music, as at Mad. Lacsny Buchwieser's [ p. 347a ], or in walking in the environs of Vienna. If the weather was fine the walk was often prolonged till late, regardless of engagements in town; but if this was not the case, he was at the coffee-house by five, smoking his pipe and ready to joke with any of his set; then came an hour's music, as at Sofie Müller's [ p. 341b ]; then the theatre, and supper at the Gasthaus again, and the coffeehouse, sometimes till far into the morning. In those days no Viennese, certainly no young bachelor, dined at home; so that the repeated visits to the Gasthaus need not shock the sensibilities of any English lover of Schubert. [See p. 345.] Nor let any one be led away with the notion that he was a sot, as some seem prone to believe. How could a sot—how could any one who even lived freely, and woke with a heavy head or a disordered stomach—have worked as he worked, and have composed nearly 1000 such works as his in 18 years, or have performed the feats of rapidity that Schubert did in the way of opera, symphony, quartet, song, which we have enumerated? No sot could write six of the 'Winterreise' songs—perfect, enduring works of art—in one morning, and that no singular feat! Your Morlands and Poes are obliged to wait their time, and produce a few works as their brain and their digestion will allow them, instead of being always ready for their greatest efforts, as Mozart and Schubert were. Schubert—like Mozart—loved society and its accompaniments; he would have been no Viennese if he had not; and he may have been occasionally led away; but such escapades were rare. He does not appear to have cared for the other sex, or to have been attractive to them as Beethoven was, notwithstanding his ugliness. This simplicity curiously characterises his whole life; no feats of memory are recorded of him as they so often are of other great musicians; the records of his life contain nothing to quote. His letters, some forty in all, are evidently forced from him. 'Heavens and Earth,' says he, 'it's frightful having to describe one's travels; I cannot write any more.' 'Dearest friend'—on another occasion—'you will be astonished at my writing: I am so myself.'^[214] Strange contrast to the many interesting epistles of Mozart and Mendelssohn, and the numberless notes of Beethoven! Beethoven was well read, a politician, thought much, and talked eagerly on many subjects. Mozart and Mendelssohn both drew; travelling was a part of their lives; they were men of the world, and Mendelssohn was master of many accomplishments. Schumann too, though a Saxon of Saxons, had travelled much, and while a most prolific composer, was a practised literary man. But Schubert has nothing of the kind to show. He not only never travelled out of Austria, but he never proposed it, and it is difficult to conceive of his doing so. To picture or work of art he very rarely refers. He expressed himself with such difficulty that it was all but impossible to argue with him.^[215] Besides the letters just mentioned, a few pages of diary and four or five poems are all that he produced except his music. In literature his range was wide indeed, but it all went into his music; and he was strangely uncritical. He seems to have been hardly able—at any rate he did not care—to discriminate between the magnificent songs of Goethe, Schiller, and Mayrhofer, the feeble domesticities of Kosegarten and Hölty, and the turgid couplets of the authors of his librettos. All came alike to his omnivorous appetite. But the fact is that, apart from his music, Schubert's life was little or nothing, and that is its most peculiar and most interesting fact. Music and music alone was to him all in all. It was not his principal mode of expression, it was his only one; it swallowed up every other. His afternoon walks, his evening amusements, were all so many preparations for the creations of the following morning. No doubt he enjoyed the country, but the effect of the walk is to be found in his music and his music only. He left, as we have said, no letters to speak of, no journal; there is no record of his ever having poured out his soul in confidence, as Beethoven did in the 'Will,' in the three mysterious letters to some unknown Beloved, or in his conversations with Bettina. He made no impression even on his closest friends beyond that of natural kindness, goodness, truth, and reserve. His life is all summed up in his music. No memoir of Schubert can ever be satisfactory, because no relation can be established between his life and his music; or rather, properly speaking, because there is no life to establish a relation with. The one scale of the balance is absolutely empty, the other is full to overflowing.

For when we come to the music we find everything that was wanting elsewhere. There we have fluency, depth acuteness and variety of expression, unbounded imagination, the happiest thoughts, never-tiring energy, and a sympathetic tenderness beyond belief. And these were the result of natural gifts and of the incessant practice to which they forced him; for it seems certain that of education in music—meaning by education the severe course of training in the mechanical portions of their art to which Mozart and Mendelssohn were subjected—he had little or nothing. As we have already mentioned, the two musicians who professed to instruct him, Holzer and Ruczicka, were so astonished at his ability that they contented themselves with wondering, and allowing him to go his own way. And they are responsible for that want of counterpoint which was an embarrassment to him all his life, and drove him, during his last illness, to seek lessons. [See p. 353 ]. What he learned, he learned mostly for himself, from playing in the Convict orchestra, from incessant writing, and from reading the best scores he could obtain; and, to use the expressive term of his friend Mayrhofer, remained a 'Naturalist' to the end of his life. From the operas of the Italian masters, which were recommended to him by Salieri, he advanced to those of Mozart, and of Mozart abundant traces appear in his earlier instrumental works. In 1814 Beethoven was probably still tabooed in the Convict; and beyond the Prometheus music, and the first two Symphonies, a pupil there would not be likely to encounter anything of his.

To speak first of the orchestral works.

The 1st Symphony dates from 1814 (his 18th year), and between that and 1818 we have five more. These are all much tinctured by what he was hearing and reading—Haydn, Mozart, Rossini, Beethoven (the last but slightly, for reasons just hinted at). Now and then—as in the second subjects of the first and last Allegros of Symphony 1, the first subject of the opening Allegro of Symphony 2, and the Andante of Symphony 5, the themes are virtually reproduced—no doubt unconsciously. The treatment is more his own, especially in regard to the use of the wind instruments, and to the 'working out' of the movements, where his want of education drives him to the repetition of the subject in various keys, and similar artifices, in place of contrapuntal treatment. In the slow movement and Finale of the Tragic Symphony, No. 4, we have exceedingly happy examples, in which, without absolutely breaking away from the old world, Schubert has revealed an amount of original feeling and an extraordinary beauty of treatment which already stamp him as a great orchestral composer. But whether always original or not in their subjects, no one can listen to these first six Symphonies without being impressed with their individuality. Single phrases may remind us of other composers, the treatment may often be traditional, but there is a fluency and continuity, a happy cheerfulness, an earnestness and want of triviality, and an absence of labour, which proclaim a new composer. The writer is evidently writing because what he has to say must come out, even though he may occasionally couch it in the phrases of his predecessors. Beauty and profusion of melody reign throughout. The tone is often plaintive but never obscure, and there is always the irrepressible gaiety of youth and of Schubert's own Viennese nature, ready and willing to burst forth. His treatment of particular instruments, especially the wind, is already quite his own—a happy conversational way which at a later period becomes highly characteristic. At length, in the B minor Symphony (Oct. 30, 1822), we meet with something which never existed in the world before in orchestral music—a new class of thoughts and a new mode of expression which distinguish him entirely from his predecessors, characteristics which are fully maintained in the Rosamunde music (Christmas 1823), and culminate in the great C major Symphony (March 1828).

The same general remarks apply to the other instrumental compositions—the quartets and PF. sonatas. These often show a close adherence to the style of the old school, but are always effective and individual, and occasionally, like the symphonies, varied by original and charming movements, as the Trio in the E♭ Quartet, or the Minuet and Trio in the E major one (op. 125, 1 and 2), the Sonata in A minor (1817) etc. The visit to Zelész in 1824, with its Hungarian experiences, and the pianoforte proclivities of the Esterhazys, seems to have given him a new impetus in the direction of chamber music. It was the immediate or proximate cause of the 'Grand Duo'—that splendid work in which, with Beethoven in his eye, Schubert was never more himself—and the Divertissement à la hongroise; as well as the beautiful and intensely personal String Quartet in A minor, which has been not wrongly said to be the most characteristic work of any composer; ultimately also of the D minor and G major Quartets, the String Quintet in C, and the three last Sonatas, in all of which the Hungarian element is strongly perceptible—all the more strongly because we hardly detect it at all in the songs and vocal works.

Here then, at 1822 in the orchestral works, and 1824 in the chamber music, we may perhaps draw the line between Schubert's mature and immature compositions. The step from the Symphony in C of 1818 to the Unfinished Symphony in B minor, or to the Rosamunde Entracte in the same key, is quite as great as Beethoven's was from No. 2 to the Eroica, or Mendelssohn's from the C minor to the Italian Symphony. All trace of his predecessors is gone, and he stands alone in his own undisguised and pervading personality. All trace of his youth has gone too. Life has become serious, nay cruel; and a deep earnestness and pathos animate all his utterances. Similarly in the chamber-music, the Octet stands on the line, and all the works which have made their position and are acknowledged as great are on this side of it—the Grand Duo, the Divertissement Hongroise, the PF. Sonatas in A minor, D, and B♭, the Fantasie-Sonata in G; the Impromptus and Momens musicals; the String Quartets in A minor, D minor, and G; the String Quintet in C; the Rondo brillant,—in short, all the works which the world thinks of when it mentions 'Schubert' (we are speaking now of instrumental music only) are on this side of 1822. On the other side of the line, in both cases, orchestra and chamber, are a vast number of works full of beauty, interest, and life; breathing youth in every bar, absolute Schubert in many movements or passages, but not completely saturated with him, not of sufficiently independent power to assert their rank with the others, or to compensate for the diffuseness and repetition which remained characteristics of their author to the last, but which in the later works are hidden or atoned for by the astonishing force, beauty, romance, and personality inherent in the contents of the music. These early works will always be more than interesting; and no lover of Schubert but must regard them with the strong affection and fascination which his followers feel for every bar he wrote. But the judgment of the world at large will probably always remain what it now is.

He was, as Liszt so finely ^[216]said, 'le musicien le plus poète que jamais'—the most poetical musician that ever was; and the main characteristics of his music will always be its vivid personality, fullness, and poetry. In the case of other great composers, the mechanical skill and ingenuity, the very ease and absence of effort with which many of their effects are produced, or their pieces constructed, is a great element in the pleasure produced by their music. Not so with Schubert. In listening to him one is never betrayed into exclaiming 'how clever!' but very often 'how poetical, how beautiful, how intensely Schubert!' The impression produced by his great works is that the means are nothing and the effect everything. Not that he had no technical skill. Counterpoint he was deficient in, but the power of writing whatever he wanted he had absolutely at his fingers' end. No one had ever written more, and the notation of his ideas must have been done without an effort. In the words of Mr. Macfarren,^[217] 'the committing his works to paper was a process that accompanied their composition like the writing of an ordinary letter that is indited at the very paper.' In fact we know, if we had not the manuscripts to prove it, that he wrote with the greatest ease and rapidity, and could keep up a conversation, not only while writing down but while inventing his best works; that he never hesitated; very rarely revised—it would often have been better if he had; and never seems to have aimed at making innovations or doing things for effect. For instance, in the number and arrangement of the movements, his symphonies and sonatas never depart from the regular Haydn pattern. They rarely show æsthetic artifices, such as quoting the theme of one movement in another movement, or running them into each other; [App. p.768 "the sentence beginning 'They show no æsthetic artifices,' etc., is not correct. See the 'Rondo brillante,' op. 70, where part of the introduction is quoted in the Rondo: also in op. 100 the subject of the slow movement is introduced into the Finale, and others"] changing their order, or introducing extra ones; mixing various times simultaneously—or similar mechanical means of producing unity or making novel effects, which often surprise and please us in Beethoven, Schumann, Mendelssohn and Spohr. Not an instance of this is to be found in Schubert. Nor has he ever indicated a programme, or prefixed a motto to any of his works. His matter is so abundant and so full of variety and interest that he never seems to think of enhancing it by any devices. He did nothing to extend the formal limits of Symphony or Sonata, but he endowed them with a magic, a romance, a sweet naturalness, which no one has yet approached. And as in the general structure so in the single movements. A simple canon, as in the E♭ Trio, the Andante of the B minor or the Scherzo of the C major Symphonies; an occasional round, as in the Masses and Part-songs; such is pretty nearly all the science that he affords. His vocal fugues are notoriously weak, and the symphonies rarely show those piquant fugatos which are so delightful in Beethoven and Mendelssohn. On the other hand, in all that is necessary to express his thoughts and feelings, and to convey them to the hearer, he is inferior to none. Such passages as the return to the subject in the Andante of the B minor Symphony, or in the ballet air in G of Rosamunde; as the famous horn passage in the Andante of the C major Symphony (No. 10)—which Schumann happily compares to a being from the other world gliding about the orchestra—or the equally beautiful cello solo further on in the same movement, are unsurpassed in orchestral music for felicity and beauty, and have an emotional effect which no learning could give. There is a place in the working-out of the Rosamunde Entracte in B minor (change into G♯), in which the combination of modulation and scoring produces a weird and overpowering feeling quite exceptional, and the change to the major near the end of the same great work will always astonish. One of the most prominent beauties in these orchestral works is the exquisite and entirely fresh manner in which the wind instruments are combined. Even in his earliest Symphonies he begins that method of dialogue by interchange of phrases, which rises at last to the well-known and lovely passages in the Overture to Rosamunde (and subject), the Trios of the B♭ Entracte, and the Air de Ballet in the same music, and in the Andantes of the 8th and 10th Symphonies. No one has ever combined wind instruments as these are combined. To quote Schumann once more—they talk and intertalk like human beings. It is no artful concealment of art. The artist vanishes altogether, and the loving, simple, human friend remains. It were well to be dumb in articulate speech with such a power of utterance at command! If anything were wanting to convince us of the absolute inspiration of such music as this it would be the fact that Schubert never can have heard either of the two Symphonies which we have just been citing.—But to return to the orchestra. The trombones were favourite instruments with Schubert in his later life. In the fugal movements of his two last Masses he makes them accompany the voices in unison, with a persistence which is sometimes almost unbearable for its monotony. In portions of the C major Symphony also (No. 10) some may possibly find them too much 'used. But in ^[218]other parts of the Masses they are beautifully employed, and in the Introduction and Allegro of the Symphony they are used with a noble effect, which not improbably suggested to Schumann the equally impressive use of them in his B♭ Symphony. The accompaniments to his subjects are always of great ingenuity and originality, and full of life and character. The triplets in the Finale to the 10th Symphony, which excited the mal à propos merriment of the Philharmonic orchestra (see p. 358) are a very striking instance. Another is the incessant run of semiquavers in the second violins and violas which accompany the second theme in the Finale of the Tragic Symphony. Another, of which he is very fond, is the employment of a recurring monotonous figure in the inner parts:—

or

often running to great length, as in the Andantes of the Tragic and B minor Symphonies; the Moderato of the B♭ Sonata; the fine song 'Viola' (op. 123, at the return to A♭ in the middle of the song) etc. etc. In his best PF. music, the accompaniments are most happily fitted to the leading part, so as never to clash or produce discord. Rapidly as he wrote he did these things as if they were calculated. But they never obtrude themselves or become prominent. They are all merged and absorbed in the gaiety, pathos and personal interest of the music itself, and of the man who is uttering through it his griefs and joys, his hopes and fears, in so direct and touching a manner as no composer ever did before or since, and with no thought of an audience, of fame, or success, or any other external thing. No one who listens to it can doubt that Schubert wrote for himself alone. His music is the simple utterance of the feelings with which his mind is full. If he had thought of his audience, or the effect he would produce, or the capabilities of the means he was employing, he would have taken more pains in the revision of his works. Indeed the most affectionate disciple of Schubert must admit that the want of revision is often but too apparent.

In his instrumental music he is often very diffuse. When a passage pleases him he generally repeats it at once, almost note for note. He will reiterate a passage over and over in different keys, as if he could never have done. In the songs this does not offend; and even here, if we knew what he was thinking of, as we do in the songs, we might possibly find the repetitions just. In the E♭ Trio he repeats in the Finale a characteristic accompaniment which is very prominent in the first movement and which originally belongs perhaps to the A♭ Impromptu (op. 90, no. 4) and a dozen other instances of the same kind might be quoted.^[219] This arose in great part from his imperfect education, but in great part also from the furious pace at which he dashed down his thoughts and feelings, apparently without previous sketch, note, or preparation; and from his habit of never correcting a piece after it was once on paper. Had he done so he would doubtless have taken out many a repetition, and some trivialities which seem terribly out of place amid the usual nobility and taste of his thoughts. It was doubtless this diffuseness and apparent want of aim, as well as the jolly, untutored, naïveté of some of his subjects (Rondo of D major Sonata, etc.), and the incalculable amount of modulation, that made Mendelssohn shrink from some of Schubert's instrumental works, and even go so far as to call the D minor quartet schlechte Musik—i.e. 'nasty music.' But unless to musicians whose fastidiousness is somewhat abnormal—as Mendelssohn's was—such criticisms only occur afterwards, on reflection; for during the progress of the work all is absorbed in the intense life and personality of the music. And what beauties there are to put against these redundances! Take such movements as the first Allegro of the A minor Sonata or the B♭ Sonata; the G major Fantasia-Sonata; the two Characteristic Marches; the Impromptus and Momens musicals; the Minuet of the A minor Quartet; the Variations of the D minor Quartet; the Finale of the B♭ Trio; the first two movements, or the Trio, of the String Quintet; the two movements of the B minor Symphony, or the wonderful Entracte in the same key in Rosamunde; the Finale of the 10th Symphony—think of the abundance of the thoughts, the sudden surprises, the wonderful transitions, the extraordinary pathos of the turns of melody and modulation, the absolute manner (to repeat once more) in which they bring you into contact with the affectionate, tender, suffering personality of the composer,—and who in the whole realm of music has ever approached them? For the magical expression of such a piece as the Andantino in A♭ (op. 94, no. 2), any redundance may be pardoned.

In Schumann's ^[220]words, 'he has strains for the most subtle thoughts and feelings, nay even for the events and conditions of life; and innumerable as are the shades of human thought and action, so various is his music.' Another equally true saying of Schumann's is that, compared with Beethoven, Schubert is as a woman to a man. For it must be confessed that one's attitude towards him is almost always that of sympathy, attraction, and love, rarely that of embarrassment or fear. Here and there only, as in the Rosamunde B minor Entracte, or the Finale of the 10th Symphony, does he compel his hearers with an irresistible power; and yet how different is this compulsion from the strong, fierce, merciless coercion, with which Beethoven forces you along, and bows and bends you to his will, in the Finale of the 8th or still more that of the 7th Symphony.

We have mentioned the gradual manner in which Schubert reached his own style in instrumental music (see p. 361). In this, except perhaps as to quantity, there is nothing singular, or radically different from the early career of other composers. Beethoven began on the lines of Mozart, and Mendelssohn on those of Weber, and gradually found their own independent style. But the thing in which Schubert stands alone is that while he was thus arriving by degrees at individuality in Sonatas, Quartets, and Symphonies, he was pouring forth songs by the dozen, many of which were of the greatest possible novelty, originality, and mastery, while all of them have that peculiar cachet which is immediately recognisable as his. The chronological list of his works given at the end of this article shows that such masterpieces as the Gretchen am Spinnrade, the Erl King, the Ossian Songs, Gretchen im Dom, Der Taucher, Die Bürgschaft, were written before he was 19, and were contemporary with his very early efforts in the orchestra and chamber music; and that by 1822—in the October of which he wrote the two movements of his 8th Symphony, which we have named as his first absolutely original instrumental music—he had produced in addition such ballads as Ritter Toggenburg (1816), and Einsamkeit (1818); such classical songs as Memnon (1817), Antigone und Œdip (1817), Iphigenia (1817), Ganymed (1817), Fahrt zum Hades (1817), Prometheus (1819), Gruppe aus dem Tartarus (1817); Goethe's Wilhelm Meister songs, An Schwager Kronos (1816), Grenzen der Menschheit (1821), Suleika's two songs (1821), Geheimes (1821); as well as the 'Wanderer' (1816), 'Sei mir gegrüsst' (1821), Waldesnacht (1820), Greisengesang (1822), and many more of his very greatest and most immortal songs.

And this is very confirmatory of the view already taken in this article (p. 328) of Schubert's relation to music. The reservoir of music was within him from his earliest years, and songs being so much more direct a channel than the more complicated and artificial courses and conditions of the symphony or the sonata, music came to the surface in them so much the more quickly. Had the orchestra or the piano been as direct a mode of utterance as the voice, and the forms of symphony or sonata as simple as that of the song, there seems no reason why he should not have written instrumental music as characteristic as his 8th Symphony, his Sonata in A minor, and his Quartet in the same key, eight years earlier than he did; for the songs of that early date prove that he had then all the original power, imagination, and feeling, that he ever had. That it should have been given to a comparative boy to produce strains which seem to wreathe the emotion and experience of a long life is only part of the wonder which will also surround Schubert's songs. After 1822, when his youth was gone, and health had begun to fail, and life had become a terrible reality, his thoughts turned inwards, and he wrote the two great cycles of the 'Müllerlieder' (1823) and the 'Winterreise' (1827); the Walter Scott and Shakspeare songs; the splendid single songs of 'Im Walde' and 'Auf der Brücke,' 'Todtengräbers Heimweh,' 'Der Zwerg,' 'Die junge Nonne'; the Barcarolle, 'Du bist die ruh,' and the lovely 'Dass sie hier gewesen'; the 'Schiffers Scheidelied,' those which were collected into the so-called 'Schwanengesang,' and many more.

It is very difficult to draw a comparison between the songs of this later period and those of the earlier one, but the difference must strike every one, and it resides mainly perhaps in the subjects themselves. Subjects of romance—of ancient times and remote scenes, and strange adventures, and desperate emotion—are natural to the imagination of youth. But in maturer life the mind is calmer, and dwells more strongly on personal subjects. And this is the case with Schubert. After 1822 the classical songs and ballads are rare, and the themes which he chooses belong chiefly to modern life and individual feeling, such as the 'Müllerlieder' and the 'Winterreise,' and others in the list just given. Walter Scott's and Shakspeare's form an exception, but it is an exception which explains itself. We no longer have the exuberant dramatic force of the Erl King, Ganymed, the Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, Cronnan, or Kolmas Klage; but we have instead the condensation and personal point of 'Pause,' 'Die Post,' 'Das Wirthshaus,' 'Die Nebensonnen,' the 'Doppelganger,' and the 'Junge Nonne.' And there is more maturity in the treatment. His modulations are fewer. His accompaniments are always interesting and suggestive, but they gain in force and variety and quality of ideas in the later songs.

In considering the songs themselves somewhat more closely, their most obvious characteristics are:—Their number; their length; the variety of the words; their expression, and their other musical and poetical peculiarities.

1. Their number. The published songs, that is to say the compositions for one and two voices, including Offertories and songs in operas, amount to just 455. In addition there are, say, 150 unpublished songs, a few of them unfinished. The chronological list at the end of this article shows that a very large number of these were written before the year 1818.

2. Their length. This varies very much. The shortest, like 'Klage um Aly Bey' (Lf. xlv. 3), 'Der Goldschmiedsgesell' (Lf. xlviii. 6), and 'Die Spinnerin' (op. 118, 6), are strophe songs (that is, with the same melody and harmony unchanged verse after verse), in each of which the voice part is only 8 bars long, with a bar or two of introduction or ritornel. The longest is Bertrand's 'Adelwold und Emma' (MS., June 5, 1815), a ballad the autograph of which contains 55 pages. Others of almost equal length and of about the same date are also still in MS.—'Minona,' 'Die Nonne,' 'Amphiaraos,' etc. The longest printed one is Schiller's 'Der Taucher'—the diver. This fills 36 pages of close print. Schiller's 'Burgschaft' and the Ossian-songs are all long, though not of the same extent as 'Der Taucher.' These vast ballads are extremely dramatic; they contain many changes of tempo and of signature, dialogues, recitatives, and airs. The 'Ritter Toggenburg' ends with a strophe-song in five stanzas. 'Der Taucher' contains a long pianoforte passage of 60 bars, during the suspense after the diver's last descent. 'Der Liedler' contains a march. The Ballads mostly belong to the early years, 1815, 1816. The last is Mayrhofer's 'Einsamkeit,' the date of which Schubert has fixed in his letter of Aug. 3, 1818. There are long songs of later years, such as Collin's 'Der Zwerg' of 1823; Schober's 'Viola' and 'Vergissmeinnicht' of 1823, and 'Schiffers Scheidelied' of 1827, and Leitner's 'Der Winterabend' of 1828; but these are essentially different to the ballads; they are lyrical, and evince comparatively few mechanical changes.

It stands to reason that in 650 songs collected from all the great German poets, from Klopstock to Heine, there must be an infinite variety of material, form, sentiment, and expression. And one of the most obvious characteristics in Schubert's setting of this immense collection is the close way in which he adheres to the words.^[221] Setting a song was no casual operation with him, rapidly as it was often done; but he identified himself with the poem, and the poet's mood for the time was his. Indeed he complains of the influence which the gloom of the 'Winterreise' had had upon his spirits. He does not, as is the manner of some song-composers, set the poet at naught by repeating his words over and over again. This he rarely does; but he goes through his poem and confines himself to enforcing the expression as music alone can do to poetry. The music changes with the words as a landscape does when sun and cloud pass over it. And in this Schubert has anticipated Wagner, since the words to which he writes are as much the absolute basis of his songs, as Wagner's librettos are of his operas. What this has brought him to in such cases as the Erl King, the Wanderer, Schwager Kronos, the Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, the Shakspeare songs of 'Sylvia' and 'Hark, hark, the lark!' those of Ellen and the Huntsman in 'The Lady of the Lake' even Englishmen can judge; but what he did in the German literature generally may be gathered from the striking passage already quoted from Vogl (p. 327b), and from Mayrhofer's confession—doubly remarkable when coming from a man of such strong individuality—who somewhere says that he did not understand the full force even of his own poems until he had heard Schubert's setting of them.

One of his great means of expression is modulation. What magic this alone can work may be seen in the Trio of the Sonata in D. As in his PF. works, so in the songs, he sometimes carries it to an exaggerated degree. Thus in the short song 'Liedesend' of Mayrhofer (Sept. 1816), he begins in C minor, and then goes quickly through E♭ into C♭ major. The signature then changes and we are at once in D major; then C major. Then the signature again changes to that of A♭, in which we remain for 15 bars. From A♭ it is an easy transition to F minor, but a very sudden one from that again to A minor. Then for the breaking of the harp we are forced into D♭, and immediately, with a further change of signature, into F♯. Then for the King's song, with a fifth change of signature, into B major; and lastly, for the concluding words,

Und immer näher schreitet
Vergänglichkeit und Grab—

And always nearer hasten
Oblivion and the tomb—

a sixth change, with 8 bars in E minor, thus ending the song a third higher than it began.

In Schiller's 'Der Pilgrim' (1825), after two strophes (four stanzas) of a chorale-like melody in D major, we come, with the description of the difficulties of the pilgrim's road—mountains, torrents, ravines—to a change into D minor, followed by much extraneous modulation, reaching A♭ minor, and ending in F, in which key the first melody is repeated. At the words 'näher bin ich nicht zum Ziel'—'still no nearer to my goal'—we have a similar phrase and similar harmony (though in a different key) to the well-known complaint in 'The Wanderer,' 'Und immer fragt der Seufzer, Wo?'—'Sighing I utter where? oh where?' The signature then changes, and the song ends very impressively in B minor.

These two are quoted, the first as an instance rather of exaggeration, the second of the mechanical use of modulations to convey the natural difficulties depicted in the poem. But if we want examples of the extraordinary power with which Schubert wields this great engine of emotion, we would mention another song which contains one of the best instances to be found of propriety of modulation. I allude to Schubart's short poem to Death, 'An den Tod,' where the gloomy subject and images of the poet have tempted the composer to a series of successive changes so grand, so sudden, and yet so easy, and so thoroughly in keeping with the subject, that it is impossible to hear them unmoved.

But modulation, though an all-pervading means of expression in Schubert's hands, is only one out of many. Scarcely inferior to the wealth of his modulation is the wealth of his melodies. The beauty of these is not more astonishing than their variety and their fitness to the words. Such tunes as those of Ave Maria, or the Serenade in the Schwanengesang, or Ungeduld, or the Grünen Lautenband, or Anna Lyle, or the Dithyrambe, or Geheimes, or Sylvia, or the Lindenbaum, or Du bist die Ruh, or the Barcarolle, are not more lovely and more appropriate to the text than they are entirely different from one another. One quality only, spontaneity, they have in common. With Beethoven, spontaneity was the result of labour, and the more he polished the more natural were his tunes. But Schubert read the poem, and the appropriate tune, married to immortal verse (a marriage, in his case, truly made in heaven), rushed into his mind, and to the end of his pen. It must be confessed that he did not always think of the compass of his voices. In his latest songs, as in his earliest (see p. 321a), we find him taking the singer from the low B♭ to F, and even higher.

The tune, however, in a Schubert song is by no means an exclusive feature. The accompaniments are as varied and as different as the voice-parts, and as important for the general effect. They are often extremely elaborate, and the publishers' letters contain many complaints of their difficulty.^[222] They are often most extraordinarily suitable to the words, as in the Erl King, or the beautiful 'Dass sie hier gewesen,' the 'Gruppe ausdem Tartarus,' the 'Waldesnacht' (and many others); where it is almost impossible to imagine any atmosphere more exactly suitable to make the words grow in one's mind, than is supplied by the accompaniment. Their unerring certainty is astonishing. Often, as in Heliopolis, or Auflösung, he seizes at once on a characteristic impetuous figure, which is then carried on without intermission to the end. In 'Anna Lyle,' how exactly does the sweet monotony of the repeated figure fall in with the dreamy sadness of Scott's touching little lament! Another very charming example of the same thing, though in a different direction, is found in 'Der Einsame,' a fireside piece, where the frequently-recurring group of four semiquavers imparts an indescribable air of domesticity to the picture.^[223] In the 'Winterabend'—the picture of a calm moonlit evening—the accompaniment, aided by a somewhat similar little figure, conveys inimitably the very breath of the scene. Such atmospheric effects as these are very characteristic of Schubert.

The voice-part and the accompaniment sometimes form so perfect a whole, that it is impossible to disentangle the two; as in 'Sylvia,' where the persistent dotted quaver in the bass, and the rare but delicious ritornel of two notes in the treble of the piano-part (bars 7, 14, etc.), are essential to the grace and sweetness of the portrait, and help to place the lovely English figure before us. This is the case also in 'Anna Lyle' just mentioned, where the ritornel in the piano-part (bar 20, etc.) is inexpressibly soothing and tender in its effect, and sounds like the echo of the girl's sorrow. The beautiful Serenade in the Schwanengesang, again, combines an incessant rhythmical accompaniment with ritornels (longer than those in the last case), both uniting with the lovely melody in a song of surpassing beauty. In the 'Liebesbothschaft,' the rhythm is not so strongly marked, but the ritornels are longer and more frequent, and form a charming feature in that exquisite love-poem. Schubert's passion for rhythm comes out as strongly in many of the songs as it does in his marches and scherzos. In the two just named, though persistent throughout, the rhythm is subordinated to the general effect. But in others, as 'Suleika,' 'Die Sterne,' the 'Nachtgesang im Walde,' 'Erstarrung,' or 'Frühlingssehnsucht,' it forces itself more on the attention.

Schubert's basses are always splendid, and are so used as not only to be the basis of the harmony but to add essentially to the variety and effect of the songs. Sometimes, as in 'Die Krahe,' they are in unison with the voice-part. Often they share with the voice-part itself in the melody and structure of the whole. The wealth of ideas which they display is often astonishing. Thus in 'Waldesnacht,' a very long song of 1820, to a fine imaginative poem by F. Schlegel, describing the impressions produced by a night in the forest, we have a splendid example of the organic life which Schubert can infuse into a song. The pace is rapid throughout; the accompaniment for the right hand is in arpeggios of semiquavers throughout, never once leaving off; the left hand, where not in semiquavers also, has a succession of noble and varied rhythmical melodies, independent of the voice, and the whole is so blended with the voice part—itself extraordinarily broad and dignified throughout; the spirit and variety, and the poetry of the whole are so remarkable, and the mystery of the situation is so perfectly conveyed, as to make the song one of the finest of that class in the whole Schubert collection. The same qualities will be found in Auf der Brücke (1825).

We do not say that this is the highest class of his songs. The highest class of poetry, and of music illustrating and enforcing poetry, must always deal with human joys and sorrows, in their most individual form, with the soul loving or longing, in contact with another soul, or with its Maker; and the greatest of Schubert's songs will lie amongst those which are occupied with those topics, such as 'Gretchen am Spinnrade,' the Mignon songs, the 'Wanderer,' the 'Müllerlieder,' and 'Winterreise,' and perhaps highest of all, owing to the strong religious element which it contains, the 'Junge Nonne.'^[224] In that wonderful song, which fortunately is so well known that no attempt at describing it is necessary, the personal feelings and the surroundings are so blended—the fear, the faith, the rapture, the storm, the swaying of the house, are so given, that for the time the hearer becomes the Young Nun herself. Even the convent bell, which in other hands might be a burlesque, is an instrument of the greatest beauty.

We have spoken of the mental atmosphere which Schubert throws round his poems; but he does not neglect the representation of physical objects. He seems to confine himself to the imitation of natural noises, and not to attempt things which have no sound. The triplets in the Lindenbaum may be intended to convey the fluttering leaves of the lime-tree, and the accompaniment-figure in 'Die Forelle' may represent the leaps of the Trout; but there are other objects about which no mistake can be made. One imitation of the bell we have just referred to. Another is in the 'Abendbilder,' where an F♯ sounds through 16 bars to represent the 'evening bell'; in the Zügenglöcklein the upper E is heard through the whole piece; and the bell of St. Mark's is a well-known feature in the part-song of the 'Gondelfahrer.' The posthorn forms a natural feature in 'Die Post,' and the hurdy-gurdy in 'Der Leiermann.' Of birds he gives several instances; the Nightingale in 'Ganymed' and 'Die gefangene Sänger'; the Raven in 'Abendbilder,' and perhaps in 'Frühlingstraum'; the Cuckoo in 'Einsamkeit,' the Quail in 'Der Wachtelschlag'; and the Cock in 'Frühlingstraum.'

That hesitation between major and minor which is so marked in Beethoven is characteristic also of Schubert, and may be found in nearly every piece of his. A beautiful instance may be mentioned en passant in the trio of the G major Fantasia Sonata (op. 78), where the two bars in E minor which precede the E major have a peculiarly charming effect. Another is supplied by the four bars in A minor, for the question which begins and ends the beautiful fragment from Schiller's 'Gods of ancient Greece.' He also has an especially happy way—surely peculiarly his own—of bringing a minor piece to a conclusion in the major. Two instances of it, which all will remember, are in the Romance from 'Rosamunde':—

and in the 'Moment musical,' No. 3, in F minor. This and the ritornels already spoken of strike one like personal features or traits of the composer. But apart from these idiosyncrasies, the changes from minor to major in the songs are often superb. That in the 'Schawager Kronos' (astonishing ^[225]production for a lad under 20), where the key changes into D major, and further on into F major, to welcome the girl on the threshold, with the sudden return to D minor for the onward journey, and the sinking sun—can be forgotten by no one who hears it, nor can that almost more beautiful change to D major in the 'Gute Nacht' on the mention of the dream. This latter, and the noble transition to F major in the 'Junge Nonne' are too familiar to need more than a passing reference, or that to G major in the 'Rückblick,' for the lark and nightingale and the girl's eyes, or to D major in the Serenade. 'Irdisches Glück' is in alternate stanzas of major and minor. In Schiller's 'Rose' (op. 73) every shade in the fate of the flower is thus indicated; and this is no solitary instance, but in almost every song some example of such faithful paintinG may be found. A word will often do it. With Schubert the minor mode seems to be synonymous with trouble, and the major with relief; and the mere mention of the sun, or a smile, of any other emblem of gladness, is sure to make him modulate. Some such image was floating before his mind when he made the beautiful change to A major near the beginning of the A minor Quartet (bar 23).

The foregoing remarks, which only attempt to deal with a few of the external characteristics of these astonishing songs, will be of use if they only encourage the knowledge and study of them. The chronological list (No. II) of Schubert's productions, which is here attempted in this form for the first time, will, it is hoped, throw much light on the progress of his genius, by facilitating the search where alone it can be made with profit, namely in the works themselves. All are worth knowing, though all are by no means of equal excellence.

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I end my imperfect sketch of the life and works of this wonderful musician, by recalling the fact that Schubert's songs, regarded as a department of music, are absolutely and entirely his own. Songs there were before him, those of Schulz for instance, and of Zumsteeg, which he so greatly admired, and of Haydn and Mozart—touching, beautiful expressions of simple thought and feeling. But the Song, as we know it in his hands; full of dramatic fire, poetry, and pathos; set to no simple Volkslieder, but to long complex poems, the best poetry of the greatest poets, and an absolute reflection of every change and breath of sentiment in that poetry; with an accompaniment of the utmost force, fitness, and variety—such songs were his and his alone. With one exception. Beethoven left but one song of importance, his 'Liederkreis' (op. 98), but that is of superlative excellence. The Liederkreis, however, was not published till Dec. 1816, and even if Schubert made its acquaintance immediately, yet a reference to the Chronological List will show that by that time his style was formed, and many of his finest songs written. He may have gained the idea of a connected series of songs from Beethoven, though neither the 'Schöne Müllerin' nor the 'Winterreise' have the same intimate internal connexion as the Liederkreis; but the character and merits of the single songs remain his own. When he wrote 'Loda's Gespenst' and 'Kolma's Klage' in 1815, he wrote what no one had ever attempted before. There is nothing to detract from his just claim to be the creator of German Song, as we know it, and the direct progenitor of those priceless treasures in which Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Brahms have followed his example.

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Of Schubert's religion it is still more difficult to say anything than it was of Beethoven's, because he is so much more reticent. A little poem of Sept. 1820, one of two preserved by Robert Schumann (Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Feb. 5, 1839) is as vague a confession of faith as can well be imagined.

THE SPIRIT OF THE WORLD.

Leave them, leave them, to their dream,

⁠I hear the Spirit say:—
It and only it can keep them
⁠Near me on their darkling way.

Leave them racing, hurrying on
⁠To some distant goal,
Building creeds and proofs upon
⁠Half-seen flashes in the soul.

Not a word of it is true.
⁠Yet what loss is theirs or mine?
In the maze of human systems
⁠I can trace the thought divine.

The other, three years later, May 8, 1823, is somewhat more definite. It calls upon a 'mighty father' to look upon his son lying in the dust; and implores Him to pour upon him the everlasting beams of His love; and, even though He kill him, to preserve him for a purer and more vigorous existence. It expresses—very imperfectly, it is true, but still unmistakeably the same faith that has been put into undying words by the great poet of our own day:—

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust;
⁠Thou madest man, he knows not why;
⁠He thinks he was not made to die;
And Thou hast made him: Thou art just.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
⁠But more of reverence in us dwell,
⁠That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster.^[226]

Franz may not have gone the length of his brother Ignaz^[227] in vulgar scoffing at religious forms and persons, which no doubt were very empty in Vienna at that date; but still of formal or dogmatic religion we can find no traces, and we must content ourselves with the practical piety displayed in his love for his father and Ferdinand, and testified to by them in their touching words and acts at the time of his death (p. 354a); and with the certainty that, though irregular after the irregularity of his time, Schubert was neither selfish, sensual, nor immoral. What he was in his inner man we have the abundant evidence of his music to assure us. Whatever the music of other composers may do, no one ever rose from hearing a piece by Schubert without being benefited by it. Of his good-nature to those who took the bread out of his mouth we lave already spoken. Of his modesty we may be allowed to say that he was one of the very few musicians who ever lived who did not behave as if he thought himself the greatest man in the world.^[228] And these things are all intrinsic parts if his character and genius.

That he died at an earlier age^[229] even than Mozart or Mendelssohn, or our own Purcell, must be accounted for on the ground partly of his extraordinary exertions, but still more of the privations to which he was subjected from his very earliest years. His productions are enormous, even when measured by those of the two great German composers just named, or even of Beethoven, who lived to nearly double his years. At an age when Beethoven had produced one Symphony, he had written ten, besides all the mass of works great and small which form the extraordinary list in the Appendix to this article. 'Fairer hopes'? Had he lived, who can doubt that he would have thrown into the shade all his former achievements? But as we have endeavoured to explain, his music came so easily and rapidly that it was probably not exhausting. It was his privations, his absolute poverty, and the distress which he naturally felt at finding that no exertions could improve his circumstances, or raise him in the scale of existence, that in the end dragged him down. His poverty is shocking to think of. Nearly the first distinct glimpse we catch of him is in the winter of 1812, supplicating his brother for a roll, some apples, or a few halfpence, to keep off the hunger of the long fast in the freezing rooms of the Convict. Within a year of his death we catch sight of him again, putting up with coffee and biscuits because he has not 8½d. to buy his dinner with; selling his great Trio for 17s. 6d. and his songs at 10d. each, and dying the possessor of effects which were valued at little more than two pounds. Beside this the poverty of Mozart—the first of the two great musicians whom Vienna has allowed to starve—was wealth.

Such facts as these reduce the so-called friendship of his associates to its right level. With his astonishing power of production the commonest care would have ensured him a good living; and that no one of his set was found devoted enough to take this care for him, and exercise that watch over ways and means which Nature had denied to his own genius, is a discredit to them all. They prate of their devotion to their friend, when not one of them had the will or the wit to prevent him from starving; for such want as he often endured must inevitably have injured him, and we cannot doubt that his death was hastened by the absence of those comforts, not to say necessaries, which should have nursed and restored the prodigal expenditure of his brain and nerves.

We are accustomed to think of Beethoven's end as solitary and his death as miserable, but what was his last illness compared to Schubert's? Officious friends, like Pasqualati, sending him wine and delicacies; worshipping musicians, like Hummel and Hiller, coming to his deathbed as if to a shrine; his faithful attendants, Schindler, Hüttenbrenner and Breuning waiting on his every wish; the sense of a long life of honour and renown; of great works appreciated and beloved; the homage of distant countries, expressed in the most substantial forms—what a contrast to the lonely early deathbed, and the apparent wreck of such an end as Schubert's! Time has so altered the public sense of his merits that it is all but impossible to place oneself in the forlorn condition in which he must have resigned himself to his departure, and to realise the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death through which his simple sincere guileless soul passed to its last rest, and to the joyful resurrection and glorious renown which have since attended it. Then an intelligent and well-informed foreign musician could visit the Austrian capital and live in its musical circles, without so much as hearing Schubert's name.^[230] Now memorials are erected to him in the most public places of Vienna, institutions are proud to bear his name, his works go through countless editions, and publishers grow rich upon the proceeds even of single songs, while faces brighten and soften, and hands are clasped, as we drink in the gay and pathetic accents of his music.

For even his privations and his obscurity have now been forgotten in the justice since done to him, and in the universal affection with which he was regarded as soon as his works reached the outside world—an affection which, as we have conclusively shown, has gone on increasing ever since his death. In the whole range of composers it may be truly said that no one is now so dearly loved as he, no one has the happy power so completely of attracting both the admiration and the affection of his hearers. To each one he is not only a great musician, not only a great enchanter, but a dear personal friend. If in his 'second state sublime' he can know this, we may feel sure that it is a full compensation to his affectionate spirit for the many wrongs and disappointments that he endured while on earth.

The very wide field over which Schubert ranged in poetry has been more than once alluded to in the foregoing. It would be both interesting and profitable to give a list of the poems which he has set. Such a list, not without inaccuracies, will be found in Wurzbach's 'Biographical Lexicon,' vol. xxxii. p. 94. Here we can only say that it includes 634 poems, by 100 authors, of whom the principal are:—

Goethe 72; Schiller 54; Mayrhofer 48; Müller 44; Hölty 25; Matthisson 27; Kosegarten 20; F. Schlegel 19; Klopstock 19; Körner 16; Schober 15; Seidl 15; Salis 14; Claudius 13; Walter Scott 10; Rellstab 9; Uz 8; Ossian 7; Heine 6; Shakspeare 3; Pope 1; Colley Cibber 1; etc. etc.

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Compared with the literature on other composers that on Schubert is not extensive.

Biographical.—The original sources are scattered in German periodicals and elsewhere.

1. The first place must be given to Ferdinand Schubert's sketch, entitled 'Aus Franz Schuberts Leben,' four short papers which appeared in Schumann's periodical, the 'Neue Zeitschrift für Musik,' in Nos. 33–36 (April 23–May 3), 1839. These are written with great simplicity, and apparently great exactness; but might have been extended to double the length with grea advantage. 2. Mayrhofer contributed a short article of recollections, 'Erinnerungen,' to the 'Neues Archiv für Geschichte … Literatur und Kunst' (Vienna), Feb. 23, 1829; and Bauernfeld a longer paper, 'Ueber Franz Schubert,' to Nos. 69, 70, 71 of the 'Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, Literatur, Theater, und Mode,' for June 9, 11, 13, 1829. These papers, written so shortly after Schubert's death by men extremely intimate with him, are very valuable. 3. Bauernfeld also made two interesting communications to the 'Freie Presse' of Vienna for April 17 and 21, 1869, containing six letters and parts of letters by Schubert, and many anecdotes. These latter articles were reprinted in the Leipzig 'Signale' for Nov. 15, 22, 26, 28, 1869; and in Bauernfeld's 'Gesammelte Schriften,' vol. xii (Vienna 1873). But recollections written so long after the event must always be taken cum grano. 4. Schindler wrote an article in 'Bäuerle's Wiener Theaterzeitung' for May 3, 1831, describing Beethoven's making acquaintance with Schubert's songs on his death-bed; and other articles in the 'Niederrheinischer Musikzeitung' for 1857. He also mentions Schubert in his 'Life of Beethoven,' 3rd ed., ii. 136. 5. Schumann printed four letters (incomplete), two poems, and a Dream, by Schubert, as 'Reliquien' in his 'Neue Zeitschrift für Musik' for Feb. 1 and 5, 1839. 6. One of the same letters was printed complete in the 'Signale,' No. 2, for 1878. 7. The Diary of Sofie Müller (Vienna 1832), the 'Unvergessenes' of Frau von Chezy (Leipzig 1858), and the 'Erinnerungen' of her son W. von Chezy (Schaffhausen 1863), all afford original facts about Schubert by those who knew him; and 8. Ferd. Hiller's Künstlerleben (Cologne 1880) contains a paper—'Vienna 52 years since'—embodying a few interesting and lifelike notices of the year 1827. Of all these use has been made in the foregoing pages.

9. The first attempt to write a life of Schubert was made by von Kreissle, who in 1861 published a small 8vo pamphlet of 165 pages, entitled 'Franz Schubert, eine biografische Skizze; von Dr. Heinrich von Kreissle.' This is a very interesting little book, and though not nearly so long as the second edition, it contains some facts which have dropt out of that. 10. The second edition—'Franz Schubert, von Dr. Heinrich Kreissle von Hellborn' (Vienna, Gerold, 1S65), is a large 8vo of 619 pages, with portrait after Kupelwieser. This is a thoroughly honest, affectionate book; but it is deformed, like many German biographies, by a very diffuse style, and a mass of unnecessary matter in the shape of detailed notices of every one who came into contact with Schubert; and some of the letters appear to be garbled; but the analyses of the operas and the lists of works are valuable, and there are some interesting facts gathered from the Fröhlichs, Ferdinand Schubert, Spaun, Hüttenbrenner, and others. It has been translated into English by Mr. A. D. Coleridge (2 vols. 8vo, Longman, 1869), with an Appendix by the present writer containing the themes and particulars of the MS. Symphonies and other MS. music of Schubert, as seen by Mr. Sullivan and him in Vienna in 1867. A résumé of the work is given in English by Wilberforce, 'Franz Schubert' etc. (London 1866). 11. Both Kreissle's works have been largely utilised by H. Barbedette, in 'F. Schubert, sa vie' etc. (Paris 1866). This contains an atrocious version of Rieder's portrait, and one new fact—a facsimile of Schober's song 'An die musik,' valuable because being dated April 24, 1827 (while the song was composed in 1817) it shows that Schubert did not confine his dates to the original autographs (compare 'The Trout,' p. 329, note 4).

12. The chief value of Reissmann's book, 'Franz Schubert, sein Leben u. seine Werke' (Berlin 1873), consists in the extracts from the juvenile MS. songs, Quintet overture (pp. 12–30), the comparisons of early songs with later revisions of the same (pp. 24, 154 etc.), 5 pieces printed for the first time, and Facsimile of a MS. page. 13. Gumprecht, La Mara, and others, have included sketches of Schubert in their works.

14. The article on Schubert in Wurzbach's Biographisches Lexicon (Part 32, pp. 30–110; Vienna 1876) is a good mixture of unwearied research, enthusiasm for his hero, and contempt for those who misjudge him (see for example p. 98b). The copious lists are extremely interesting and useful. Unfortunately they cannot always be trusted, and the quotations are sometimes curiously incorrect. Thus Mr. Arthur Duke Coleridge is raised to the peerage as 'Herzog Arthur von Coleridge' etc., etc. Still all students of Schubert should be grateful for the

15. The facsimile of the Erlking in its first form has been mentioned in the body of the article (p. 324b). Further consideration convinces me that the original of this cannot be the first autograph, but must be a copy made afterwards by Schubert.

Two documents must be mentioned. 16. 'Actenmässige Darstelling der Ausgrabung und Wiederbeisetzung der irdischen Reste von Beethoven und Schubert' (Vienna 1863), and 17. 'Vom Wiener Männergesangverein. Festschrift zur Enthüllung des Schubert Denkmales am 15 Mai, 1872,' an account of the unveiling of the statue in the Stadt Park, containing a capital sketch of Schubert's Life, Lists, and many other welcome facts. Herr Dumba's speech on the occasion, and poems by Bauernfeld and Weilen were printed separately. Good photographs of the statue are published by Löwy of Vienna.

18. Since writing the foregoing I have seen the 'Life and Works of Schubert,' by A. Niggli, which forms No. 15 of Breitkopf and Härtel's Musikalische Vorträge (1880). It appears to be an excellent and generally an accurate^[231] compilation, with a great deal of information in small compass, but wants a list of works to make it complete. Also 19. a Life by H. F. Frost in 'The Great Musicians edited by Francis Hueffer' (London 1881), readable and intelligent, and has a list of works year by year.

Thematic Catalogues.

Of these there are two:—

1. 'Thematisches Verzeichniss im Druck erschienenen Compositionen von Franz Schubert. Vienna, Diabelli' [1852], contains the works from Opus 1 to 160; Schwanengesang; Lieferungen 1 to 50; and 30 songs (included in the foregoing) of a series entitled 'Immortellen.'

2. 'Thematisches Verzeichniss der im Druck erschienenen Werke von Franz Schubert, herausgegeben von G. Nottebohm. Vienna, F. Schreiber, 1874, pages 1–288.' This admirable work is as comprehensive and accurate as the previous publications of its author would imply its being. Under the head of printed works it comprises:—(1) works with opus numbers 1–173. (2) Nachgeissene Mus. Dichtungen, Lieferungen 1–50. (3) Works without opus numbers for orchestra, chamber-music, etc. (4) Doubtful and spurious compositions; works still in MS.; books, portraits, etc. (5) Index, list of songs, etc.

The information under each piece is not confined to the name and date of publication, but gives in most cases the date of composition, and frequently also such facts as the first time of performance, etc. It is in fact, like all Mr. Nottebohm's publications, a model of what such a catalogue should be.

Schubert's Letters, etc.

Date.	Place.	Addressed to.	Where printed.
1812. Nov. 24	Vienna	Ferd. Schubert	N.Z.M. Feb. 1. 1839.[232]
1813. Sept. 27		Poem for his father's birthday	K.H. 30 note (i. 30).[233]
1815. Sept. 27		Poem for his father's birthday	K.H. 30 note (i. 31).
1816. June 16		Poem for Salieri's jubilee	K.H. 82 note (i. 83).
⁠June 13–16		Diary	K.H. 103–105 (i. 103).
1817. Aug. 24		Lied. 'Abschied v. e. Freunde'	Lief. xxix. 4.
1818. Feb. 2(?)		J. Hüttenbrenner	K.H. 125 (i. 129).
⁠Aug. 3	Zelész	Schober	Bauernfeld, in Die Presse, Ap. 17, 1869; Signale, 1869, p. 978.
⁠Aug. 24	Zelész	Ferd. Schubert	Dict. of Music, iii. 330.
1819. (?)	…	J. Hüttenbrenner	K.H. 126 note (i. 130).
⁠May 19	…	A. Hüttenbrenner	K.H. 152 (i. 154).
⁠July 15	Steyr	Ferd. Schubert	K.H. 158 (i. 159).
⁠Aug. 19	Linz	Mayrhofer	K.H. 159 (i. 160).
⁠Sept. 14	Steyr	K. Stadler's album	K.H. 160 note (i. 161).
1820. Sept.	…	Poem, 'Lasst sie nur'	N.Z.M. Feb. 5, 1839.
1821. Nov. 9	Vienna	Spaun	K.H. 231 (i. 234). PS. to Schober's letter.
1822. (?)	(?)	Hüttenbrenner (?)	K.H. 236 note (i. 239).
⁠July 3	…	'My dream'	N.Z.M. Feb. 5, 1839.
⁠Oct. 31	Vienna	Hüttenbrenner	MS. (in my possession).
1823. Feb. 28	Vienna	von Mosel	Neue Freie Presse, Nov 19, 1881.
⁠May 8	(?)	'My prayer,' Poem	N.Z.M. Feb. 5, 1839.
⁠Nov. 30	Vienna	Schober	Bauernfeld, in Die Presse, April 17. 1869; Signale. 1869, p. 979.
1824. Mar. 27–9	Vienna	Diary	K.H. 322 (ii. 5, 6).
⁠Mar. 31	{{{1}}}„	Kupelwieser	K.H. 319 (ii. 2).
⁠July 16–18	Zelész	Ferd. Schubert	Signale, 1878. p. 17.
⁠Sept. 21	…	Schober, with Poem 'Klage an das Volk'	Bauernfeld, die Presse, April 17, 1869; Signale, 1869, p. 940
1825. July 21	Linz	Spaun	K.H. 341 (ii. 25).
⁠July 25	Steyr	father and mother	N.Z.M. Feb. 1839
(?)	Gmunden	Steiger	K.H. 372 note (ii. 56).
⁠Sept. 12–21	{{{1}}}„	Ferd. Schubert	N.Z.M. Feb. 5, 1839.
⁠Sept. 18–19	Steyr	Bauernfeld	K.H. 370 (ii. 56)
⁠Oct. 10	Vienna	Committee of Musikverein	Pohl 16.
1826. May	Vienna (?)	Bauernfeld and Mayrhofer	Baurenfeld, Die Presse, April 21, 1869; Signale 1869, p. 1011
1827. June 12	Vienna (?)	Mad. Pachler	K.H. 388 (ii. 84)
⁠June 13	Vienna	Committee of Musikverein	Pohl, 17.
⁠Sept. 27	{{{1}}}„	Herr Pachler	K.H. 402 (ii. 89)
⁠Oct. 12	{{{1}}}„	Mad. Pachler, with march	K.H. 404 (ii. 91).
1828. Jan 18	Vienna	Hüttenbrenner	K.H. 417 (ii. 104)
[App. p.787 ⁠Ap. 10	Vienna	Probst	M.S. copy in the writer's possession]
⁠Aug. 1	{{{1}}}„(?)	H. A. Probst	K.H. 435 (ii. 121)
⁠Sept. 25	{{{1}}}„	Jenger	K.H. 437 (ii. 124)
(?)	{{{1}}}„(?)	Sonnleithner	K.H. 515 (ii. 199)
⁠Nov. 11	{{{1}}}„	Schober	Bauernfeld, Presse, 1869; Signale, 1869, p. 1028.

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Lists of works on this sub-page.

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It only remains for me to return my sincere thanks to those friends who have helped me with facts and suggestions and with much labour in execution of the preceding pages; such as Fräulein Caroline Geisler-Schubert, Father Hermann (Anton) Schubert, and other members of composer's family; to Heir Eugen Heilpern and the eminent photographers who act under the name of 'Adele' in Vienna; my ever kind friend Herr C. F. Pohl, Librarian of the Musikverein there; Dr. Kopfermann, Librarian of the k. k. Bibliothek, Berlin; Mr. C. V. Stanford; Mr. C. A. Barry; Mr. Manns; Herr A. Dorffel; Mr. Paul David; Messrs. Breitkopf & Härtel; Baron Tauchnitzjun.; Mr. L. Engel; Mr. W. B. Squire; and many more. To each and to all I express my hearty acknowledgments.

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Appendix p.787:

A complete edition of Schubert's works in 22 classes was announced by Breitkopf & Härtel on 'Schubert's death-day, 1884.' Up to Feb. 1889, the following have been published:—Series I. 8 Symphonies in 2 vols. II. 10 Overtures, etc. VII. 5tets, 4tets, and Trios, 2 vols. VIII. 8 Rondos, Sonatas, etc., for PF. and one instrument. IX. PF. 4-hand compositions, 32 in all, in 3 vols. X. 15 Sonatas for PF. solo. XI. Miscellaneous PF. works. XIII. Masses, 7, in 2 vols. XIV. 21 small church works. XV. Dramatic music: (1) 'Teufels Lustschloss'; (2) 'Der vierjährige Posten'; 'Fernando'; 'Die Freunde von Salamanka'; (6) 'Fierrabras.'

The history of Schubert's music owes very much to Max Friedländer, Dr. in Philosophy, who was born at Brieg in Silesia Oct. 12, 1852, and studied singing under Manuel Garcia in London and Julius Stockhausen in Frankfort. Friedländer has travelled much and is widely known as a baritone singer. He sang at the Crystal Palace on April 19, 1884, and elsewhere in London. He has taken up musical investigation, especially in connection with Schubert; and has edited the new edition of Peters' collection of Schubert's songs; with a supplement of variations; Schubert's duets; Schubert's quintet, 'Nur wer die Sehnsucht'; Gluck's Odes; Revised edition of the text to Schumann's songs; 100 Deutsche Volkslieder (not before published); Stockhausen's Gesangstechnik (with the author). He is understood to be devoting himself to the collection of materials for an exhaustive biography of Schubert, for which he is well qualified.

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1. The following abbreviations are used in the notes to this article:—

   K.H. = Kreissle von Heilborn. The first reference to the German edition; the second, in brackets, to Coleridge's translation.

   Ferd. = Ferdinand Schubert, in his biographical sketch in Schumann's Neue Zeitschrift für die Musik, x. p. 129, etc.

   A.M.Z. = Allgemelne Musikalische Zeitung.

   N.Z.M. = Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.

   W.Z.K. = Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, etc.

2. The Nussdorfer Strasse runs north and south. At the time of Schubert's birth it was called 'Auf dem Himmelpfortgrund,' and the house was No. 72. The 'Himmelpfortgrund' itself (the 'gate of heaven') was a short street running out of it westwards towards the fortifications—the same which is now the 'Säulengasse.' The present Schubertgasse did not then exist beyond the opening into the main street. I find all this on a large map of the date in the British Museum.
3. Author of a sermon on the 1400th anniversary of the birth of St. Benedict (Vienna, 1880). In which he Is styled 'Capitularpriester des Stiftes Schotten; Curat und Prediger an der Stiftspfarre; Besitzer des gold. Verdienstkreuzes m. d. Krone.'
4. K.H. 146 (i. 149).
5. His usual practice was to write the title of the piece, the date, and his name, 'Frz Schubert Mpia,' at the head of the first page, on beginning to compose. In his earlier years he added the full date of completion at the end, even when it was the same day. See nos. 1, 2, and 5 of the '6 Lieder' (Müller)—all three belonging to 1813, as given in Nottebohm's Catalogue, p. 243. Sometimes he has dated each movement, as in the String Quartet in B♭ (op. 168), described under 1814. With 1815, however, this minute dating in great measure ceases, and as a rule we find the year or at most the month stated.
6. N.Z.M.
7. K.H. 5 (i. 5).
8. In the Piaristengasse in the Josephstadt. See a very full and interesting account of this school in Hanslick's excellent book, 'Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien' (Vienna, 1869), p. 141.
9. From a sketch by von Köchel, entitled 'Nachruf an' Joseph von Spaun,' Vienna (privately printed), 1866. I owe the sight of this to my excellent friend Mr. Pohl.
10. See K.H. 258 (i. 260).
11. See the list of names in K.H. 13 (i. 13).
12. Ferd. p. 133. Reissmann (p. 7) gives the inscriptions 'Den 8 Aprill angefangen. Den 1. May vollbracht. 1810.'
13. The autographs of both are in possession of Herr Nicholas Dumba of Vienna.
14. Ferd. p. 188.
15. Kreissle expressly states this (p. 560) and gives the date-'Nov. 19. 1812.'
16. This octet, dated Sept. 19, is said to be mentioned by Ferdinand Schubert as 'Franz Schubert's Leichenbegängniss' (funeral ceremony). It is supposed by Kreissle (p. 31) to have been composed for the funeral of his mother; but it is difficult to believe that the words which he wrote for his father's birthday ode, eight days later, would have had no reference to the mother's death—which they certainly have not—if it had occurred at that date.
17. Adagio and Allegro vivace (D); Andante (G); Minuet and Trio (D); Finale, Allegro vivace (D). The work was played from MS. at the Crystal Palace, Feb. 6, 188L The autograph is in possession of Herr Dumba, Vienna.
18. K.H. 83 (i. 83).
19. On Spaun's authority. There is no mention of Schubert in Körner's letters from Vienna.
20. From Bauernfeld, in W.Z.K.
21. Quoted by K.H. 103, 101 (i. 105. 108).
22. He was three times summoned to enlist. See Ferd. p. 183.
23. See K.H. 141 (i. 144).
24. Mr. Prout, in 'Monthly Musical Record,' Jan. and Feb. 1871.
25. Ferd. 133b.
26. K.H. i. 27 note.
27. Bauernfeld, in W.Z.K. June 9, 1829.
28. For Beethoven see vol. 1. p. 168a. Schubert so styles himself on the title-pages of his 'Fernando' and 'Claudine von Villabella.'
29. K.H. 18 (i. 19).
30. The Allegro has at beginning '5 Sept. 1814,' at end 'den 6 Sept. In 4½ Stunden angefertigt,' apparently implying that it was dashed off before and after 12 o'clock at night. Andante, at beginning 'den 6 Sept. 1814,' at end 'den 10 Sept. 1814.' Minuet, at end '11 Sept. 1814.' Finale, at end 'den 13 Sept. 1814.' Autograph with Spina.
31. At beginning, '10 Dec. 1814'; at end of Allegro, '26 Dec. 1814'; at beginning of Finale, '25 Feb. 1815,' and at end, '24 March 1815.' The movements are Largo and Allegro vivace (B♭); Andante (E♭); Minuet and Trio (C minor); Finale, Presto vivace (B♭). Played from MS. at the Crystal Palace, Oct. 20, 1877. Autograph with Herr Dumba.
32. 48 published, and 6 in MS.
33. It is in the usual number of movements: Adagio maestoso and Allegro con brio (D); Allegretto (G); Minuet and Trio (D); Finale. Presto vivace (D). Dates:—Allegro, at beginning, '24 May 1815'; end, 'July 12, 1815.' Allegretto, at beginning, 'July 15, 1815.' End of Finale, 'July 19, 1816.' Autograph with Herr Dumba.
34. Published by M. Berra, of Prague, in 1846, as the composition of R. Führer. [See vol. i. 666b.] The fraud was not exposed till 1847, when it was announced by Ferd. Schubert in the Allg. Wiener Musikzeltung of Dec. 14. Ferdinand mentions this mass in his list under 1815. A copy, evidently copied closely from the autograph, but with the addition of oboes (or clarinets) and bassoons by Ferd. Schubert (July 23. 1847), is in the Library of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde.
35. Mentioned by Ferdinand, 139a.
36. Autographs of Fernando, Teufels Lustschloss, and Adrast, are with Herr Dumba.
37. The Berlin Library possesses an autograph of the earlier form, and Mad. Schumann one of the later (with triplet accompaniment). The former was published in facsimile by Espagne (Berlin, Müller).
38. 'Qu'on me donne la Gazette de Hollande,' says Rameau. But Schubert could have thrown poetry into an advertisement! 'Give me the words,' said Mozart, 'and I'll put the poetry to them.'
39. Herr Doppler. I cannot refrain from mentioning this gentleman, who in 1867 was shopman at Spina's (formerly Diabelli's). I shall never forget the droll shock I received when on asking him if he knew Schubert, he replied, 'Know him? I was at his christening!' Kreissle's Life is indebted to him for many a trait which would otherwise have been lost.
40. Now in the Imperial Library, Berlin. No doubt there was one every year, though that of 1814 has been lost.
41. Hinturüblend is Kreissle's word, doubtless from Spaun's lips.
42. If indeed this be the actually first original. The omission of bar 8, and its subsequent insertion, however, as well as the clean regular look of the whole, seem to point to its being a transcript.
43. K.H. 107 (i. 109).
44. There is ground for this supposition.
45. Bauernfeld. W.Z.K.
46. Imponiren. Thayer, ii. 313.
47. There was a Liszt among Salieri's pupils at this time, but hardly the future Abbé, who was then but five years old. Franz Liszt and Schubert met once—in the curious collection of variations on Diabelli's waltz, to which 50 Austrian composers contributed, Beethoven's contribution being the 33 variations, op. 120. Liszt's variation is No. 24. and Schubert's No. 38. Liszt has been throughout an indefatigable champion for Schubert.
48. The autograph of this little curiosity was sold in Paris, by auction. May 14, 1881. The words are given by Kreissle. p. 82 (i. 83), but are not worth quoting. They do not possess the individuality of thought which makes Schubert's later verses so interesting, in spite of the crudity of their expression.
49. His birthday was July 12, but the performance was put off on account of the weather.
50. I am indebted for this reprint to my ever-kind friend Mr. C. F. Pohl. of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna.
51. He returned to this poet in 1820, 1825, 1826, 1828.
52. Nottebohm's Catalogue, p. 226.
53. First printed by Schumann as Appendix to his newspaper, the N.Z.M., for June 18, 1839.
54. In Mr. Brahms's possession. The date is quoted from the Catalogue of the accurate Nottebohm. I am bound to say that I saw no date, and Mr. Brahms judged it to be later than 1816.
55. April 1816.—Adagio molto and Allegretto vivace in C minor; Andante in A♭; Menuet and Trio in E♭; Finale in C.—The autograph has vanished.
56. Sept. 1816.—Fine den 8 Oct. 1816. Allegro B♭; Andante con moto E♭; Menuet and Trio G minor and G major; Finale Allegretto vivace B♭. Autograph with Peters & Co.
57. Hanslick. 'Concertwesen,' 142.
58. Except the Andante of the 'Tragic,' which is published in score by Peters, No. 1004.
59. The drinking-song from Antony and Cleopatra (marked 'Währing. July 26'), and the lovely 'Sylvia' ('July 1826'). The anecdote is in Kreissle.
60. Bauernfeld, W.Z.K.
61. In Krelssle. 119 (i. 123).
62. Lockhart's Life of Scott, vii. 129.
63. K.H. 129 (i. 133).
64. Kreissle says May. September is Mr. Nottebohm's date: but there is another Overture in D, and it seems doubtful which of the two is dated May, and which September.
65. Published, by Spina, as '7th Sonata.'
66. Adagio and Allegro in C; Andante in F; Scherzo in C, and Trio in E major; Finale in C.
67. Autograph in possession of Mr. Brahms.
68. In B♭. Played at the Monday Popular Concert of Feb. 15. 1869.
69. For 'Sign.' A facsimile is given by Reissmann.
70. So Kreissle, i. 128. But does not the dedication of the song, 'Die Erwartung,' composed Feb. 27, 1815,—'to his friend' J. H.—show that the acquaintance was of much earlier date? True, it was not published till the April after Schubert's death; and the song may have been prepared by him for publication shortly before, and the dedication added then.
71. K.H. 109 (i. 112).
72. There is an interesting autograph copy of the 'Forelle' song dated at A. Hüttenbrenner's Lodgings (in Vienna) midnight Feb. 21. 1818. and besprinkled with ink instead of sand. It has been published in photography. But the 'Forelle' really dates from 1817. (Nottebohm, in the Them. Catalogue.)
73. Published in 1826 as op. 48. Schubert wrote a new and most beautiful Benedictus to it in 1828, only a few months before his death.
74. In 'Die Presse,' Vienna. Ap. 17. 1869. Reprinted in the 'Signale,' Nov. 15. 1869.
75. Fräulein Caroline Geisler, daughter of Linus Geisler and Ferdinand's second daughter, Elise.
76. In a letter to Mayrhofer from Linz, dated Aug. 19, 1819, he say, 'Let the bearer have my bed while he stays with you.' K.H. 159 (i. 100). The bed must have been his before he left town.
77. K.H. 51 (i. 51).
78. In Hiller's 'Künstlerleben,' p. 49.
79. K.H. 160 (i. 162).
80. K.H. 158–159 (i. 159, 160).
81. Published to other words, 'Herrlich prangt,' as op. 158.
82. I owe this to my good friend Mr. Pohl, of Vienna.
83. Search should be made in the Goethe Archiv at Weimar for the autograph of these songs, and the letter which doubtless accompanied them.
84. Autograph in Herr Dumba's collection.
85. N.Z.M. 139a.
86. In 1866, by Spina.
87. The overture played to the Rosamunde music is in D minor, and was afterwards published as 'Alfonso & Estrella.' There is perhaps another in existence. See the letter to von Mosel quoted further on.
88. To Moses Mendelssohn's translation
89. K.H. 201 (i. 203).
90. Hanslick, 'Concertwesen,' 284; and K. H. 60 (i. 60).
91. Introduced into 'Alfonso und Estrella' in 1881 by Job. Fuchs.
92. I received it in 1868 from the late Paul Mendelssohn, Felix's brother, into whose hands it came after his brother's death. Felix Mendelssohn had it from Ferdinand Schubert direct.
93. The change in this symphony from the Scherzo in C to the Trio in A, by an E in octaves in the oboes lasting 4 bars, is an anticipation of the similar change in the same place in the great C major Symphony of 1828, and a curious instance of the singular way in which many of Schubert's earlier symphonies lead up to his crowning effort.
94. K.H. 249 (i. 262).
95. For their meeting we have the authority of Weber's son in his biography, ii. 420. But his statement that Schubert was alienated from Weber by Weber's criticism on Rosamunde is more than doubtful, because Rosamunde was probably not composed till some 19 months later, and because it was not Schubert's habit to take offence at criticism.
96. 'Für Freunde der Tonkunst.' iv. 352. See the lifelike and touching picture by Braun von Braun given in Nohl's Beethoven, iii. 682.
97. Schindler's 'Beethoven,' ii. 176.
98. K.H. 261 (i. 264).
99. 7b stands for September.
100. This was kindly pointed out to the writer by Mr. Brahms, who has an early copy of the score, made by Ferdinand Schubert from the autograph in its original condition. In this shape Mr. Brahms rehearsed the mass, but found many portions unsatisfactory, and was interested to discover subsequently from the autograph that Schubert had altered the very passages alluded to, and made them practicable.—He made three attempts at the 'Cum Sancto' before succeeding, each time in fugue, and always with a different subject. Of the first there are 4 bars; of the second 199; the third is that printed in Schreiber's edition. This edition is unfortunately very incorrect. Not only does it swarm with misprints, but whole passages, and those most important ones (as in the Horns and Trombones of the Dona), are clean omitted. The nuances also are shamefully treated.
101. First printed by R. Schumann in the 'Neue Zeitschrift für Musik for Feb. 5, 1839. See also K.H. 333 (ii. 16).
102. K.H. 146 (i. 148).
103. K. H. 280 (i. 283).
104. See Hanslick. 'Concertsaal,' 350.
105. So say the books; but the works published on commission were ops. 1–7, containing 20 songs.
106. In the Neue Freie Presse of Vienna, Nov. 19, 1881. The letter, though formal in style, is curiously free in some of its expressions. It mentions the overture to the 1st Act of Alfonso and Estrella. What can this be? The overture known under that name (op. 69) is dated 'Dec. 1823,' and is said to have been written for Rosamunde.
107. Hanslick, 'Concertsaal,' 150.
108. The autograph was shown to Mr. Sullivan and the writer by that energetic Schubert apostle, Herr Johann Herbeck, in 1868.
109. The Müller-lieder, 23 in number, with Prologue and Epilogue in addition, are contained in the 1st vol. of the 'Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten' (Poems found among the papers of a travelling French-horn-player), which were first published at Dessau, 1821. Schubert has omitted the Prologue and Epilogue, and 3 poems—'Das Mühlenleben' after 'Der Neugierige'; 'Erster Schmerz, letzter Scherz,' after 'Eifersucht und Stolz'; and 'Blumlein Vergissmein' after 'Die böse Farbe.'
110. See Mendelssohn's opinion, in 'The Mendelssohn Family,' i. 237.
111. K. H. 246 (i. 249) note.
112. Ibid. 285 (i. 288), etc.
113. Produced at the Theatre an-der-Wlen, Sept. 30, 1791.
114. So says Wilhelm von Chezy, the son of the librettist, who was on terms with Schubert. See his Journal, 'Erinnerungen,' etc. 1863.
115. The autograph is dated 'Dec. 1823.'
116. Kreissle. Sketch, p. 154 note.
117. Published by Spina in 1854. It is a great favourite at the Popular Concerts in London, having been played 18 times since March 4, 1867.
118. In his letter to Leopold Kupelwieser of March 31. K. H. 321 (ii. 5).
119. 'In this manner I shall prepare the way to the Grand Symphony (zur grossen Sinfonie).' Ibid.
120. For which I again gladly acknowledge the kindness of Frl. Caroline Geisler, of Vienna, Schubert's grandniece.
121. The autograph, so dated, belongs to Mr. C. J. Hargitt, London.
122. Gotthard, 1871. Autograph in Musik Verein.
123. Besides the vocal music, the overture was published about 1828, and the Entractes and Ballet music in 1866.
124. See her interesting Journal, in her 'Leben und nachgelassene Papiere herausg, von Johann Grafen Majláth' (Vienna 1832).
125. The dates of the early part of the tour are not to be made out.
126. Schubert speaks of them as 'unsere sieben Sachen' (Letter to Ferdinand. Kreissle 363); but Nos. 3 and 4 are for chorus.
127. K. H. 358 (ii. 43). 'To your Symphony we are looking forward eagerly,' implying that Schubert had mentioned it in a former letter.
128. W.Z.K., June 9–13, 1829.
129. See his shrewd reasons for not at once accepting Bauernfeld's proposition that he, Schwind and Schubert should all live together. K. H. 370 (ii. 57). Also the whole letter to Spaun.
130. Printed by Reissmann in his book.
131. So says Sofie Müller (under date of Mar. 1); but perhaps it was her mistake for Norman's song in 'The Lady of the Lake.'
132. See his letter to Bauernfeld and Mayrhofer. In 'Die Presse.' April 21, 1889.
133. K.H. 391 (ii. 77). The finale was voted too long, to which Schubert, after a few minutes consideration, agreed, and 'at once cut out a good part.' (Hauer's information.) The autograph has disappeared.
134. Played at the Monday Popular Concerts of Dec. 14, 68, and Jan. 13, 79; Joachim leading on both occasions.
135. Entitled 'Serenade,' but more accurately an 'Aubade.'
136. See Nottebohm's Catalogue under op. 130.
137. Lachner's expression to my friend Mr. C. A. Barry in 1881.
138. The documents on which these statements are based are given by Herr C. F. Pohl in his History of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde—or Musikverein—Vienna 1871. p. 16; and by Ferdinand Schubert in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik for April 30. 1839, p. 140.
139. Bauernfeld, in an article 'Ueber Franz Schubert' in the 'Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, Literatur, Theater, und Mode,' for 9, 11, 13 June, 1829 (Nos. 69, 70, 71), says as follows:—'To the larger works of his latter years also belongs a Symphony written in 1825 at Gastein, for which its author had an especial predilection.… At a great concert given by the Musik Verein shortly after his death a Symphony in C was performed, which was composed as early as 1817 [1818], and which he considered as one of his less successful works.… Perhaps the Society intends at some future time to make us acquainted with one of the later Symphonies, possibly the Gastein one already mentioned.' [N.B. The two movements of the B minor Symphony (1822) were not at this time known, so that by 'later Symphonies' Bauernfeld must surely intend the two of 1825 and 1828.] At the end of the article he gives a 'chronological list of Schubert's principal works not yet generally known.' Amongst these are '1825, Grand Symphony.' … '1828, Last Symphony'—'Grand' (grosse) being the word used by Schubert himself in his letter to Kupelwieser referred to above (p. 340a). It is plain therefore that at this time, seven months after Schubert's death, the Gastein Symphony of 1825, and that in C major of 1828, were known as distinct works. The present writer has collected the evidence for the existence of the Symphony in a letter to the London 'Athenæum' of Nov. 19. 1881.
140. It is said by Schindler that the prices agreed on with him were 10 Vienna gulden per Heft of songs, and 12 per pianoforte piece. (The Vienna gulden was then worth just 1 franc. 'Heft' meant then a single song, not a 'Part' of two or three. This is conclusively proved by Ferdinand Schubert's letter of 1824.) These prices were not adhered to. Thus for the 7 'Lady of the Lake' songs he had 500 paper gulden = 20l., or nearly 3l. per song. Even that is low enough. On the other hand, F. Lachner told Mr. Barry that in the last year of Schubert's life, he took half-a-dozen of the 'Winterreise' songs to Haslinger at Schubtnfs request, and brought back 1 gulden a piece (=10d.) for them!
141. The expression is Bauernfeld's.
142. Father of Miss Mary Krebs the pianist.
143. The order of the songs is much changed in the music.
144. Schindler, 'Beethoven,' ii. 136.
145. Schindler's list of the songs perused by Beethoven differs in his two accounts. Compare his 'Beethoven,' ii. 136, with K.H. 264 (i. 268).
146. Schindler, in Bäuerle's Theaterzeitung (Vienna). May 3, 1831.
147. See von Leitner, 'Anselm Hüttenbrenner,' Gratz. 1868, p. 5. The story has an apocryphal air, but Hüttenbrenner was so thoroughly trustworthy, that it is difficult to reject it. At any rate, Beethoven is not likely to have thus expressed himself before he had made acquaintance with Schubert's music.
148. Künstlerleben (1880), p. 49.
149. K.H. 474 (ii. 160).
150. See Schubert's letter [May, 1828] with Bauernfeld's statements, in the 'Presse' of April 21. 1869, and 'Signale.' Nov. 1869.
151. Published by Haslinger, as No. 10 of the 'Favorite Galops,' 1828.
152. They stood originally in B♭ minor and A♭, but on republication by Diabelli after his death, as op. 93, the keys were changed to G minor and G major.
153. Compare Jenger's letter in K.H. (ii. 103), note, with Nottebohm's notice under op. 103.
154. K.H. 421 (ii. 107)
155. 'Die Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde,' etc., p. 16
156. See details by the present writer in Appendix to the Life of Schubert, translated by A. D. Coleridge, Esq., vol. ii. p. 320.
157. The original MS. orchestral parts show at any rate that the alterations in the score were made before they were copied from it. Mr. Stanford kindly examined them for me with that view.
158. Schindler, 'Erinnerungen,' in 'Niederrheinische Musikzeitung.' 1867, pp. 73–78; 81–85.
159. The omission of the words 'Jesu Christe' at the end of the Quoniam,' and other omissions, show that he had not conquered the carelessness as to the treatment of the words, so frequent in his early Masses.
160. Schindler, 'Erinnerungen,' etc., as before.
161. They proved afterwards to be by Rellstab.
162. See Rellstab's 'An m. Leben' ii. 245.
163. Baron Schönstein relates—K. H. 447 (ii. 186)—that he found Heine's 'Buch der Lieder' on Schubert's table some years before this date, and that Schubert lent them to him with the remark 'that he should not want them again.' But such reminiscences are often wrong in point of date: the fact remains ineffaceable in the mind, the date easily gets altered. In fact Heine's 'Buch der Lieder' was first published in 1827. The 6 songs which Schubert took from it are all from the section entitled 'Die Heimkehr.'
164. A publisher in Grätz. His name was Kienreich, and the two songs, Im Walde, and Auf der Brucke (op, 93), appeared in May.
165. See Bauernfeld's Letter in the 'Prese,' April 17, 1869. Häckerling, chaff, is Schubert's word.
166. K.H. 445 (ii. 132).
167. See Herr Pohl's letter to 'The Times' of Oct. 17, 1881.
168. Kreissle. 609 (ii. 285), says that it was produced in the Schubert Concert, March 1828. But this is contradicted by the Programme which is printed above. It was first performed Jan. 30, 1829, at a concert for erecting Schubert's headstone.
169. It has been performed (with Lachner's orchestration) at the Crystal Palace several times, at the Leeds Festival 1880. and elsewhere in England.
170. K. H. 428 (ii. 114).
171. K. H. 443 (ii. 131). This piece, 'Glaube. Hoffnung, und Liebe,' is not to be confounded with one of similar title tor a solo voice, published, Oct. 6, 1828, as op. 97.
172. Schubert's letter to Jenger, Sept. 25. K. H. 487 (ii. 124).
173. Mr. E. Prout in the Monthly Musical Record for 1871, p. 56.
174. K.H. 424 (ii. 109).
175. Probst announces two long lists of new music in the A.M.Z. for Oct., but no mention of the Trio. It is reviewed most favourably in the A.M.Z. for Deo. 10. 1828. Alas! he was then beyond the reach of praise or blame.
176. Whom Schubert parodies as 'Greiner' i.e. grumbler.
177. Jenger's and Traweger's letters, K. H. 416, 427, 431, etc.
178. Letters, K.H. 437 (ii. 124), etc.
179. K. H. 453 note.
180. It is quite a musical spot. 'Franz Haydn' has a shop for comestibles at the corner of the next house to Schubert's.
181. Quoted by Nohl, 'Beethoven,' iii. 964. Holz says it was the last music that poor Schubert heard. Ferdinand claims the same for his Requiem. At any rate both were very near the end.
182. Kreissle's Sketch, p. 152.
183. K.H. 451 (ii. 138), expressly on Sechter's authority.
184. Given by Bauernfeld. in Die Presse. Ap. 21. 1869.
185. Fraulein Geisler informs me that Ferdinand's wife (still living, 1882) maintains that Randhartinger was the only one who visited him during his illness; but it is difficult to resist the statements of Bauernfeld (Presse. Ap. 21. 1869) and of Kreissle's informants, p. 463 (ii. 140).
186. Ferdinand, in the N.Z.M. p. 143.
187. Next to Beethoven comes 'Freiherr von Wasehrd'; then 'Joh. Graf Odonel and Gräffin O'Donnell,' and then Schubert.
188. Wilhelm von Chezy, 'Erinnerungen aus meinen Leben' (1863), 182, 183.
189. Given at length by Kreissle (p.457)—but entirely omitted in the translation—and materially misquoted by Gumprecht (p. 15).
190. We have given the inscription exactly as it stands on the monument. Kreissle's version (463). followed by Gumprecht and others, is incorrect in almost every line.
191. See 'Actenmässige Darstellung der Ausgrabung und Wiederbesisetzung der irdischen Reste von Beethoven und Schubert,' Vienna, Gerold. 1863.
192. The list which follows is taken from Kreissle. p. 666 (ii. 245), who apparently had the original document before him. The only date given by Kreissle is 1830, but it must have been early in that year, since op. 121, which forms part of the bargain, was issued in February. Some of the numbers in the list had already been issued as the property of the publishers.
193. March 22 in the Allg. Mus. Zeitung, March 21 in Schumann's paper. Misled by the former the date is given in the biography of Mendelssohn as the 22nd. [Vol. ii. 275b.] The reader will please correct this. The Symphony was repeated Dec. 12, 1839. March 12 and April 3, 1840. Mendelssohn made a few cuts in the work for performance.
194. 'Ges. Schriften,' iii. 195. Schumann's expressions leave no doubt that the Symphony in C was in Ferdinand's possession at the time of his visit. This and many others of his articles on Schubert have been translated into English by Miss M. E. von Glehn. and Mrs. Ritter.
195. The MS. parts in the possession of the Musik Verein show the most cruel cuts, possibly with a view to this performance. In the Finale, one of the most essential and effective sections of the movement is clean expunged.
196. 'La Jeune Religieuse' and 'Le roi des Aulnes' were sung by Nourrit, at the Concerts of Jan. 18 and April 26, 1835, respectively—the latter with orchestral accompaniment. On March 20, 1836, Marguérite was sung by Mlle. Falcon, and there the list stops. Schubert's name has never again appeared in these programmes, to any piece, vocal or instrumental.
197. This list is copied from the Paris correspondence of the A.M.Z., 1839. p. 394.
198. This song is made up of phrases from Schubert's songs, and will probably always be attributed to him. It stands even in Pauer's edition. But it is by A. H. von Weyrauch, who published it himself in 1824. See Nottebohm's Catalogue, p. 254.
199. These particulars are taken partly from Miss Bamann's Life of Liszt, and partly from Liszt's Thematic Catalogue. The third No. of the 'Apparitions' is founded on a Waltz melody of Schubert's.
200. Even 15 years later, when played at the Musical Society of London, the same periodical that we have already quoted says of it, 'The ideas throughout it are all of a minute character, and the instrumentation is of a piece with the ideas. There is no breadth, there is no grandeur, there is no dignity in either; clearness, and contrast, and beautiful finish are always apparent, but the orchestra, though loud, is never massive and sonorous, and the music, though always correct, is never serious or imposing.' Is it possible for criticism to be more hopelessly wrong?
201. Reviewed by Mr. E. Prout in 'Concordia' for 1875, pp. 8. 29. 109, etc.
202. He bought it in Feb. 1881 for 1,203 florins, or about 120l. It is about 8 inches high, by 6 wide. [App. p.768 "It was taken, or begun, while Schubert took refuge in the artist's house from a thunderstorm (Pohl)."]
203. All three portraits agree in this. An eminent surgeon of our own day is accustomed to say, 'Never trust a man with a great head of black hair, he is sure to be an enthusiast.'
204. W. v. Chezy, 'Erinnerungen'—'with eyes so brilliant as at the first glance to betray the fire within.'
205. Bauernfeld.
206. Weigl.
207. See pages 324, 353.
208. K.H. 149 (i. 151).
209. Schwind, in K.H. 345 (ii. 28).
210. In a letter to the writer.
211. Bauernfeld.
212. Horzalka. K. H. 128 (i. 132).
213. 'Künstlerleben,' p. 49. 'Schubert I find mentioned in my journal as a quiet man—possibly not always so, though it was only amongst his intimates that he broke out. When I visited him in his modest lodging he received me kindly, but so respectfully as quite to frighten me.'
214. K.H. 368 (ii. 55); 417 (ii. 104).
215. Seyfried, in Schilling's Lexicon.
216. Liszt's worst enemies will pardon him much for this sentence.
217. Philharmonic programme, May 22, 1871.
218. There to a tradition that he doubted this himself, and referred the score to Lachner for his opinion.
219. For a comparison of his Sonatas with those of other masters see Sonata.
220. Ges. Schriften, i. 206.
221. It is strange to find his practice in the Masses so different. There—a critic has pointed out in every one of the six, words are either omitted or incorrectly jumbled together ([[Author:Ebenezer Prout|Mr. Prout, in Concordia, 1875, p. 110a). Was this because he understood the Latin words imperfectly?
222. Op. 57, containing three songs by no means difficult, was published with a notice on the title-page that care had been taken (we trust with Schubert's consent) to omit everything that was too hard.
223. A similar mood is evoked in the Andante of the Grand Duo (op. 140).
224. Who was Craigher, the author of this splendid song? and would he ever have been heard of but for Schubert? [App. p.768 "His poems were collected:—'Poetische Betrachtungen in freyen Stunden, von Nicolaus: mit einer Vorrede … von Friedrich von Schlegel.' Wien, Gerold, 1828."]
225. Why is this wonderful song never sung in public in England?
226. In Memoriam (Prologue).
227. See his letter in Kreissle, 147 (i. 149).
228. This modesty comes out in a letter to Ferdinand of July 18—19, 1824, where Schubert says, 'it would be better to play some other quartets than mine' (probably referring to those in E and E♭), 'since there is nothing in them except perhaps the fact that they please you, as everything of mine pleases you. True,' he goes on, 'you do not appear to have liked them so much as the waltzes at the Ungarchische Krone,' alluding to a clock at that eating-house of which Ferdinand had told him, which was set to play Franz's waltzes. The clock shows how popular Schubert was amongst his own set, and I regret having overlooked the fact in its proper place.
229. The following are among the musicians, poets, and painters who have died in the fourth decade of their lives. Shelley, 30; Sir Philip Sidney, 32; Bellini, 33; Mozart, 35; Byron, 36; Rafaelle, 37; Burns, 37; Purcell, 37; Mendelssohn, 38; Weber, 39; Chopin, 40.
230. The allusion is to E. Holmes, the biographer of Mozart, who passed some time in Vienna in the spring of 1827, evidently with the view of finding out all that was best worth knowing in music, and yet does not mention Schubert's name. (See his 'Ramble among the Musicians of Germany.')
231. I am sorry to find the inscription on the tomb very incorrectly given.
232. N.Z.M. = Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.
233. K.H. = Kreissle von Hellborn, Life of Schubert. The references in parentheses are to Coleridge's translation.