May - 1821-22, Publications, more operas, the Unfinished

SCHUBERT, as we have seen, gained little by offical testimonials. The friendship and good offices of the Sonnleithner family were of far more service to him, by affording a direct means of bringing his works into contact with an influential section of the public. Dr. Sonnleithner, the head of the household in question, was a lawyer of cultivated artistic tastes, which he gratified by gathering under his roof from time to time the best artists present in Vienna. The meetings began in May, 1815, and continued till February, 1824. They were held every Friday evening during the summer months and once a fortnight during the winter, attaining eventually so great a reputation that a desire to attend them became wide-spread and rather embarassing. On these occasions Schubert's music was largely performed; the "Erl-King," amongst other works, being first heard at a Sonnleithner gathering, where it was sung by an amateur named Gymnich. That famous inspiration made a deep impression, as well it might have done, and was the means of enabling Schubert to see himself in print. The younger Sonnleithner went, first of all, to some of the great publishing houses in Vienna, such as those of Diabelli and Haslinger, offering them the MSS. of Schubert's collected songs for a trifle. But no one would take them even as a gift. The commercial eye could see nothing but the works of an unknown man who wrote difficult accompaniments, and the commercial mind declined to do business. Under these circumstances a few friends clubbed together; the pieces were engraved at their expense, and at Sonnleithner's next gathering a hundred copies were subscribed for. So great, indeed, was the success of this enterprise that the composer paid all his debts and was left with a round sum in hand. His good fortune did not end here. In March, 1821, the influence of the Sonnleithners secured places for three of his pieces in the program of a public concert. One of these was the "Erl-King." It took the audience by storm, was encored amid tumultuous applause and then, let us add, Diabelli was glad enough to buy it. Schubert's "Geisterchor" had a different reception at the hands of the same audience, who, by asserting strict impartiality, enhanced the value of their judgment upon the "Erl-King." Kreissle says of this fiasco: "The singers, impressed with the majestic character of the work, expected to be vehemently applauded, but there was an ominous silence and the eight victims on the altar of musical insensibility withdrew in confusion from the scene, looking very much as if shivering from the effects of a cold douche suddenly poured over their heads." They shivered again, perhaps, on reading a criticism which appeared in the Allgemeine Musik Zeitung: "The eight-part chorus, by Herr Schubert, was recognised by the public as a farrago of all sorts of musical modulations and vague departures from ordinary forms - no sense, no order, no meaning. The composer in this work resembles a waggoner, who drives a team of eight horses, and turns now to the right, now to the left, getting at one time off the road, then upsetting, and pursuing this game without once making any honest way." Schubert could afford all this in the flush of the success made by his songs, but he does not seem to have been turned aside by either praise or blame from his careless, laissez faire habits. He left his friends to manage business matters on his behalf, and could be absolutely depended upon to assist them in nothing. There is an extant letter from one of the Sonnleithners which throws a strong light upon the composer's happy-go-lucky nature:-

"I beg you to take particular care and see that Schubert comes to morrow to Frl. Linhardt, to rehearse with her 'Der Jungling,' which she sings with me; and afterwards, that Schubert comes to me on Wednesday, at half-past twelve o'clock, to try over his 'Geisterchor.' I count on your good services to get Schubert to be certain and attend these rehearsals. I must honestly confess my surprise that he never comes near me, as I am very anxious to speak to him about his 'Erl-König' and other matters."

Had Schubert been so disposed he might, at this time, have taken a place in the high society of Vienna, by the side of Beethoven. But an invincible shyness, a sense of discomfort arising from unfamiliar and restraining surroundings, and the promptings of a nature which found its highest social good among free and easy friends - these things kept the composer back, with fatal effect to his worldly prospects. "He himself," writes Kreissle, "never expressed a wish to mix in society, where he was forced to get rid of his innate shyness, reticence, and a good natured nonchalent manner, but could not escape yielding occasionally to friendly pressure put upon him. The number, however, of the families in Vienna to which he, either from artistic reasons or the feelings of true friendship, was drawn into close relations for any length of time was, comparatively speaking, very small."

We have referred to Schubert's delight in a small circle of free and easy friends; very few of whom, by the way, were musisal. Only two professional musicians - Anselm Hüttenbrenner and Franz Lachner - formed part of the circle, the rest were poets, philosophers, artists, and others who delighted in indulging the native freedom of intellectual humanity. Certain gatherings of this confraternity were dubbed "Schubertiaden," and at them, we are told, " games were played, dances danced, speeches made, but Schubert's compositions formed the staple of the entertainment, and more particularly the last new songs from his pen." Besides these Schubertiaden, the composer's friends joined in country parties and picnics, at which the flowing bowl was filled more often than prudence counselled. A high spirited, rollicking set were these young Viennese. They had few social scruples, and Schubert, who should have been sustaining the dignity of his art before the world, loved to dance, sings and drink with the best, or worst, of them.

The year (1821) during which the foregoing events happened was not the most prolific of Schubert's life. It produced some additional music to Herold's "Clochette" - a German version of that work being presented at the Court Theatre. A number of the master's finest songs were also written in 1821, but his chief effort was made in the sketch of the Symphony in E. As this sketch throws a valuable light upon Schubert's mode of working we offer no apology for transcribing Sir George Grove's interesting description of it:-

"It occupies 167 pages of 42 sheets (10 quires of 4 and one 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; Allegro giusto in E major. The Introduction and a portion of the Allegro are fully scored and marked, but at the 110th bar - 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 are in their way perfectly complete and orderly to the end of the Finale. Every bar is drawn in, the tempi and names of the instruments are fully written at the beginning of each movement, the nuances are all marked, the very double bars and flourishes are gravely added at the end of the sections, and Fine at the 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 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."

We may add that Sir Arthur Sullivan is credited with having at least thought of filling in the skeleton score, and that what Mendelssohn and Sullivan declined to do has since been accomplished by Mr. J. F. Barnett, whose version of the work obtained a hearing at the Crystal Palace and much praise for its cleverness.

Another important work was entered upon, but not completed, in 1821. We refer to the opera "Alfonso and Estrella," which first took form in Schubert's mind during an autumn holiday spent with his friend and librettist Schober, at the castle of Ochsenburg. The subjoined letter from Schober thows an interesting light upon the circumstances and experiences of the two friends in their Styrian retreat, as also upon the progress of the opera:-

"Schubert and I have returned from our visit, and look back with delight upon a happy month spent partly in the town, partly in the country. At Ochsenburg we had plenty to do in visiting the beautiful country in the neighbourhood, and in St. Pölten books and concerts absorbed our attention; spite of all this we both worked hard, Schubert especially - he has done nearly two acts, I am upon the last. I only wished you had been with us and witnessed the birth of those lovely melodies; the wealth and vigorous outpour of Schubert's fancy is really extraordinary. Our room at St. Pölten was exceedingly nice - two big beds, a sofa, and a good fireplace, not to mention a grand piano, gave it a very snug home appearance. Of an evening we always compared notes of what had passed during the day, we sent for beer, smoked our pipes, and read aloud. Perhaps Sofie or Netta would join us, then we had singing. Two 'Schubertiaden' were held at the bishop's house, and one at Baron Mink's, a favourite of mine, and a princess, two countesses, and three baronesses were present, all of whom were delighted in the most approved aristocratic fashion."

The letter then becomes uninteresting to readers at the present day, but Schubert himself adds a postscript in which he says, referring to a dedication of some songs to the Patriarch Ladislaus Pyrker and Count Friess:-

"I must now inform you that my dedications have done their duty, for the Patriarch, at the instance of Vogl, has expended twelve ducats, and Friess twenty, a fact which suits me extremely well.... Schober's opera has already got to the third act, and I should much like you to have been present whilst the opera was in its earliest stage of formation. We count a great deal upon the work in question."

Yet nothing came of it; it was not even performed till Franz Liszt produced the work at Weimar in 1854.

Going on into the year 1822 - twenty-sixth of the master's life - we find "Alfonso and Estrella" completed on February 27. As just stated, it did the composer little good. The libretto wanted dramatic strength, and the music was difficult - so said the managers in refusing to have anything to do with it. But the opera brought Schubert and Weber together with something of a collision at first. The North German composer had come to Vienna (1823) for the purpose of producing his "Euryanthe," which Schubert heard, and somewhat freely criticised, declaring himself ready to prove, even to Weber, that the opera did not contain a single original melody. When it was remarked that music had entered upon a new phase, and Weber sought effects from heavy masses, Schubert retorted: "What good are heavy masses? 'Der Freischütz' was so genial, so full of heart, it bewitched you with its loveliness, but in 'Euryanthe' very little geniality can be found." Tale-bearers at once carried these remarks to Weber, who contemptuously observed: "Let the blockhead learn something first before he presumes to judge me." This was turning the tables with a vengeance. Blockhead quotha! Schubert could not stand that, so, taking the score of "Alfonso and Estrella" under his arm, he started for Weber's lodgings to "have it out." Weber looked through the blockhead's work, and then twitted its composer with his harse criticisms upon "Euranthe." Schubert stuck to his guns like a man, and Weber fired back, referring to "Alfonso and Estrella": "I tell you that the usual course is for people to drown the first puppies and the first operas." Thus the two men could not agree, but they had no personal quarrel, and Weber even thought of producing Schubert's work in Dresden.

About this time our master had his first interview with Beethoven - that is to say, if Schindler's "Life" may be credited, in which we read:-

"In the year 1822, Franz Schubert set out to present in person the master he honoured so highly with his Variations on a French song (Op. 10). These Variations he had previously dedicated to Beethoven. In spite of Diabelli accompanying him, and acting as spokesman and interpreter of Schubert's feelings, Schubert played a part in the interview which was anything but pleasant to him. His courage, which he managed to retain up to the very threshold of the house, forsook him entirely at the first glimpse he caught of the majestic artist, and when Beethoven expressed a wish that Schubert should write the answers to his questions, he felt as if his hand were for tied and fettered. Beethoven ran through the presentation copy, and stumbled on some inaccuracy of harmony. He then, in the kindest manner, drew the young man's attention to the fault, adding that the fault was no deadly sin. Meantime, the result of this remark, intended to be kind, was utterly to disconcert the nervous visitor. It was not until he got outside the house that Schubert recovered his equanimity, and rebuked himself unsparingly. This was his first and last meeting with Beethoven, for he never again had the courage to face him."

It curiously exemplifies the historian's difficulty in getting at the truth that doubt is thrown upon Schindler's very circumstantial statement. Sir George Grove is a believer in it, but Dr. Kreissle seems to be among the doubters, and speaks of its "rather improbable details, so humiliating to Schubert." He then goes on: "It should be stated that a gentleman still living in Vienna, an intimate and trusted friend of Schubert's (Herr Josef Hüttenbrenner), shortly after the presentation of his musical work, heard from Schubert's own mouth that he certainly visited Beethoven, but that he was not at home, and that Schubert entrusted his Variations to the care of the housemaid or man servant, and consequently that at that time he neither saw nor spoke to Beethoven. Hüttenbrenner adds that Schubert subsequently heard with great pleasure of Beethoven's enjoying these Variations, and playing them frequently and gladly with his nephew Carl." Who is to decide when high authorities thus positively contradict each other? We, at any rate, shall not presume to do so, but may point out that there is nothing at all improbable in Schindler's statement. With regard to the relationship, or non-relationship, between Schubert and Beethoven, it is well to consider one important fact, which, with our present estimate of the younger master, is naturally overlooked. We must not forget that Schubert was to Beethoven as a small star to the noon day sun, both in his own eyes and in those of the public. It signifies nothing what he was in reality, or what he is now in the world's opinion. At the time of which we speak the two men were separated by a great gulf, and when Schubert looked at Beethoven he did so across an immense intervening space. Who, therefore, is surprised to find the small man approaching the great one - the awful ideal of his worship - with trepidation, increased by natural shyness and self-mistrust? To our mind the behaviour of Schubert, as Schindler describes it, is just what might have been expected by any one knowing the young composer, and the circumstances of the case. As for his conduct being "humiliating," two opinions are possible. We may regret that Schubert did not take full advantage of a rare opportunity, but, depend upon it, his nervous confusion lowered him not a whit in Beethoven's eyes, as cool self-assurance might easily have done.

While on this subject, it may be well to anticipate the course of our history, and present further statements of fact in relation thereto. Rochlitz visited Vienna in the summer of 1822 to see Beethoven on business, and in one of his letters he mentions Schubert thus:- "A fortnight afterwards (after his first interview with Beethoven) I was just going to dinner, when a young composer, Franz Schubert, an enthusiastic worshipper of Beethoven's, met me. Beethoven had spoken to him about me. 'If you want to see him cheerful and unconstrained,' said Schubert, 'You ought to dine in the same room with him at the Gasthaus where he always goes to dine.' He brought me to the house. The places were mostly taken; Beethoven sat surrounded by several of his friends, who were perfect strangers to me." If Beethoven spoke to Schubert about Rochlitz it is clear that they must have met, probably on the occasion described by Schindler. But it was in the last days of Beethoven's life that the greatest of masters became acquainted, through his works, with the young composer destined so soon to follow him to the grave. On this matter we read in Schindler:-

"I laid before him (Beethoven) a collection of Schubert's Lieder and vocal pieces, about sixty in number, and several of them at that time in manuscript. I did this not merely with the view of entertaining him, but of giving him an opportunity of fathoming Schubert, of forming a more favourable opinion of his gifts, which were regarded with suspicion and distrust by many eccentric persons who treated in the same manner others of their contemporaries. The great master, who, up to this time, knew but three or four songs by Schubert, was astonished at their number and could not believe that before that time (Feb. 1827) Schubert had written over five hundred. But if he was astonished at the number, his wonder was at its height when he examined the contents. For several days he could not tear himself away from perusing them, and he pored for hours daily over 'Iphigenie,' 'Allmacht,' 'Junge Nonne,' 'Viola,' the Müller Lieder, and others. He exclaimed repeatedly in a voice of rapturous delight, 'Certainly, a god-like spark dwells in Schubert.' 'Had I had this poem, I too would have set it to music.' He could not say enough of most of the other poems and Schubert's original method of handling them.... In short, the esteem which Beethoven felt for Schubert was so great that he wished to see his operas and pianoforte works; his illness, however, had so undermined his constitution that he could not gratify this wish."

It says much for the liberality of Beethoven's mind that on his death bed, he studied the works of men so diverse as Handel and Schubert, saying of the one "He is the master of us all," and recognising in the other the divine spark of genius.

According to Hüttenbrenner, who closed Beethoven's eyes in their last sleep, Schubert was once admitted to the sick master's room. Kreissle says, repeating Hüttenbrenner's words: "They (Schubert and the painter, Teltscher) stood a long time by the bed of the dying man. Beethoven, who had been beforehand informed as to his visitors, fixed his motionless eyes upon them, and made signs with his hand which they failed to interpret. Schubert, most deeply moved, then left the room, with his companion." Let us here add that Schubert was one of the thirty-eight torch bearers at Beethoven's funeral, and that on returning into town from the cemetery, he and some friends drank each two glasses of wine, one to the dead man's memory, another to the first of the company who should follow him. The first was Schubert himself.

Our master's productions in the year 1822, were, as usual, numerous. Among them were the two movements of the Unfinished Symphony in B minor - a first and glorious extension to orchestral music of the profound feeling and great originality shown in his songs and pianoforte works. Numerous Lieder bear this year's date; and the Mass in A flat received at this time the finishing touches. Moreover, the publication of Schubert's works went briskly on, quite a competition for his MSS. presenting a marked contrast to the time when Haslinger and Diabelli refused the "Erl-King." But the poor composer shiftless as usual, fared badly at the hands of the sharp business men who amassed wealth with the products of his brain. Vainly did his friends intervene; giving him good counsel, and even bargaining with the publishers in his stead. After his careless happy-go-lucky fashion, he would accept offers which upset all their calculations. Among other silly acts, he sold to Diabelli for 800 florins a set of songs, of which one, "The Wanderer," brought 27,000 florins within a year of publication. Among Schubert's friends Hüttenbrenner was conspicuous in pushing his interests with the publishers of North Germany. He applied to Peters, of Leipzig, amongst others, and there is extant a long letter from the head of that firm in which he laboriously tries to reason himself into a position where moral sense approves his saying "No." All that Peters would do then (look at his Schubert catalogue now!) was expressed in the following paragraph:- "I would therefore propose that Herr Schubert should send me for examination some of his works he intends for publication, for I print nothing of a young and little known composer without having seen it. If some great and well-known master does anything bad, the blame falls upon him, for his name is my surety; but supposing I publish anything of a new artist, and it turns out unsuccessful, I am blamed; for who forces me to print anything of the worth of which I am not persuaded in my own mind. Now, in this case, the name of the composer affords me no protection. Without doubt, Herr Schubert entrusts his works to perfectly safe keeping; he is assured against any possible abuse of trust. If I like them, I will retain all that I can."

So on, and on, through a wordy epistle which led to nothing at all; but, all the same, had Schubert acted with ordinary prudence, he might have laid the foundation of a competency. He had the ear of the Austrian public; his works sold well, and a fair proportion of the profit would have lifted him above the reach of poverty. We now close our record of the year l822 with mention of the fact that Schubert, about this time, refused one appointment, and was denied another. Through Vogl, Count Dietrichstein the Director of the Court music, offered Schubert the post of organist at the Imperial Chapel. It was rejected. Our master, confirmed in his irregular way of life, could not bear to contemplate the regular discharge of duty. He preferred a "crust of bread and liberty," even to the honourable servitude of a Court Organist. The place denied him was that of viola player in the orchestra of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde - a sufficiently humble office which, however, could not be his, for the reason that professional musicians were not eligible as members of the Society.

At this juncture in our master's life we pause. We now see him before the world; no longer writing songs for the delectation of a few private friends, and composing larger works with no purpose save that of gratifying an irrepressible impulse. He is a recognised composer at last. He has struggled out of darkness into light, and if he only go the right way to work, may reach fame and fortune together. But we know that this is not to be. A few more years of incessant labour, of thankless living under a cloud of poverty, of the "hope deferred which maketh the heart sick," and the drama of Schubert's life will be played to the end without a trace of the "poetic justice" which fancy invents to compensate for the harsh decrees of Fate. Yet Schubert had the talent of success if, as Longfellow says, it be "nothing more than doing what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do, without a thought of fame." Thus Schubert acted. He sowed seed to spring up and bear fruit a hundred-fold after his death, to the end of a deathless renown.