Essay

MUSIC IN THE WESTERN WORLD

A History in Documents

Selected and Annotated by

PIERO WEISS and RICHARD TARUSKIN Department of Music, Columbia University

SCHIRMER BOOKS

A Division of Macmillan, Inc. NEW YORK

Collier Macmillan Publishers LONDON

338 THE LATER NINETEENTH CENTURY

97

Schubert Remembered by a Friend

The first full-length biography of Schubert appeared in 1865 (the same year that saw the first performance of the Unfinished Symphony), or thirty-seven years after the composer's death. Schubert's brief career (he composed a vast amount of music within a span of little more than sixteen years) went virtually unnoticed by the world at large. It has been argued that his premature death deprived him of the recognition he would doubtless have gained, in time. But, as the following reminiscences by his close friend Josef von Spaun help to make clear, the com- parative neglect was at least partly due to Schubert's own set of values, which were typical of the new, Romantic generation: his art meant everything to him, and the requirements for self-advancement (impressing the fashionable world, appearing in public, and so forth) pained him. What a difference from the val- ues of the Enlightenment, when the artist's highest aspiration was "to please." The notes from which the following extracts are taken were written in 1858.

[When Schubert was about eleven years old] I once found him alone in the music room [at school,] sitting at the piano which, with his little hands, he already played quite nicely. He was just trying through a Mozart sonata, and said that he liked it very much but that he found Mozart very difficult to play well. At my request and aware of my sympa- thy, he played me a minuet of his own invention. He was shy about it, and blushed, but my approval pleased him. He told me that secretly he often wrote down his thoughts in music, but his father must not know about it, as he was dead against his devoting himself to music. After that I used to slip manuscript paper into his hands from time to time.

During the first days of September 1809 I left Vienna to start my ca- reer. At the end of March 1811 my fate took me back to Vienna. In 1812 he composed twelve minuets and trios, which were of extraordinary beauty.

About this time people began to pay attention to his talent. The old Court organist Ruzicka was engaged to give Schubert lessons in thor- ough bass. After only the second lesson the worthy old man, quite stirred by emotion, said to me in Schubert's presence: "I can teach him nothing, he has learnt it from God himself."

Now the barriers had fallen. The father recognized his son's great tal- ent and let him have his own way, and now began the series of his songs and sonatas. Some quartets, too, date from this early period.

One day when he sang me some little songs [he had composed to po- ^etry] by Klopstock, and I was utterly delighted with them, he looked me frankly in the eyes and said, "Do you really think something will come of me?" I embraced him and said, "You have done much already and time will enable you to do much more and great things too." Then he said

Schubert Remembered by a Friend 339

quite humbly: "Secretly, in my heart of hearts, I still hope to be able to make something out of myself, but who can do anything after Beetho- ven?"

Greatly as the circle now increased of those who admired Schubert's extraordinary talents and bestowed the greatest applause on his songs, he nevertheless remained without any substantial provision, and his position was a truly depressing one. No publisher could be found who would have dared to risk even a little for his magnificent creations. He remained for years a victim of money troubles, indeed he who was so rich in melodies could not even afford the rent for the hire of a piano. Yet the difficulties of his position did not check his industry in the least; he had to sing and compose, it was his life.

He ought to have given piano lessons in order to make a living, but that was a bitter task for him. In the morning he felt the urge to compose, and in the afternoon he wanted to rest and, in summer, go out of doors.

Finally, at the instigation of some kind friends, an edition of the "Erlkonig" was brought out at their own expense. The undertaking was a great success and yielded Schubert a not inconsiderable profit as the first fruit of his talent. Now the spell was broken and the publishers gradually accepted his compositions, but the modest Schubert (who, in money matters, was an absolute child) was satisfied with whatever they gave him, and so he still could not even earn the barest necessities of ex- istence.

Once when he was invited, with Baron Schonstein [who had an ex- cellent tenor voice], to a princely house in order to perform his songs before a very aristocratic audience, the enraptured audience surrounded Baron Schonstein with the most ardent appreciation and with congratu- lations on his performance. But when no one showed any sign of grant- ing so much as a look or a word to the composer sitting at the piano, the noble hostess, Princess K[insky], tried to make up for this neglect and greeted Schubert with the highest praise, at the same time suggesting that he overlook the fact that the audience, quite carried away by the singer, complimented only him. Schubert replied that he thanked the Princess very much but she was not to bother herself in the least about him, he was quite used to not being noticed, indeed he was really very glad of it, as it caused him less embarrassment.

Many people thought, and perhaps still think, that Schubert was a dull fellow with no feeling, but those who knew him better know how deeply his creations affected him and that they were conceived in suffer- ing. Anyone who has seen him of a morning occupied with composition, aglow, with his eyes shining and even his speech changed, like a sleep- walker, will never forget the impression. And how could he have writ- ten these songs without being stirred to the depths by them! In the after- noon he was admittedly another person, but he was gentle and deeply sensitive, only he did not like to show his feelings but preferred to keep them to himself.

340 THE LATER NINETEENTH CENTURY

Schubert did not get the recognition he deserved in Vienna. The great majority of people remained, and still remain, uninterested.

Nor are his songs suited to the concert hall or stage. The listener, too, must have a feeling for the poem and enjoy the lovely song together with it; in a word, the public must be quite a different one from that which fills the theatres and concert halls.

When publishers told him that people found the accompaniment to his songs too hard and the keys often so difficult, and that, in his own in- terest, he ought to pay attention to this, he always replied that he could not write differently and that anyone who could not play his composi- tions should leave them alone, and a person to whom one key was not as easy as another was, anyhow, not in the least musical.

Schubert's music must either be performed well or not at all. His incredible wealth of melody remains a treasure for all time, and

musicians yet unborn will gather spoils from this rich mine. In the span of time he was vouchsafed he wrote 600 songs, of which no one is like another, so rich was he in melodies.

Schubert was an affectionate son and brother, and a loyal friend. He was a kind, generous, good man.

May he rest in peace, and thanks be to him for having beautified the lives of his friends by his creations!

O. E. Deutsch (ed.), Schubert: Memoirs by his Friends (London: A. & C. Black, 1958), 126-27, 127-28, 133, 134, 135, 140-41. Reprinted by permission.

98

Paganini, the Spectacular Virtuoso

A "virtuoso" was, originally, a highly accomplished musician, but by the nine- teenth century the term had become restricted to performers, both vocal and in- strumental, whose technical accomplishments were so pronounced as to dazzle the public. Virtuoso singers, of course, had been the mainstay of Italian opera al- most from its beginnings. Virtuoso instrumentalists, on the other hand, really came into their own in the nineteenth century, with the spread of public concerts designed to cater to the vast new middle-class audiences. Niccolo Paganini (1782-1840), the greatest violin virtuoso of the century, emerged from his native Italy in 1828. Beginning in Vienna, where he created a sensation, he eventually took all of Europe by storm, leaving his audiences openmouthed at the un- precedented effects he produced on his instrument. "Unfortunately," wrote the Vienna correspondent of The Harmonicon, "the worst parts of his performance seemed to call forth the loudest applause, such, for instance, as his imitation of bells, his laborious performance upon a single string, &c., all of which, in the