In the old Lichtenthal quarter of
the city of Vienna, in the vicinity of the fortifications,
there still stands an old house. It is evidently
a public house, for there hangs the sign-“At
the Red Crab.” Beside this there is a marble
tablet fastened above the doorway, which says that
Franz Schubert was born in this house. At the
right of his name is placed a lyre crowned with a
star, and at the left a laurel wreath within which
is placed the date, January 31, 1797.
This then was the birthplace of the
“most poetical composer who ever lived,”
as Liszt said of him; the man who created over six
hundred songs, eight symphonies, operas, masses, chamber
works and much beautiful piano music, and yet only
lived to be thirty-one. It is almost unbelievable.
Let us get a nearer view of this remarkable musician.
His father kept a school here; there
were five children, four boys and a girl to provide
for, and as there was nothing to depend on but the
school-master’s pay, it is easy to see the family
was in poor circumstances, though the wife managed
most carefully to make ends meet. They were a
very devoted family altogether. Little Franz early
showed a decided fondness for music, and tried to pick
out bits of tunes of his own by ear on an old dilapidated
piano the family possessed. He made friends with
a young apprentice who took him sometimes to a piano
wareroom in the city, where he was allowed to play
his little tunes on a fine piano.
When Franz was seven he began to have
music lessons at home, the father teaching him violin
and his big brother Ignaz, the piano. Franz,
in his eagerness to learn soon outstripped his home
teachers, and told them he could go on alone.
It was then decided he should go to the parish choir
master, Holzer, to learn piano, violin, organ, singing
and thorough bass. Soon Holzer was astonished
at the boy’s progress. “Whenever
I begin to teach him anything I find he knows it already;
I never had such a pupil before.” By the
time Franz was eleven, his voice had come out so well
that he was given the place of head soprano in the
parish church, and played violin solos whenever they
occurred in the service. He had even begun at
home to compose and write down little piano pieces
and songs. The parents considered that this remarkable
talent should be cultivated further, if possible, in
order that it might assist the slender purse of the
family. There was a choir school, called the
Convict, which trained its boys for the Imperial Chapel.
If Franz could prove his ability to enter this school,
he would receive free education in return for his services.
One fine morning in October, 1808,
Franz in his homespun grey suit, spectacles shielding
his bright, near-sighted eyes, his bushy black hair
covered by an old fashioned hat, presented himself
for examination by the Court Capellmeister and the
singing master. The other boys jeered at his
odd appearance, but he kept his good humor. When
his turn came to sing, after solving all the problems
given, his singing of the trial pieces was so astonishing
that he was passed in at once, and ordered to put
on the uniform of the imperial choristers.
The boy soon found plenty to fill
his time and occupy his mind. There was the school
orchestra, in which he was able to take a prominent
place. There was daily practise, in which the
boys learned the overtures and symphonies of Mozart
and Haydn, and even Beethoven. He loved best
Mozart’s “Symphony in G minor,” in
which he said he heard angels singing. The leader
of the orchestra was attracted to the lad’s
playing the very first day he entered, for he played
with such precision and understanding. One day
Franz mustered courage to talk a little to the big
conductor, whose name was Spaun, and confessed he
had composed quite a good deal already, adding he would
like to do it every day, only he could not afford
to get the music paper. Spaun received this burst
of confidence with sympathy, and saw to it that the
boy was, in the future, supplied with the necessary
music paper.
Franz had soon made such progress
on the violin, that he began to take the first violin
parts and when the conductor was absent he was asked
to lead the orchestra. Indeed by his deep earnestness
and sincerity, as well as ability, the gifted boy
had become a power in the school. When he went
home to see his people, which could only be on Sundays
and holidays, it was a happy reunion for all.
If he brought home a new string quartet, the father
would get out his ’cello, Ignaz and Ferdinand
would take first and second violins and the young composer
the viola. After it had been played through, then
all the players discussed it and offered their criticism.
Indeed Franz was composing at such an astonishing
rate, that it was difficult to keep him supplied with
music paper. One of his works of this time was
a fantasia for four hands, in twelve movements.
Then came a first attempt at song writing, a long
affair which also contained twelve movements, and
was in melancholy mood.
Five years the boy Franz Schubert
remained at the Convict School and as he had decided
to give himself entirely to music, there was no reason
for his remaining longer in the school. At the
end of the year 1813, he left, and his departure was
celebrated by the composition of his first Symphony,
in honor of Dr. Lang, the musical director. The
lad, now seventeen, stood at the beginning of his career;
he was full of hope and energy, and determined to
follow in the footsteps of the great masters of music.
Of all his compositions so far produced, his songs
seemed to be the most spontaneous. He probably
did not guess that he was to open up new paths in
this field.
Hardly had he left the school when
he was drafted for the army. This meant several
years of virtual captivity, for conscription could
not be avoided. The only other thing he could
do was to return home and become a teacher in his
father’s school. He chose the lesser evil
and qualified at once to become his father’s
assistant, which would also assure him a certain amount
of leisure. We can imagine him installed as teacher
of the infant class, and realize how distasteful was
the daily round of school work, and how he longed
to have it over, that he might put on paper all the
lovely themes that had come to him through the school
day. Other bright spots were the happy hours he
spent with the Grob family, who lived also in the
district of Lichtenthal. The family consisted
of a mother, a son and daughter. They were all
musical. Therese Grob had a fine voice and she
enjoyed the songs Schubert brought her to sing, while
her brother Heinrich could play both piano and ’cello.
Many evenings filled with music were passed by the
young people. His friends at the Convict too,
welcomed each new piece he wrote. Nor did he
forget his old master Holzer, the organist of the
little church where the composer himself regularly
attended. During 1814, Schubert composed his
first mass, which was performed October 16. It
excited so much interest that it was repeated ten days
later at the Augustine church. Franz conducted,
the choir was led by Holzer, Ferdinand sat at the
organ, and Therese sang the soprano solos. In
the audience sat old Salieri, Court Capellmeister of
Vienna, with whom Beethoven had studied. Salieri
praised Schubert for his work, and said that he should
become his pupil. He kept his word and gave the
young composer daily lessons for some time. The
father was so proud and happy that he bought a five
octave piano for his boy, to celebrate the event.
Schubert added many compositions to
his list this year, among them seventeen songs, including
“Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel.”
His acquaintance with the poet Johann Mayrhofer, with
whom he soon became intimate, was of benefit to both.
The poet produced verses that his friend might set
to music. The following year, 1815, he wrote a
hundred and thirty-seven songs, to say nothing of six
operas, and much music for church and piano.
Twenty-nine of these songs were written in the month
of August. One day in August eight songs were
created; on another day seven. Some of the songs
were quite long, making between twenty and thirty
pages when printed.
A new friend came into Schubert’s
life the next year. His name was Franz Schober,
and he intended entering the University in Vienna.
Being a great lover of music and also familiar with
some of Schubert’s manuscript songs, he lost
no time, on arriving in Vienna, in seeking out the
composer. He found the young musician at his desk
very busily writing. School work was over for
the day, and he could compose in peace. The two
young men became friends at once, for they felt the
sympathetic bond between them. They were soon
talking as though they had always known each other.
In a few words Schubert told his new friend how he
was situated at home, and how he disliked the daily
drudgery of school teaching. On hearing of these
trials Schober suggested they should make a home together,
which arrangement would free the composer from the
grinding life he was living and enable him to give
his whole time to his art. The proposal delighted
Franz, and the father willingly gave his consent.
And so it came about that the composer was free at
last, and took up his abode at his friend’s
lodgings. He insisted on giving him musical instruction,
to make some return for all his kindness, though this
did not last long, owing to the dislike Franz always
had for teaching of any sort.
Schubert, at the age of twenty-four,
had composed a great quantity of music, but none of
it had as yet been published. He was almost unknown,
and publishers were unwilling to undertake issuing
the work of an unknown man. When his songs were
performed by good artists, as had been done a number
of times, they won instant recognition and success.
Seeing that the publishers were unwilling to print
the work of an unknown musician, two of Schubert’s
friends undertook to publish the “Erlking,”
one of his first songs, at their own risk. At
the Sonnleithner mansion, where musicals were regularly
held, the “Erlking” had been much applauded,
and when it was decided to have it published, the
decision was announced. A hundred copies were
at once subscribed for, and with this encouragement
the engraving of the “Erlking” and “Gretchen
at the Spinning Wheel” was forthwith begun.
The pieces were sold by the music publishers on commission.
The plan succeeded beyond expectation, so that other
songs were issued in the same way, until, when seven
had appeared the publishers were willing to risk the
engraving of other songs themselves. Before all
this had taken place, Johann Vogl, an admired opera
singer in Vienna at the time, had learned Schubert’s
“Erlking,” and had sung it in March, 1821,
at a public concert patronized by royalty. The
song was received with storms of applause. Schober,
who knew the singer, constantly talked to him about
the gifts of his friend and begged him to come and
see Schubert. At last one day he consented.
They found the composer hard at work as usual, music
sheets covering the floor as well as the table and
chair. Vogl, used to the highest society, made
himself quite at home and did his best to put Schubert
at his ease, but the composer remained shy and confused.
The singer began looking over some manuscripts.
When he left he shook Schubert’s hand warmly,
remarking; “There is stuff in you, but you squander
your fine thoughts instead of making the most of them.”
Vogl had been much impressed by what
he had seen that day, and repeated his visit.
Before long the two were close friends. Schubert
wrote to his brother: “When Vogl sings and
I accompany him, we seem for the moment to be one.”
Vogl wrote of Schubert’s songs that they were
“truly divine inspirations.”
Schubert’s residence with his
friend Schober only lasted six months, for Schober’s
brother came to live with him, and the composer had
to shift for himself. Teaching was exceedingly
distasteful to him, yet as his music did not bring
in anything for years after he left home, he had to
find some means of making a living. In these straits
he accepted a position as music teacher in the family
of Count Johann Esterhazy. This meant that he
must live with the family in their Vienna home in
winter, and go with them to their country seat in the
summer. The change from the free life he had enjoyed
with his friends who idolized him and his beautiful
music, to the etiquette of aristocratic life, was
great. But there were many comforts amid his
new surroundings; the family was musical, the duties
were not heavy, and so Schubert was not unhappy.
At the Esterhazy country estate of
Zelesz, he heard many Hungarian melodies sung or played
by the gipsies, or by servants in the castle.
He has employed some of these tunes in his first set
of Valses. In his present position he had much
leisure for composition. Indeed Franz Schubert’s
whole life was spent in giving out the vast treasures
of melody with which he had been so richly endowed.
These flowed from his pen in a constant stream, one
beautiful work after another. He wrote them down
wherever he happened to be and when a scrap of paper
could be had. The exquisite song “Hark,
Hark the Lark” was jotted down on the back of
a bill of fare, in a beer garden. The beautiful
works which he produced day after day brought him
little or no money, perhaps because he was so modest
and retiring, modestly undervaluing everything he
did. He had no desire to push himself, but wrote
because impelled to by the urge within. So little
did he sometimes value his work that a fine composition
would be tucked away somewhere and quite forgotten.
His physical strength was not robust enough to stand
the strain of constant composition. Then too,
when funds were very low, as they often were, he took
poor lodgings, and denied himself the necessary nourishing
food. If he could have had a dear companion to
look after his material needs and share his aims and
aspirations, his earthly life might have been prolonged
for many a year. With no one to advise him, and
often pressed with hunger and poverty, he was induced
to sell the copyrights of twelve of his best songs,
including the “Erlking” and the “Wanderer,”
for a sum equal to about four hundred dollars.
It is said the publishers made on the “Wanderer”
alone, up to the year 1861, a sum of about five thousand
five hundred dollars. It is true that “everything
he touched turned to music,” as Schumann once
said of him. The hours of sleep were more and
more curtailed, for he wrote late at night and rose
early the next day. It is even said he slept
in his spectacles, to save the trouble and time of
putting them on in the morning.
In Schubert’s boyhood, the music
of Mozart influenced him most. This is seen in
his earlier compositions. Beethoven was a great
master to him then, but as time went on the spell
of his music always grew stronger. In 1822, he
wrote and published a set of variations on a French
air, and dedicated them to Beethoven. He greatly
desired to present them in person to the master he
adored, but was too shy to go alone. Diabelli,
the publisher, finally went with him. Beethoven
was courteous but formal, pushing paper and pencil
toward his guest, as he was totally deaf. Schubert
was too shy to write a single word. However he
produced his Variations. Beethoven seemed pleased
with the dedication, and looked through the music.
Soon he found something in it he did not approve of
and pointed it out. The young author, losing
his presence of mind, fled from the house. But
Beethoven really liked the music and often played
it to his nephew.
Five years later, during his last
illness, a collection of some sixty of Schubert’s
songs was placed in his hands. He turned them
over and over with amazement and delight. “Truly
Schubert has the divine fire,” he exclaimed.
He wanted to see the composer of such beautiful music.
Schubert came and was allowed to have a talk with him
first, before other friends who were waiting.
When Schubert paid another visit to the bedside of
the master, it was almost the end of his life, though
he could recognize all who stood about him. Overcome
with emotion, Schubert left the room.
A couple of weeks after this Schubert
was one of the torch bearers who accompanied the great
master to the last resting place. Little did the
young man of thirty dream that he would soon follow
after. His life at this time was full of disappointments.
He had always longed to write for the lyric stage.
He composed numerous operas; but they were always
rejected, for one reason or another. The last,
“Fierabras,” which was on the point of
being produced, was finally given up. The composer
became very dejected, and believed himself to be the
most unfortunate, the most miserable being on earth.
But, fortunately for Schubert, his cheerfulness again
asserted itself and the stream of production resumed
its flow. With his temperament, at one moment
he would be utterly despairing, the next his troubles
would seem to be forgotten, and he would be writing
a song, a symphony or a sonata. At all events,
constant work filled his days. The last year of
his life was productive of some of his finest works.
About the end of October, 1828, he
began to show signs of a serious breakdown. He
was living at the home of his brother Ferdinand, in
one of the suburbs of the city. Although he revived
a little during the early part of November, so that
he could resume walks in the neighborhood, the weakness
increased, and eleven days passed without food or
drink. Lingering till the nineteenth of November,
he passed peacefully away, still in his early manhood.
The old father, the schoolmaster at the old home,
hoped to have his son buried in the little cemetery
near by. But Ferdinand knew his brother’s
wish, to be placed near Beethoven in Waehringer Cemetery.
The monument, erected by his friends and admirers
the following year, bears, above the name, this inscription:
“Music has here entombed
a rich treasure, but much fairer
hopes.”