March - 1817-19, Zelész, Schober, Vogl and Mayrhofer

REFERENCE was made in our last chapter to a friend who came in the nick of time and removed Schubert from the uncongenial drudgery of his father's school-room. We must now refer to him more particularly.

His name was Franz von Schober, and he was a native of Sweden, but born of German parents. When only fifteen years old Schober met with a few of Schubert's songs. They fascinated him completely, and he resolved, on going up to the Vienna University, in 1815, to make the acquaintance of their author. This he did by calling at the house of Schubert's father and introducing himself without ceremony. He found the young composer hard at work upon school exercises, and the generous impulse of youth at once moved him to the best possible course in the interest of his new-made friend. Not being himself in straitened circumstances, the thought occurred to him - Why should not Schubert share my board and lodging and be free to work at what is truly his vocation? No sooner said than done. Schober's mother, when dutifully consulted, agreed to the step. Schubert's father assented likewise, and forthwith the two young men "roomed" together in the Landskrongasse. It was, of course, understood that the musician should pay a share of the joint expenses, but the probability is that he contributed very little. The music-teaching Schubert obtained was soon thrown up, while the sale of songs, when effected at all, produced but a trifle. Of this, however, Schober did not complain, and his room-mate went on living an aimless sort of life - aimless in that it was not regulated to the attainment of definite objects - and he being content to vary the exercises of his talents as a composer with boisterous enjoyments in taverns and beer gardens, among people who could do him little good. Apropos, he made a significant entry in his diary about this time:-

"The opposite of human freedom is really the conventionality of city life. The necessity of observing this conventionality constitutes the happiness of fools, but the torment of sensible men."

It is to be feared that Schubert did not always recognise the necessity. There were times when he was very unconventional indeed, and those times would have come oftener, perhaps, but for the influence of Schober, who gathered around himself and necessarily around Schubert also, a circle of worthy companions.

This state of things did not last long. Schober's brother came to Vienna, and the composer had to vacate his room and seek another. What he did with himself does not seem quite clear. Sir George Grove speaks indefinitely, remarking that he "must have been indebted to Spaun or some other 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 he seems to have earned up to this date."

No thoughtful man can observe this part of Schubert's career without asking why it was that a young fellow of such transcendent genius, known to amateurs and professors of high rank and influence, was allowed or compelled to spend his time in obscurity. The fault must, no doubt, be laid at Schubert's own door. He had ambition of a vague kind, but his social tastes withdrew him from all the paths.that led to immediate distinction. While he moralised in his diary about the hardship of Fate. he never tested the question whether what he called Fate was not really his own folly. Boon companions of his own class, and pleasures more rude than refined, satisfied the nature which the divinest muse had chosen for her favourite dwelling.

About this time Schubert added another important personage to his list of friends. This was Heinrich Vogl, the singer, a man twenty years older than our young composer. The two were brought together by Schober; in what manner let Schubert's friend, Josef von Spaun tell:-

"Schubert, who had hitherto, for the most part been the interpreter of his own songs, aimed principally at getting hold of the Court opera singer Vogl, whose powers commanded his warmest admiration. It was of the first importance to get an opportunity for Vogl to become acquainted with Schubert's compositions; all the rest would follow as a matter of course, so the friends thought. Schober had often spoken to him with enthusiasm about the young composer, and invited him to be present at a sort of trial of his works. But at first all efforts were ineffectual to overcome the aversion of the singer, already wearied with music, and incredulous at the very sound of the word 'genius,' after his many and painful experiences. He was obliged at last, however, to give way to the repeated entreaties of Schubert's friends; the visit was promised, and, at the hour agreed, Vogl one evening came to Schubert's apartment, and the latter, entering with shuffling gait and incoherent stammering speech, received his visitor. Vogl, quite at his ease, scratched his nose, and taking up a sheet of music paper, which was near him, began humming the song 'Augenlied.' He thought it pretty and melodious, but not of any great value. Afterwards he ran, mezza voce, through several other Lieder, which he took to much more than the first, particularly 'Ganymed' and 'Des Schläfers Klage.' On leaving he tapped Schubert on the shoulder, exclaiming: 'There is some stuff in you, but you are too little of an actor, too little of a charlatan, you squander your fine thoughts instead of properly developing them.' Then he went away without making any promise of returning. But to others he spoke in favourable terms of Schubert. and in terms of astonishment at the ripeness and freshness of the young man's genius. By degrees the impression made on him by Schubert's songs became the weightier and weightier; he frequently came uninvited to Schubert's house, and studied his compositions with him, delighting himself and those who listened to him."

How true to nature and observation is this account of the meeting of Vogl and Schubert! The nonchalance of the famous singer, who had come as a patron and oracle, the embarrassment of the young man of genius, in whose little finger was more music than in fifty Vogls; the hesitancy of the artist with his "pretty and melodious, but not of any great value," and finally his discovery that the awkward, stammering youth was a heaven-sent composer - these things do not strike us as any other than what must have happened from the beginning, and will go on happening to the end. That Vogl became deeply impressed with Schubert is no wonder, and we refer to the fact only in order to quote an entry 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." Sir George Grove, in his article "Schubert" ("Dictionary of Music and Musicians"), very properly draws attention to the happy word "clairvoyance" - happy because the impressions conveyed by Schubert's songs is that he looked upon the sources and resources of music with a supernatural vision, and had only to transcribe what he found there. Thought seemed unnecessary to him and deliberation superfluous. He was as one "possessed" by the "demon" of his art, and it seems to have been by no means difficult for him to forget one week what he had written the week before.Apropos, it is said that on one occasion Vogl rewrote in a lower key a song which Schubert had sent him, took it to the composer, and sang it. Schubert listened with interest to his own strains, remarking, "I say, the song's not so bad. Whose is it?"

Vogl and Schubert laid the foundation of a lasting friendship by means of their early musical intercourse, and, no doubt, the younger man derived much help from the experience of the elder. But he should not have permitted tampering with his music - a process . which Vogl did not hesitate to carry on in the interest, we may be sure, of the vocalist rather than of the composer. Kreissle has a note on the subject which is not pleasant reading. He says:-

"Several of these (the songs) have passed thus metamorphosed into print, and a restoration of the original readings of all the genuine songs of Schubert would be an undertaking welcomed by all lovers of music, the more recent editions differing in reading from those first issued. Dr. Standhartner and Herr Spina have in manuscript Schubert's songs, with Vogl's clumsy alterations, which, being made in reference to the operatic singer, vary very materially from the original. The 'improvements' in the 'Müllerlieder' alone amount to a dozen. We come across some fearful alterations in 'Der Einsame' and in the 'Altschottischen' Ballade, and the process may have been repeated with others of the songs."

That these "fearful alterations" will have no place in the greatest edition of the composer's works now issuing from the house of Breitkopf and Härtel, may be hoped and expected.

For reasons already indicated, the year 1817 was an idle one by comparison with the prodigious activity of its immediate predecessors. Nevertheless, some memorable work was done in it, as, for example, the two Overtures in the Italian style - half-admiring, half-satirical imitations of Rossini's music, just then the rage in Vienna. Schubert also composed an Overture in D, and six Pianoforte Sonatas. including the published opera 122, 147, and 164. Two Sonatas for piano and violin (Op. 137), a string Trio, part of the Symphony in C (No. 6), and forty-seven songs also belong to the period under notice.

The year 1818 brought with it an entire change in Schubert's position. We have seen how he hated giving lessons in any form, preferring the most precarious means of living to independence purchased at such a price. But in view of an exceptional offer, and, perhaps, weary of living from hand to mouth, he consented to do what Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven had done before him - namely, take service as a teacher in the family of a nobleman. The place was obtained for the young man by Herr Unger (father of the singer, Caroline Unger), and, in the summer of 1818, Schubert travelled to Zeléész in Hungary, where his new master, Count Johann Esterhazy, had a château. The Count's family consisted of himself, wife, two daughters, respectively aged thirteen and eleven, and a son of five. These children it became our composer's business to teach at two gulden the lesson, with, of course, board and lodging in the establishment. The family, we are told, was exceptionally musical. The Countess (then twenty-eight) and her eldest child sang contralto; the second daughter had a good soprano voice; the Count was an efficient bass, and a frequent visitor, Baron von Schönstein, supplied a tenor. Of course, the pianoforte was studied by all the ladies, and thus the little circle in the Hungarian retreat comprised within itself the power of making much music. This must have proved some recompense to Schubert for the loss of his Viennese liberty, for absence from his old friends and haunts, and for the sense of embarrassment which a change from his associates at Viennese taverns and beer gardens to the caste of the Austrian Vere de Vere inevitably caused.

It is pleasant to believe that Schubert was very happy in Esterhazy's house. The family soon appreciated the worth of their music-master, and admitted him to unusual intimacy. They delighted to encourage him in composition and to perform his music, while every indulgence was extended to him consistent with the discharge of his duties. Hence we find him writing to Schober that he is thoroughly well, and composing like a god because free from anxiety. His relatives envied him such a position and Ignaz, his brother, wrote: "You lucky mortal! what a thoroughly enviable lot is yours! You live in a sweet golden freedom; can give full play to your musical genius; scatter your thoughts about just as you please; become petted, praised, idolised, whilst one of our lot, like an old cart-horse, must put up with all the vagaries of noisy boys, submit to heaps of ill-usage, and cringe in all submission to a thankless public, and stupid, addle-pated Brahmins." A subsequent letter from Schubert is not in the same strain as the first. The novelty of change had passed away, or he may have hankered after the flesh-pots of Vienna, or was momentarily in a depressed mood. At any rate, he wrote and grumbled thus: "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." He goes on to describe the household, and, naturally for him, begins with the servants' hall, where, as Sir George Grove observes, he seems "more at home than in 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 are good children. I need not tell you, who know me so well, that, with my natural frankness, I am good friends with everybody."

Another letter, written at this time to Schubert's brother, Ferdinand, is one of the many interesting features that distinguish Sir George Grove's article, before referred to. We take the liberty of quoting the more important passages:-

"It is half-past eleven at night and your Requiem (composed by Ferdinand, revised by Franz) is ready. It has made me sorrowful, as you may believe, for I sang it with all my heart.... Things are not going well with you; I wish you could change with me, so that for once you might be happy. You would 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.... 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.... 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 longging."

The Esterhazys did not leave Zelész for the capital till near the end of the year, and Schubert experienced "hope deferred, that maketh the heart sick." Meanwhile, his pen was not idle. He composed several songs during the autumn, and gathered material for future use, including the theme of the "Divertissement à la Hongroise," for four hands on one pianoforte. With reference to this well-known work, Kreissle writes:- "Schubert got the subject from the kitchen-maid in the Esterhazy family, who was humming it as she stood by the fireplace, and Schubert, coming home from a walk with Schönstein, heard it as he passed. He kept on humming the tune during the rest of the walk, and next winter it appeared as a subject in the Divertissement."

At the beginning of 1819 Schubert was back in his beloved Vienna, and lodging with Mayrhofer in the Wepplingerstrasse, where the two friends shared a dark, shabby, and badly furnished room. But poor lodgings, we may depend upon it, were no drawback to the composer's enjoyment. He preferred them with a right to do as he pleased, far before the stateliness of the Esterhazy abode and a need for best behaviour. Schubert's "wild shriek of liberty" is on record. He and his friends had sham fights in their lodgings, howled to the astonishment of the neighbours, cracked rough jokes and bandied about forcible repartees, in the manner of young men who having a vulgar element in their nature, are not scrupulous about its manifestation. Yet, in the midst of all this fury of life, he was not idle. He watched, with great interest and open-mindedness the progress of Rossini's music in Vienna, although the success of the Italian militated against the native school, and, consequently, against himself. While Beethoven stormed and sulked in alternation, Schubert picked up hints from the music of the "Swan of Pesaro." In a letter to a friend, he wrote: "One; cannot refuse to call Rossini a rare genius. His instrumentation is often original in the highest degree, and so is the voice writing and I can find no fault with the music, if I except the usual Italian gallopades, and several reminiscences of Tancredi." On the other hand, some German operatic music then being performed in Vienna excited his utmost contempt. He called it "Rubbish which makes one's hair stand on end." Between Rossini and the Weigls and Treitschkes, whom he despised, Schubert, as a composer for the lyric stage, had no chance. He wrote a one-act Singspiel, "Die Zswillingsbrüder," in January, but that was not heard till some time later, and diversified his labours by producing a number of songs, including four with sacred words. As far as can be made out, however, the early months of 1819 were comparatively idle. Schubert's teaching at the Esterhazys brought him a modest income, and he was simply content to make up for his previous separation from Viennese delights by plunging into them with redoubled ardour.

In the summer of 1819, Schubert and Vogl left Vienna on a trip to Upper Austria. Whether the composer had got a little money in his pocket just then, or Vogl found his purse long enough for both, does not appear. In either case, we may take it that Schubert's careless nature found reason to take things very easily, and get all the enjoyment possible out of them. Whither the friends fared, and what were the experiences they had, must form the theme of another paper.