January - Birth, Childhood and the Convict

UNLESS the stranger in Vienna have some special reason, he is not likely to wander into the district called Lichtenthal. It is a common-place part of the city now, and must have been equally common-place ninety years back, although, at that time, one of the streets was called the "Gate of Heaven" - a fine name given, probably, by some authority with a sense of humour in his composition. It may be that the inhabitants, at some period or other since, resented the comparison thus invited. Anyhow, the street is now known as "Säulengasse," which architectural designation may or may not be deserved, but certainty makes pretensions more modest than the "Gate of Heaven." Within the ninety years, the houses in the street have been renumbered, and an enquiry into the antecedents of the present No 54 shows that it was once No. 72. No 54 is now - was recently - a milk shop, under the sign of the "Red Crab." It has over the entrance door a marble tablet, whereon may be read the legend, "Franz Schuberts Geburtshaus" ("Franz Schubert's birthplace"). There is, also, the quite superfluous representation of a lyre, to indicate that Franz Schubert was musical, and a laurel wreath to declare that Vienna regards him as worthy of (post mortem) honour. Should any one call for documentary proof that the "Red Crab" is really what its marble adornment pretends, such proof may be found (assuming that No. 54 was once No. 72) in the parish register, where the curious can read: "Franz Schubert, the lawfully begotten son of Franz Schubert, schoolmaster, and his wife, Elisabeth, both of the Catholic religion, was born at Himmelpfortgrund, No. 72, and baptised as a Catholic in this church on February 1 1797, by the Co-operator Johann Wanzka, in the presence of Herr Carl Schubert, acting as sponsor." Carl Schubert, it may be added, was the infant's uncle - elder brother of his father, and a respectable man who carried on a school in the Leopoldstadt.

So both father and uncle of the new-made Catholic were schoolmasters! The reason was that pedagogism ran in the family. Grandfather Schubert, it is true, escaped it. He was a "peasant cultivator" at Neudorff, in Moravia, and a person prominent enough among his fellows for the honour of some small magisterial position, equivalent, perhaps, to that held by the rural Maires of France. But if pedagogism skipped the Neudorff dignitary, it descended all the more heavily upon the next generation and the next. Carl, son of Grandfather Schubert, became a teacher in Vienna, as already stated, and to him, as assistant, went his brother Franz, who after two years' probation became parish school-master in the Lichtenthal district; exercising his vocation, and also residing at the house No. 72, in Gate of Heaven Street.

Schoolmaster Franz had precocious tendencies in the direction of marriage. While yet his brother's helper, and not twenty years old, he fell in love with Elisabeth Fitz, a lady three years his senior, whose personal charms were supplemented by skill as a cook. Franz, we may well suppose, did not fare sumptuously every day in Carl's house, and it is easy to imagine that his beloved Elisabeth had for him incidental, though surreptitious, attractions of a gastronomic nature. Boys of nineteen sometimes possess wonderful appetites. But speculation apart, Franz and his cook consummated their happiness by matrimony, probably in 1783, and when the young husband removed to Gate of Heaven Street, an exceedingly good prospect of domestic provocation to industry helped him to settle down. His income was, of course, very small, but Providence has peculiar notions about the proportion of family to means. The proportion is often an inverse one, and inverse it was in the case of poor Franz. Elisabeth presented him with fourteen children, while, to make matters more incomprehensible, the pain and cost of bringing nine into the world went for nothing, owing to their speedy departure out of it. The five survivors were Ignaz, Ferdinand, Carl, Franz (our young Catholic of February 1, 1797), and Theresa. Of these, all the boys began life as schoolteachers, and the daughter married into the same profession, her husband, Mathias Schneider, becoming father of the Dr. Schneider, in whose famous cupboard Sir George Grove found the "Rosamunde" music. Let us add to these family details that, when Elisabeth Schubert died, in 1812, her husband speedily married again, and five other children came to augment alike his joys and sorrows.

Little Franz Schubert could not have had a very luxurious time during his childish days. There were too many in the family, and there was too little in the family purse for better than the hard life which respectable poverty entails. Happily, Providence had bestowed upon the child a gift which enabled him to create a world of his own - an enchanted world, where all was bright and lovely. He had in him the spirit of music, and circumstances, otherwise so forbidding, favoured its development. Music, like pedagogy, was a family appanage. The father played the violin, so did Ignaz and Ferdinand, the brothers. Ignaz could also play upon the pianoforte, and from him young Franz received his first lessons; the sire, meanwhile, teaching him the violin. But even before entering upon this course of home instruction, such as it was, the boy had found means to indulge his passion. While yet a mere toddler of five or six, he made close friends, as children sometimes will, with a joiner's apprentice - a namesake and a relative. Here was Franz's first hero - a big lad, no doubt, who could handle tools, who had a little money in his pocket sometimes, and knew, oh! so much about many things mysterious to the schoolmasters little son. Best of all, the joiner's apprentice had the entrée of a piano factory, and often would take Franz with him on a visit to the place. Then the boy's soul, we may imagine was "dissolved in ecstasy." At home there was only a poor old, cracked piano, that had long ago seen its best days, but the new ones in the factory were sonorous and eloquent enough to bring all heaven before the little boy's eyes. Upon them he practised his scales and exercises as best he could without a master, and when, having reached his seventh year, he passed under the regular tuition of his father and brother, there was general wonderment at what he knew and what he could do. In other matters he was quick to learn. His father tells us that, when at school in his sixth year, "he became distinguished invariably as the first of his compeers." At the same time Franz loved healthful play. "From early childhood he delighted in companionship, and was never happier than when at play in a circle of merry schoolfellows." Here we have the picture of a perfectly natural boy, mentally older than his years, but with the spirit and instincts of a child.

Franz made wonderful progress in music and knew it. Indeed, it is easy to suppose that his not very skilful teachers were rather afraid of him. He must have been to them an enfant terrible, especially when he coolly dismissed his brother as no longer of any use. "I was amazed," says Ignaz, "when Franz told me, a few months after we began, that he had no need of any further instruction from me, and that, for the future, he would make his own way. And, in truth, his progress in a short period was so great that I was forced to acknowledge in him a master who had completely distanced and outstripped me, and whom I despaired of overtaking." We are not told whether Franz treated his father in the same fashion, but Franz père must have been blind if he did not see that here was a child for higher and better teaching than could be given at home. Many a time, we may suppose, did father, mother, and elder brothers discuss the wonderful boy, and what to do with him. At last they made up their minds, and Franz was taken to Michael Holzer, a choirmaster in the Lichtenthal district, from him to receive lessons in thorough bass, and in playing the organ and pianoforte.

Worthy Master Holzer seems to have been one of the ordinary unaccentuated professors that swarm in German cities. Much learned perhaps, but little gifted, he was accustomed to plod along in musical ways, neither astonishing others nor being amazed himself. The new pupil from Gate of Heaven Street rather shook up the respectable choirmaster, and opened his eyes to undreamed of prodigies. He, too, must have been half afraid of Franz, and a little abashed to boot. Plodding, matter of fact Holzer frankly tells us that he could not make his little scholar out. "If ever I wished to teach him any thing new," says that excellent man, "I found he had already mastered it. Consequently, I cannot be said to have given him any lessons at all. I merely amused myself, and looked at my pupil with silent astonishment." Well he might, for young Franz had the power of anticipating the acquirement of knowledge by the exercise of an unerring instinct. He would extemporise on a theme in such a manner as to run beyond books he had never even begun, and Holzer, listening to him, would exclaim, 'He has harmony at his fingers' ends!" Upon this Sir George Grove pertinently remarks: "Such astonishment was natural enough but it would have been far better if he had taught him counterpoint." It appears, indeed, that the boy was "too clever by half," and his teachers sat in mute admiration of natural gifts which they should carefully have trained.

It would seem that young Franz practised composition even at this early period. According to his brother Ferdinand, his first work was a pianoforte piece for four hands, written in 1810, when Schubert was in his thirteenth year, but Kreissle von Hellborn speaks of songs and even string quartets bearing an earlier date. It is very easy to believe this. No doubt the boy began to write music as soon as he began to think it.

Schubert's fame as a "wonder-child" naturally spread through the Lichtenthal, and his fine treble voice made him a desirable youth in the eyes of choirmasters. So, at eleven years of age, he entered the choir of the parish church, as solo boy and violinist. Von Hellborn writes of surviving members of the congregation who recall the charm of his singing, "marked by correct and delicate expression." This, of course, was too good for the frequenters of a mere parish church and Franzpère soon began to look higher for his hopeful son. "The Court Chapel is the place" thought the ambitious parent, and he at once enrolled young Franz among the candidates. There were a number of these, and on October 9, 1808, all had to appear for trial before an awful tribunal consisting of the two Imperial Kapellmeisters, Salieri and Eybler. For this momentous occasion Franz was dressed up in his best, though that was not much to boast of. He wore, we are told, an old blouse that, once blue, had washed nearly white; and the garment excited the ridicule of his fellow competitors. "Why, here's a miller's son!" exclaimed the Viennese youths, with the delicacy that distinguishes boys all the world over. There may have been, and probably was, something grotesque in the lad's appearance. His squat figure, round face, and rebellious hair were not prepossessing, nor, when he he passed in to the examiners, can we suppose that he looked the conquering hero of the occasion. But as Franz opened his mouth things took another turn. The "miller's son" carried all before him. Difficulties were not such to him, and the sweet boyish voice pleaded eloquently in his favour. The examiners at once admitted him, and from that hour Schubert became a chorister of the Imperial Chapel, with the right to wear a resplendent uniform, and the privilege of board, lodging, and education in the choristers' school, known as the Convict.

Our young hero now entered upon a new phase of his career. He was separated from home and friends to a large extent, but against this could be set the fact that he lived in an atmosphere of music, which was to him the very breath of life. This became more and more evident as time went on. The education given in the Convict was general as well as special. Mathematics, geography writing, French, Italian, and other branches of a "polite education" were taught by a staff of masters, who, for a while had no trouble with their new pupil. But after a year, Franz fell hopelessly out of the race for the prize of general proficiency. Music claimed him more and more, and for his beloved art he neglected all things. Opportunities of indulging this passion were liberally afforded, especially through the medium of a small orchestra, composed of the boys and their teachers. In this Schubert played one of the first violins; sitting behind the leader - a big boy named Spaun, some seven years his senior. On the first occasion Spaun was astonished to hear an unusually excellent violin in rear, and, turning round, saw a small boy in spectacles named Franz Schubert. He at once took kindly to the small boy, and the two soon established relations of mutual confidence. The orchestra played the symphonies of the day with much assiduity, and young Schubert fed largely upon Haydn, Mozart, Krummer, Kozeluch, and others of more or less note. Sometimes, moreover, the earlier symphonies of Beethoven were tried, no doubt dubiously and as curiosities. These works, however, appealed more than all to the romanticism of Schubert's nature. He recognised them as kindred to himself, and, from that time, lowly worshipped at the shrine of the great master, whose companionship, though they were citizens of the same City, he unhappily never enjoyed. So ardently did our hero enter into this orchestral work, that he at length became leader and deputy conductor - a proud post which he would not have exchanged for the throne of the realm.

All this while the creative genius in Schubert was burning to exercise itself. The boy wrote incessantly, or, at any rate, whenever he could lay hands upon a scrap of music-paper. Want of paper seems to have been his chief difficulty. He had no money for its purchase, and the regulations of the Emperor's school were drawn up with such economy that it was not provided. In this strait, Schubert confessed to his friend Spaun the obstacle that lay in his path, whereupon the good-natured senior took care that a supply of paper was forthcoming. Sir George Grove gives some very interesting particulars of the works that now sprang from his teeming brain. They seem to have tumbled over each other in their hurry to issue forth, and to have been created with an impulse that never allowed reflection. We read of a Pianoforte Fantasia in a dozen movements, all of different character, and ending in a different key from that in which the work opens. Of another work - a song called "Hagar's Lament" -Kreissle von Hellborn says: "This lengthy and plaintive composition is extended over no less than twenty-eight pages, and is divided into several parts entirely distinct from one another in key and rhythm. It contains two short recitatives. This work certainly suffers from its fragmentary character; the vocal intervals are at times forced the sequences harsh, and the pianoforte accompaniment here and there reminding the hearer of Zumsteg and Mozart. Still the work, viewed as a whole has a value of its own, and never fails to make an impression when well executed by competent singers. There are some passages which breathe unmistakably the spirit of Schubert, and from these one catches, almost imperceptibly, the rustling of the wings of this gemus." According to some authorities, it was this piece which specially attracted Salieri's attention and led him to arrange for Schubert's instruction in thorough-bass. Other works mentioned as belonging to this early period are a "Corpse Fantasia" - a setting of some gloomy lines by Schiller, and a Christmas piece for voice and piano, pleasantly entitled "The Parricide."

It is clear from the foregoing particulars that Schubert wrote as one "possessed." The question with him was not so much of art as of utterance, and he disregarded the rules of the one in order to enjoy the full liberty of the other. Whatever came to his mind was flung on paper, and in all things he obeyed the dictates of his artistic impulse. Such a lad should have the bit in his mouth, and the reins in the hand of a firm and judicious guide. This, however, was never Schubert's position, for even when Salieri handed him over to Ruczizka for thorough-bass lessons that professor did little save hold up amazed hands and exclaim, "He knows everything and God has been his teacher."

At a later period, Salieri himself took Schubert in hand, but master and pupil, though on excellent terms together, were not quite of one mind. The Italian musician desired to train Schubert as he himself had been brought up, whereas the young genius preferred German methods. Mozart and Haydn were his idols and he would sacrifice on no other altars. This ultimately led to a rupture between the two. According to Schubert's friend and boon companion, the breach took place because Salieri cut out or corrected all the passages in his pupil's Mass in B which reflected Haydn or Mozart. This is most probably the truth, but from the first the formal Italian and the impulsive young German were ill-assorted, and very little was required to break the connection. How closely Schubert clung to Mozart appears from an entry in his diary, where we read: "Gently, as if out of the distance, did the magic tones of Mozart 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 upon our souls!" Adoration such as this was not likely to cease at Salieri's command.

Meanwhile, Schubert went on composing as though for dear life. It would serve little purpose to give here a catalogue of his productions during the last three years at the Convict. Enough that they were many, and ranged over a wide extent of ground; from cantatas to songs, and from overtures to pianoforte pieces. He closed the list with a Symphony in D, played from MS. at the Crystal Palace in 1881, and since published by Breitkopf and Härtel. This was composed to celebrate the birthday of Dr. Innocenz Lang, director of the School, in whose honour the pupils performed it.

Schubert left the Convict, after five years' residence, at the end of October, 1813. He was then in his seventeenth year, and his boyish voice had broken. Yet he might have remained longer, and, it is said that proposals were made to establish him on the foundation. But the youth longed for liberty, prompted thereto, perhaps, by a nature which was more jovial than circumspect. At any rate, he returned home, about the time when his father took a second wife.

That the Convict was not the best school for our young genius is perfectly clear. It did not subject him to the rigid course of training which his gifts required, nor does it seem to have exercised even a guiding influence. Schubert followed what was right in his own eyes, and hardened into practices the full disadvantage of which he saw and regretted in after life. In other respects the School had its drawbacks. Life there was very hard. A Spartan severity presided over the arrangements, even to the extent of denying growing lads enough to eat. We get a glimpse of this through a letter written by Schubert, in 1812, to his brother Ferdinand:-

"I've been thinking a good long time about my position, and find that it's very well on the whole, but that in some respects it can be improved. You know, from experience, that one can enjoy eating a roll and an apple or two, all the more when one must wait eight hours and a half after a poor dinner for a meagre supper. This wish has haunted me so often and so perseveringly that at last, nolens volens, I must make a change. The few groschen my father gave me are all gone to the devil - what am I to do the rest of the time? 'They that hope in Thee shall not be ashamed' (Matt. ii. 4). so I thought. Supposing you advance me monthly a few kreutzen. You would never miss them, whilst I should shut myself up in my cell and be quite happy. As I said, I rely on the words of the Apostle Matthew, who says: 'Let him that hath two coats give one to the poor.' Meanwhile, I trust you will listen to the voice which unceasingly begs you to remember your loving, hoping, poverty-stricken - and once again I repeat poverty-stricken - brother, -FRANZ."

After hearing this cry of a hungry boy, we are not surprised that Schubert left the Convict as soon as he could, and went forth to liberty and enjoyment. Poor fellow, what remained for him was scarcely better than his past experience.