Where Schubert lived most of his life. Franz Schubert: biography, interesting facts, video, creativity

In my deep conviction, Mozart is the highest, culminating point, to which beauty has reached in the field of music.
P. Tchaikovsky

Mozart is the youth of music, an eternally young spring, bringing to mankind the joy of spring renewal and spiritual harmony.
D. Shostakovich

D. Weiss. "Murder of Mozart". 26. Schubert

The day after a visit to Ernest Muller, Jason, driven by a desire to act, sent Beethoven, as a token of his admiration for him and to seal their agreement on the oratorio, six bottles of Tokay.

Jason attached a note to the gift: “I hope, dear Mr. Beethoven, that this wine will help you resist the ravages of time.” Beethoven responded quickly, sending a note of thanks in return. On reflection, Beethoven wrote, he decided that Mr. Otis and his charming wife should certainly talk with the young Schubert, because he had spent a lot of time in the company of Salieri and would be able to provide them with useful information; he, for his part, will put Schindler at their disposal, who will introduce them to Schubert. Therefore, Jason postponed his departure to Salzburg.

The Bogner Cafe, where Schindler had taken Jason and Deborah in hopes of introducing them to Schubert, seemed vaguely familiar to Jason. He's been here before, but when? And then he remembered. Bogner's Café was on the corner of Singerstrasse and Bluthgasse, between the House of the Teutonic Knights, where Mozart challenged Prince Colloredo, and the apartment on Schulerstrasse, where Mozart wrote Le Figaro. Every house here kept the memory of Mozart, and at this thought, Jason felt excited.

Apparently, Beethoven spoke of them extremely favorably, since Schindler was full of pleasantries and seemed to be looking forward to this meeting himself.

“You praised Beethoven very subtly and to the point,” said Schindler, “but Schubert is a man of a different sort. He despises praise. Even when it comes from a pure heart.

- Why? Deborah asked.

“Because he hates all kinds of intrigues. He believes that praise is always hypocritical, and intrigue is contrary to his soul, although in order to succeed in the musical world of Vienna, you must be able to intrigue - hence so many mediocrities thrive. And the works of Schubert are little known.

— Do you like his music? Jason asked.

- Oh yeah. As a composer, I respect him.

But not as a person?

He is very stubborn and extremely impractical. He should have been giving piano lessons to earn a living. You can't live on just writing music. But he hates to give lessons. Composing should be done in the morning, he says, just when lessons should be given, and afternoons should be devoted to reflection, and evenings to entertainment. He likes to spend time in a cafe in the company of friends. He can't stand being alone. No wonder he always has an empty pocket. It's stupid to waste so much time in a cafe.

However, the cafe itself seemed quite decent to Jason. The spacious hall could accommodate at least fifty visitors, however, the tables were almost close together. The air was saturated with tobacco smoke and the smell of beer; glasses and crockery clinked. Schindler pointed them out to a man with glasses sitting alone at a table, staring thoughtfully into an empty glass. “Schubert,” he whispered, and he, noticing Schindler, rose to meet him.

Schubert turned out to be a man of small stature and inconspicuous appearance, chubby, with a high forehead and long, curly dark hair, tangled like Beethoven's. And when Schindler introduced them to each other, Jason noticed that although Schubert was wearing a long brown frock coat, a white shirt and a brown tie that set off the color of his hair and eyes, the clothes looked untidy and testified to the owner’s complete neglect of her. Wine and grease stains covered his coat and shirt in abundance. Schubert was prone to corpulence and sweated profusely, as if the acquaintance procedure was not an easy task for him. Jason was struck by the fact that the composer turned out to be a little older than himself - in appearance he could have been twenty-seven - twenty-eight, no more.

When Schubert leaned towards Deborah, trying to get a better look at her - he was obviously short-sighted - she recoiled slightly; Schubert smelled strongly of tobacco and beer. But his voice sounded soft and melodious. He immediately launched into a conversation about Mozart with alacrity.

- He's brilliant! Schubert exclaimed, “no one can compare with him. Only Beethoven is capable of this. Have you heard Mozart's symphony in D minor? - Jason and Deborah nodded in the affirmative, and Schubert enthusiastically continued: - She is like the singing of angels! But Mozart is very difficult to perform. His music is immortal.

— And you, Herr Schubert, are you playing Mozart? Jason asked.

“Whenever possible, Mr. Otis. But not as masterfully as I would like. I am unable to practice because I don't have a piano.

— How do you write music?

— When I need a tool, I go to one of my friends.

“Mr. Otis is a great admirer of Mozart,” said Schindler.

- Wonderful! Schubert said. I also bow before him.

“Besides, Mr. Otis is a friend of the Master and enjoys his favor. Beethoven became very attached to Mr. and Mrs. Otis. They gave him many pleasant moments.

Jason was slightly discouraged by such a direct expression of feelings; and there was no need for Schindler to exaggerate his friendship with Beethoven. Jason was pleasantly surprised at how Schubert changed immediately; his face became surprisingly mobile, expressions of sadness and joy quickly replaced each other.

Imbued with confidence in them, Schubert came in a good mood and began to persistently invite them to his table.

- I was happy to return to Vienna again from Hungary, from the estate of Count Esterhazy, where I taught music to the family of the Count during their summer holidays. The money came in very handy, but Hungary is a boring country. To think that Haydn lived there for almost a quarter of a century! I'm waiting for friends. Now is a good time to talk before the noisy beer and sausage drinkers show up. What wine do you prefer, Mrs. Otis? Tokay? Moselle? Non-Smullerian? Seksardskoe?

“I rely on your choice,” she replied, and was surprised when he ordered a bottle of tokay, “after all, Schindler warned that Schubert was very short on funds, and although he barely had enough money to pay, he brushed off Jason’s offer to take care of the expenses. Wine made Schubert more talkative. He drained his glass at once and was saddened to see that they did not follow his example.

Jason said he loves Tokay and ordered another bottle. He wanted to pay for it, but Schubert would not allow it. The composer took a piece of paper out of his pocket, quickly jotted down a song, and handed it to the waiter as payment. The waiter silently took the notes and immediately brought wine. Schubert's mood lifted noticeably, and when Jason noticed that the tokay was expensive, Schubert waved it off:

— I write music to enjoy life, not to earn a living.

Deborah was embarrassed by the man who sat at the next table and kept his eyes on them.

- You know him? she asked Schubert.

He looked, narrowing his eyes, through his glasses, sighed sadly and calmly, as a matter of course, answered:

- I know well. Police inspector. And also a spy.

- What a cheek! Deborah exclaimed. “He is watching us frankly.

Why would he hide? He wants you to be aware of his presence.

"But why?" We didn't do anything wrong!

The police are always busy spying. Especially for some of us.

“Mr. Schubert, why should the police be following you?” Jason was surprised.

A few years ago, some of my friends were in student circles. Student circles are viewed with suspicion. A friend of mine, a member of the student union in Heidelberg, was expelled from the university, interrogated and then expelled.

“But what do you have to do with it, Herr Schubert?” Deborah asked excitedly.

- He was my friend. When he was arrested, I was searched.

"Let's leave this topic, Franz," Schindler interrupted. “What is there to talk about, besides, you remained free.

“They confiscated all my papers to examine them and see if I had any political connections with this friend or with his associates. The things were returned to me, but I found that several songs were missing. Gone forever.

“But you composed other, new songs,” Schindler emphasized.

- New, but not the same. And the title of my opera The Conspirators was changed to Home War. Terrible name. Outright mockery. Don't you think that soon they will ban dancing as well?

Stop it, Franz.

They banned dancing during Lent. As if on purpose they wanted to annoy me, they knew how much I love to dance. We meet in this cafe with friends and drink Tokay, let the police not think that we are members of some secret society. Secret societies and Freemasons are banned. Mr. Otis, do you like to swim?

No, I'm afraid of water. I'm mortally afraid, Jason thought.

“And I like to swim, but even that seems suspicious to the authorities. In their opinion, this contributes to the emergence of relationships that are difficult to keep track of.

“Mr. Schubert,” Jason finally decided, “don’t the circumstances of Mozart’s death seem strange to you?”

More sad than weird.

- Only and everything? Don't you think that someone deliberately hastened its end? Deborah wanted to stop Jason, but Schubert reassured her that the inspector was sitting far away, and the cafe was quite noisy. Jason's question seemed to puzzle Schubert.

“Mr. Otis is wondering if Salieri ever spoke in your presence about the death of Mozart. After all, you were his student for several years,” Schindler explained.

— Maestro Salieri was my teacher. But not a friend.

- But Salieri, probably, ever mentioned the death of Mozart? Jason exclaimed.

Why are you interested in this? Schubert was surprised. Is it because Salieri is sick now?

- There are rumors that he confessed in confession to poisoning Mozart.

There are a lot of rumors in Vienna, and not always true. Do you believe such recognition exists? Maybe it's empty talk?

- Salieri was an enemy of Mozart, everyone knows that.

- Maestro Salieri did not like anyone who threatened his position in any way. But that doesn't mean he's a killer. What evidence do you have?

- I'm looking for them. Step by step. That's why I wanted to talk to you.

- When I studied with him, many years after the death of Mozart, Salieri was no longer young, and a lot of time has passed since then.

- Didn't Salieri talk to you about Mozart? Schubert was silent.

“As soon as Mozart died, Salieri became the most prominent composer in Vienna, and, apparently, every aspiring composer considered it an honor to study with him,” Jason remarked.

Mr. Otis is very perceptive, thought Schubert. Mozart's music has always captivated him. And now he can hear it, despite the noise in the hall. It seemed to him that the police inspector craned his neck, trying his best to understand their conversation, but he was sitting too far away from them. Common sense whispered to him that he should refrain from such a dangerous conversation, it would not lead to good. He heard about Salieri's illness, about his confession to a priest, and that after this confession he was placed in an insane asylum. And since then no one has seen Salieri, although according to the court, in accordance with the will of the emperor, Salieri was granted a pension equal to his previous earnings - in gratitude for the services rendered to the throne. A generosity that a murderer could hardly have received. Or maybe the Habsburgs themselves were involved in this conspiracy? Or guilty of connivance? It's too risky to assume that. Schubert shuddered, realizing that he would never have the courage to express such guesses aloud. But he knew from his own experience that Salieri was capable of treacherous acts.

- Your respect for Mozart never outraged Salieri? Jason asked.

Schubert hesitated, not knowing what to say.

- You must have been influenced by Mozart, like Beethoven?

“I couldn't avoid it.

"And Salieri didn't approve of that, did he, Herr Schubert?"

“This greatly complicated our relationship,” Schubert admitted.

He could not resist confessing under the influence of a moment, and now he felt relieved. Schubert spoke in a whisper - except for those sitting at the table, no one could hear him. It seemed to him that he was freeing himself from a rope that had been strangling him for a long time.

- Once in 1816, on one Sunday, the fiftieth anniversary of the arrival of Maestro Salieri in Vienna was celebrated. On that day, he was awarded many awards, including a gold medal presented on behalf of the emperor himself, and I was to participate in a concert given by his students at Salieri's house. And I, as his best student in composition, was asked to write a cantata in honor of this significant date. It was considered a great honor. Most of the famous musicians of Vienna had once studied with Salieri, and twenty-six of them were invited to participate in the concert; nevertheless, my composition was included in the concert program.

And suddenly, a week before the concert, I was invited to his house. I got very worried. The students never visited the maestro at home, I myself had never been there, and therefore I went there in anxious and joyful anticipation. I was almost nineteen, and I considered this cantata to be the best of all that I had created. I was eager to get his opinion, but I was nervous. If he had rejected my work, my career would have been over. He was considered the most influential musician in the empire and could exalt a person or destroy him with his power.

A lavishly dressed footman led me to the maestro's music room, and I was struck by the magnificence of the furnishings, equal only to the imperial palace. But before I had time to come to my senses, Salieri entered the room through the glass door of the garden.

His appearance frightened me. I was a chorister in the court chapel until my voice began to break at the age of fifteen, and then I studied at the imperial court seminary and took composition lessons from Maestro Salieri twice a week. I have never seen my teacher so angry. His face, usually yellowish-pale, turned crimson, and his black eyes flashed lightning, and he seemed to tower over me, although he was almost the same height as me. Holding a cantata in his hand, he shouted out in bad German: “You have heard enough of harmful music!”

"I'm sorry maestro, I don't understand you." Is that why he called me?

"Almost all of your cantata is written in the barbaric German style."

Knowing about my short-sightedness, Salieri shoved a cantata almost under my nose. I began to peer intensely into the score and understood the reason for his anger: he crossed out entire passages from me. At that moment I experienced a terrible feeling, as if I myself had been deprived of an arm or a leg, but I tried to keep calm.

Salieri said: “I wanted to talk to you alone before your stubbornness gets you too far. If you continue to show such independence, I will be deprived of the opportunity to support you.”

“Maestro, let me look at my mistakes,” I asked timidly.

“Please,” he said disgustedly and handed me the score.

I was amazed. Each crossed out passage was written in the manner of Mozart; I tried to imitate the grace and expressiveness of his music.

I was studying the amendments, when suddenly he laughed evilly and announced:

“A German will always remain a German. There are wails in your cantata, some today consider it to be music, but the fashion for them will soon end.

I realized that he was referring to Beethoven here. To listen to Fidelio, I had to sell my school books, but how could I admit it? At that terrible moment I was ready to take flight, but I knew that if I succumbed to this weakness, all doors in Vienna would be closed to me. Hiding my true feelings, I obediently bowed my head and asked:

“Tell me, maestro, what is my mistake?”

"In this cantata you have moved away from the Italian school."

She's long outdated, I wanted to object; and if I took Mozart and Beethoven as models, then other students did the same.

“But I did not seek to imitate her, maestro. I prefer Viennese melodies."

“They are disgusting,” he announced. “I cannot allow your composition to be performed at a concert in my honor. It will embarrass me."

By that time I was hopelessly in love with Mozart, but more than ever I realized how dangerous it was to admit it. Any hint of Mozart's influence was unacceptable in the seminary, although Salieri publicly repeated his deepest admiration for Mozart's music. I perceived this as the natural envy of one composer for another, but then it seemed to me that perhaps another feeling was mixed with envy.

I felt like I was playing with fire. In desperation, I asked myself: should I leave writing? Is it worth it to spend so much effort to please others? But Mozart's voice constantly sounded in my soul, and even while listening to Salieri, I hummed one of his melodies to myself; the thought that I would forever leave the composition - my favorite pastime - caused me severe pain. And then I did something that I later regretted. With a pleading voice, I asked:

“Maestro, how can I prove to you my deep remorse?”

“It is too late to rewrite the cantata in the Italian way. I'll have to write something faster. For example, the piano trio.

And Salieri weightily continued:

“A small poem expressing gratitude for what I have done for my students will also come in handy and allow me to forget about your cantata. Remember, I recommend only those who know how to please me.

I agreed, Salieri walked me to the door.

Schubert was silent, immersed in sad thoughts, and Jason asked:

- What happened at the concert in honor of Salieri?

“My piano trio was performed at the concert,” Schubert replied. — I wrote it in the Italian style, and the maestro praised me. But I felt like a traitor. My poems, praising his merits, were read aloud, and they caused thunderous applause. The verses sounded sincere, but I was embarrassed. The way he dealt with my cantata did not give me peace of mind. If I couldn't learn from Mozart and Beethoven, music lost all meaning for me.

- When did you break up with Salieri? Jason asked.

- Oh yeah. To several places at once. But every time it turned out that he recommended not only me, but also others.

And who got these places?

— To those students whom he supported. I didn't like it, but what could I do? He allowed me to introduce myself as his student, which was already a great honor, and besides, I hoped that all was not lost.

- Do you have any other options? Have you had to turn to Salieri with another request?

“A few years later, when a position was vacated at the imperial court, I applied, but they refused me under the pretext that the emperor did not like my music, that his imperial majesty did not like my style.

- What did Salieri have to do with this? Deborah asked.

- Salieri was the musical director at the imperial court. Everyone knew that the emperor did not appoint anyone without consulting Maestro Salieri.

“So, in fact,” Jason put in, “none other than Salieri rejected your candidacy?”

- Officially, no. But unofficially, yes.

And you didn't protest?

Of course, he protested. But who could respond to my complaints? Does anyone understand someone else's pain? We all imagine that we live a single life, but in reality we are all divided. Moreover, if I now hold this position, I would not be able to hold on to it. Recently, I have been suffering from severe pain in my right hand, I cannot play the piano. Writing music is all I have left. I suffer from a serious illness, I just have the strength to hide it. From the greatest uplift of the spirit to simple human sorrows, there is only one step, and this has to be put up with. Noticing his friends at the door of the hall, Schubert asked: “Would you like me to introduce you?”

The offer seemed interesting to Jason, but Schindler's face was clearly not approving, apparently, many had already guessed the reason for their arrival, Jason thought and rejected the offer.

Schubert seemed to want to talk about Mozart as much as Jason did.

“Can you guess what kind of torment the other sometimes experiences? Mozart also knew mental anguish, perhaps this hastened his end. If he confessed everything to anyone, it was only to his wife. A person who composes beautiful music is not necessarily happy. Imagine a person whose health is weakening every day, mental anguish only brings him closer to the grave. Imagine a creator whose ardent hopes have been dashed - he has comprehended the finite frailty of things and, in particular, his own frailty. The most ardent kisses and hugs do not bring him relief. Every night he goes to bed, not sure if he will wake up in the morning. Is it easy for a young and full of strength to think about death? Imagine that there is no heaven or hell, and that eternal darkness will soon envelop you, where you will find yourself completely alone, far from everything and everything ...

Schubert grimaced, and Jason realized that he was talking not so much about Mozart, but about himself.

“Most people are afraid to think about their own death,” continued Schubert, “but once you realize its proximity, as Mozart was aware, as some of us are aware, everything becomes terrible. It is very likely that such thoughts hastened his end. He sped it up himself. Some of us will meet the same fate.

- In your opinion, Salieri had nothing to do with Mozart's death? Jason asked. "Even if he's lost his mind?" And pleaded guilty?

People tend to feel guilty. And Salieri has every reason for that. As for his madness, for some of us it is only one step away.

"Do you believe in his madness, Herr Schubert?"

I believe that everyone has their own limit. He just got there before the rest.

Schubert's friends approached their table. Jason was in no mood to exchange pleasantries, besides, he immediately recognized them as amateurs, albeit gifted, but still amateurs, who always surround real talent, like worker bees queen.

Saying goodbye, they began to make their way through the crowd of visitors to the exit. A kind of wall formed in front of them, through which they made their way with difficulty. Already at the very door, someone next to Jason stumbled and pushed him. Some drunk, he decided, but the man politely apologized; someone's mocking voice said: "Schubert, politician from the tavern!" Jason turned around. The speaker disappeared into the crowd. And at that moment, Jason felt a hand touch his chest. No, it's just a fantasy, apparently.

Already climbing the stairs of his house on Petersplatz, he suddenly discovered the loss of money. The money he had in his inner pocket disappeared without a trace.

Schindler said goodbye to them on the street and it was too late to turn to him for help. It dawned on Jason:

- The person who pushed me turned out to be just a pickpocket, and the other at that time distracted my attention. Something terrible has happened, Deborah, all the money has been stolen!

Did you take everything with you? After all, this is unreasonable!

- Almost all. After Ernest Müller got into our apartment without hindrance, I was afraid to leave money at home.

Or maybe you lost them?

- Not. He checked his pockets again. — Empty. Everything to the last coin.

Trying to hide her excitement, Deborah went to the toilet, and Jason decided to return to the cafe. Deborah was afraid to be alone, not to call Hans or Madame Herzog, she thought, but she abandoned this thought and, wrapping herself in a blanket, lay down in bed, trembling with nervous tremors and with difficulty holding back tears.

Jason almost ran to the cafe. He was surprised by the darkness reigning in the streets. It was past midnight, and he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following him around. The cafe was in darkness.

He left America with two thousand dollars in his pocket, received for hymns, and now there is nothing left of this large amount. He fell into a trap, it seemed to him that these searches had swallowed up a large, better part of his life.

Arriving home, Jason tried to hide his gloomy mood. Deborah lit all the fires, ran out to meet him, and threw herself into his arms, shaking with sobs. Jason didn't know how to comfort her. He understood that an ominous mysterious ring was closing closer and closer around them.

- How did the historical era influence Schubert's work?

What exactly do you mean by era influence? After all, this can be understood in two ways. As the influence of musical tradition and history. Or - as the impact of the spirit of the times and the society in which he lived. Where do we start?

- Let's go with musical influences!

Then we must immediately recall one very important thing:

IN THE TIMES OF SCHUBERT, MUSIC LIVED IN A SINGLE (TODAY) DAY.

(I pass it on in capital letters!)

Music was a living process perceived "here and now". There was simply no such thing as "history of music" (in school language - "musical literature"). Composers learned from their immediate mentors and from previous generations.

(For example, Haydn learned to compose music on the clavier sonatas of Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach. Mozart - on the symphonies of Johann Christian Bach. Both Bach-sons studied with their father Johann Sebastian. And Bach-father studied on the organ works of Buxtehude, on the clavier suites of Couperin and on violin concertos by Vivaldi, etc.)

Then there was not a "history of music" (as a single systematic retrospective of styles and eras), but a "musical tradition". The composer's attention was focused on music, mainly of the generation of teachers. Everything that by that time had gone out of use was either forgotten or considered obsolete.

The first step in creating a "musical-historical perspective" - ​​as well as a musical-historical consciousness in general! - we can consider Mendelssohn's performance of Bach's Passion according to Matthew exactly one hundred years after their creation by Bach. (And, let's add, the first - and only - their execution during his lifetime.) It happened in 1829 - that is, a year after Schubert's death.

The first signs of such a perspective were, for example, Mozart's studies of the music of Bach and Handel (in the library of Baron van Swieten) or Beethoven of the music of Palestrina. But these were the exception rather than the rule.

Musical historicism was finally established in the first German conservatories - which Schubert, again, did not live to see.

(Here, an analogy with Nabokov’s remark that Pushkin died in a duel just a few years before the first daguerreotype appeared - an invention that made it possible to document writers, artists and musicians to replace the artistic interpretations of their appearances by painters!)

At the Court Convict (choir school), where Schubert studied in the early 1810s, students were given systematic musical training, but of a much more utilitarian nature. By today's standards, convict can be compared, rather, with something like a music school.

Conservatories are already the preservation of the musical tradition. (They began to distinguish themselves by routinism soon after their appearance in the nineteenth century.) And in the time of Schubert, she was alive.

The generally accepted "doctrine of composition" did not exist at that time. Those musical forms that we were then taught in conservatories were then created “live” directly by the very same Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert.

Only later did they begin to be systematized and canonized by theoreticians (Adolf Marx, Hugo Riemann, and later Schoenberg, who created the most universal understanding of what form and composition work is among the Viennese classics).

The longest "connection of musical times" then existed only in church libraries and was not available to everyone.

(Recall the famous story with Mozart: when he was in the Vatican and heard Allegri's “Miserere” there, he was forced to write it down by ear, because it was strictly forbidden to give out the notes to outsiders.)

It is no coincidence that church music until the beginning of the nineteenth century retained the rudiments of the Baroque style - even in Beethoven! Like Schubert himself - let's take a look at the score of his Mass in E-flat major (1828, the last one he wrote).

But secular music was strongly subject to the trends of the times. Especially in the theater - at that time "the most important of the arts."

What kind of music was Schubert formed on when he attended composition lessons with Salieri? What kind of music did he hear and how did it influence him?

First of all - on Gluck's operas. Gluck was Salieri's teacher and, in his understanding, the greatest composer of all times and peoples.

The convict school orchestra, in which Schubert played along with other students, learned the works of Haydn, Mozart and many other celebrities of that time.

Beethoven was already considered the greatest contemporary composer after Haydn. (Haydn died in 1809.) His recognition was universal and unconditional. Schubert idolized him from a very young age.

Rossini was just getting started. He would become the first Opera Composer of the Epoch only a decade later, in the 1820s. The same - and Weber with his "Free shooter", in the early 1820s shocked the entire German musical world.

Schubert's very first vocal compositions were not those simple “Lieder” (“songs”) in a folk character, which, as is commonly believed, inspired his songwriting, but sedate, serious “Gesänge” (“chants”) in a high calm - a kind of operatic scenes for voice and piano, a legacy of the Age of Enlightenment that shaped Schubert as a composer.

(Just as, for example, Tyutchev wrote his first poems under the strong influence of eighteenth century odes.)

Well, the songs and dances of Schubert are the very “black bread” on which all the everyday music of the then Vienna lived.

What kind of human environment did Schubert live in? Is there anything in common with our times?

That era and that society can be compared to a large extent with our present.

The 1820s in Europe (including Vienna) - it was such another "era of stabilization", which came after a quarter of a century of revolutions and wars.

With all the clamps "from above" - ​​censorship and the like - such times are, as a rule, very favorable for creativity. Human energy is directed not to social activity, but to inner life.

In that same "reactionary" era in Vienna, music was heard everywhere - in palaces, in salons, in houses, in churches, in cafes, in theaters, in taverns, in city gardens. I didn’t listen, I didn’t play, and only the lazy didn’t compose it.

Something similar happened in our Soviet times in the 1960s and 80s, when the political regime was not free, but already relatively sane and gave people the opportunity to have their own spiritual niche.

(By the way, I really liked it when, quite recently, the artist and essayist Maxim Kantor compared the Brezhnev era with Catherine's. I think he hit the mark!)

Schubert belonged to the world of Viennese creative bohemia. From the circle of friends in which he revolved, artists, poets and actors “hatched”, who later gained fame in the German lands.

Artist Moritz von Schwind - his works hang in the Munich Pinakothek. The poet Franz von Schober - not only Schubert wrote songs on his poems, but also later Liszt. Playwrights and librettists Johann Mayrhofer, Josef Kupelwieser, Eduard von Bauernfeld - all these were famous people of their time.

But the fact that Schubert, the son of a schoolteacher, coming from a poor, but quite respectable burgher family, joined this circle, having left his parental home, should be regarded only as a demotion in the social class, doubtful at that time, not only from the material but also from a moral point of view. It is no coincidence that this provoked a long-term conflict between Schubert and his father.

In our country, during the Khrushchev “thaw” and Brezhnev’s “stagnation”, a creative environment very similar in spirit was formed. Many representatives of domestic bohemia came from quite "correct" Soviet families. These people lived, created and communicated with each other as if parallel to the official world - and in many ways even "besides" it. It was in this environment that Brodsky, Dovlatov, Vysotsky, Venedikt Erofeev, Ernst Neizvestny were formed.

Creative existence in such a circle is always inseparable from the process of communication with each other. Both our bohemian artists of the 1960s and 80s and the Viennese "kunstlers" of the 1820s led a very cheerful and free way of life - with parties, feasts, drinking, love adventures.

As you know, the circle of Schubert and his friends was under the covert surveillance of the police. In our language, there was a close interest in them "from the organs." And I suspect - not so much because of freethinking, but because of a free way of life, alien to narrow-minded morality.

The same thing happened with us in Soviet times. There is nothing new under the sun.

As in the recent Soviet past, so in the then Vienna, an enlightened public was interested in the bohemian world - and often a “status” one.

Some of its representatives - artists, poets and musicians - tried to help, "punch" them into the big world.

One of the most loyal admirers of Schubert and a passionate propagandist of his work was Johann Michael Vogl, a singer from the Court Opera, by those standards - "People's Artist of the Austrian Empire."

He did a lot to ensure that Schubert's songs began to spread throughout Viennese houses and salons - where, in fact, musical careers were made.

Schubert was “fortunate” to live almost all his life in the shadow of Beethoven, a lifetime classic. In the same city and around the same time. How did all this affect Schubert?

Beethoven and Schubert seem to me like communicating vessels. Two different worlds, two almost opposite warehouses of musical thinking. However, with all this external dissimilarity, there was some kind of invisible, almost telepathic connection between them.

Schubert created a musical world that was in many ways an alternative to Beethoven's. But he admired Beethoven: for him it was the number one musical luminary! And he has many compositions where the reflected light of Beethoven's music shines. For example - in the Fourth ("Tragic") symphony (1816).

In Schubert's later writings, these influences are subject to a much greater degree of reflection, passing through a kind of filter. In the Grand Symphony - written shortly after Beethoven's Ninth. Or in the Sonata in C minor - written after Beethoven's death and shortly before his own death. Both of these compositions are rather a kind of "our answer to Beethoven".

Compare the very end (coda) of the second movement of Schubert's Grand Symphony (starting from bar 364) with the same passage from Beethoven's Seventh (also the coda of the second movement, starting from bar 247). The same key (A minor). Same size. The same rhythmic, melodic and harmonic turns. The same as that of Beethoven, the roll call of orchestral groups (strings - brass). But this is not just a similar place: this borrowing of an idea sounds like a kind of comprehension, a retort in an imaginary dialogue that took place inside Schubert between his own "I" and Beethoven's "super-ego".

The main theme of the first movement of the Sonata in C minor is Beethoven's typically chased rhythmic-harmonic formula. But it develops from the very beginning not in Beethoven's way! Instead of a sharp fragmentation of motives, which could be expected in Beethoven, in Schubert there is an immediate departure to the side, a withdrawal into song. And in the second part of this sonata, the slow part from Beethoven's "Pathétique" obviously "spent the night". And the tonality is the same (A-flat major), and the modulation plan - up to the same piano figurations ...

Another thing is also interesting: Beethoven himself sometimes suddenly manifests such unexpected “Schubertisms” that one is only amazed.

Take, for example, his Violin Concerto - everything related to the side theme of the first movement and its major-minor recolors. Or - the songs "To a distant beloved."

Or - the 24th piano sonata, melodious through and through "in Schubert's way" - from beginning to end. It was written by Beethoven in 1809, when the twelve-year-old Schubert had just entered the convict.

Or - the second part of Beethoven's 27th sonata, hardly the most "Schubertian" in terms of mood and melody. In 1814, when it was written, Schubert had just left the convict and he still did not have a single piano sonata. Shortly thereafter, in 1817, he wrote a sonata DV 566 - in the same key of E minor, in many ways reminiscent of Beethoven's 27th. Only Beethoven turned out much more “Schubertian” than the then Schubert!

Or - a minor middle section of the third movement (scherzo) from a very early Beethoven's 4th sonata. The theme at this point is "hidden" in the disturbing figurations of triplets - as if it were one of Schubert's piano impromptu. But this sonata was written in 1797, when Schubert was just born!

Apparently, something was floating in the Viennese air that touched Beethoven only tangentially, but for Schubert, on the contrary, formed the basis of his entire musical world.

Beethoven found himself at first in a large form - in sonatas, symphonies and quartets. From the very beginning, he was driven by the desire for a large development of musical material.

Small forms flourished in his music only at the end of his life - let us recall his piano baguettes of the 1820s. They began to appear after he wrote the First Symphony.

In bagatelles, he continued the idea of ​​symphonic development, but already on a compressed time scale. It was these compositions that paved the way for the future twentieth century - Webern's short and aphoristic compositions, extremely saturated with musical events, like a drop of water - the appearance of the whole ocean.

Unlike Beethoven, Schubert's creative "base" was not large, but, on the contrary, small forms - songs or piano pieces.

His future major instrumental compositions ripened on them. This does not mean that Schubert started them later than his songs - he simply found himself in them for real after he had taken place in the song genre.

Schubert wrote his First Symphony at the age of sixteen (1813). This is a masterful composition, amazing for such a young age! There are many inspirational passages in it, anticipating his future mature works.

But the song "Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel", written a year later (after Schubert had already written more than forty songs!), Is already an indisputable, finished masterpiece, a work that is organic from the first to the last note.

With him, one might say, the history of the song as a "high" genre begins. Whereas Schubert's first symphonies still follow the borrowed canon.

Simplified, we can say that the vector of Beethoven's creative development is deduction (projection of the large onto the small), while Schubert's is induction (the projection of the small onto the large).

Schubert's sonatas-symphonies-quartets grow out of his small forms like broth from a cube.

Schubert's large forms allow us to speak of a specifically "Schubertian" sonata or symphony - quite different from Beethoven's. The song language itself, which lies at its basis, has this in mind.

For Schubert, first of all, the melodic image of the musical theme was important. For Beethoven, the main value is not the musical theme as such, but the development opportunities that it conceals in itself.

The theme may be just a formula for him, saying little as "just a melody."

Unlike Beethoven with his formulaic themes, Schubert's song themes are valuable in themselves and require much more development in time. They do not require such intensive development as Beethoven's. And the result is a completely different scale and pulse of time.

I don't want to simplify: Schubert also has enough short "formula" themes - but if they appear in him somewhere in one place, then in another they are balanced by some kind of melodically self-sufficient "antithesis".

Thus, the form expands from within him due to the greater thoroughness and roundness of its internal articulation - that is, a more developed syntax.

For all the intensity of the processes taking place in them, Schubert's large works are characterized by a calmer inner pulsation.

The pace in his later works often "slows down" - in comparison with the same Mozart or Beethoven. Where Beethoven's designations of tempo are "mobile" (Allegro) or "very mobile" (Allegro molto), Schubert has "mobile, but not too much" (Allegro ma non troppo), "moderately mobile" (Allegro moderato), “moderately” (Moderato) and even “very moderately and melodiously” (Molto moderato e cantabile).

The last example is the first movements of two of his late sonatas (G major 1826 and B flat major 1828), each of which runs about 45-50 minutes. This is the usual timing of Schubert's works of the last period.

Such an epic pulsation of musical time subsequently influenced Schumann, Bruckner, and Russian authors.

Beethoven, by the way, also has several works in large form, melodious and rounded more “in Schubert's” than “in Beethoven's”. (It -

and the already mentioned 24th and 27th sonatas, and the "Archduke" trio of 1811.)

All this is music written by Beethoven in those years when he began to devote a lot of time to composing songs. Apparently, he deliberately paid tribute to the music of a new, song style.

But with Beethoven, these are just a few compositions of this kind, and with Schubert, the nature of his compositional thinking.

The well-known words of Schumann about the "divine lengths" of Schubert were said, of course, from the best of intentions. But they still testify to some "misunderstanding" - which can be quite compatible even with the most sincere admiration!

Schubert has not "length", but a different scale of time: the form retains all its internal proportions and proportions.

And when performing his music, it is very important that these proportions of time are kept exactly!

That is why I cannot stand it when performers ignore the signs of repetition in Schubert's works - especially in his sonatas and symphonies, where in the extreme, most eventful parts, it is simply necessary to follow the author's instructions and repeat the entire initial section ("exposition") so as not to violate the proportions whole!

The very idea of ​​such a repetition lies in the very important principle of "experiencing again." After that, all further development (development, reprise and code) should be perceived already as a kind of “third attempt”, leading us along a new path.

Moreover, Schubert himself often writes out the first version of the end of the exposition (“the first volt”) for the transition-return to its beginning-repetition and the second version (“the second volt”) - already for the transition to development.

Schubert's very "first volts" may contain pieces of music that are important in meaning. (Like, for example, nine measures - 117a-126a - in his Sonata in B flat major. They contain so many important events and such an abyss of expressiveness!)

Ignoring them is like cutting off and throwing away large chunks of matter. It amazes me how deaf the performers are! Performances of this music “without repetitions” always give me a feeling of schoolboy playing “in fragments”.

Schubert's biography brings tears: such a genius deserves a life path more worthy of his giftedness. Bohemianism and poverty, typological for romantics, as well as diseases (syphilis and all that), which became the causes of death, are especially saddening. In your opinion, are all these typical attributes of romantic life-building, or, on the contrary, did Schubert stand at the base of the biographical canon?

In the 19th century, Schubert's biography was heavily mythologized. The fictionalization of biographies is generally a product of the romantic century.

Let's start straight from one of the most popular stereotypes: "Schubert died of syphilis."

The truth here is only that Schubert really suffered from this bad disease. And not one year. Unfortunately, the infection, not being immediately treated properly, now and then reminded of itself in the form of relapses, which drove Schubert to despair. Two hundred years ago, the diagnosis of syphilis was the sword of Damocles, heralding the gradual destruction of the human personality.

It was a disease, let's say, not alien to single men. And the first thing she threatened was publicity and public disgrace. After all, Schubert was “guilty” only because from time to time he gave vent to his young hormones - and did it in the only legal way in those days: through connections with public women. Communication with a "decent" woman outside of marriage was considered criminal.

He contracted a bad disease along with Franz von Schober, his friend and companion, with whom they lived for some time in the same apartment. But both managed to recover from it - just about a year before Schubert's death.

(Schobert, unlike the latter, lived thereafter until he was eighty years old.)

Schubert did not die of syphilis, but for another reason. In November 1828 he contracted typhoid fever. It was a disease of urban suburbs with their low sanitary level of life. Simply put, it is a disease of insufficiently well-washed chamber pots. By that time, Schubert had already got rid of the previous illness, but his body was weakened and typhus carried him to the grave in just a week or two.

(This question has been studied quite well. I refer everyone who is interested to the book by Anton Neumayr called "Music and Medicine: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert", which was published in Russian not so long ago. The history of the issue is set out in it with with all thoroughness and conscientiousness, and most importantly, it is provided with references to doctors who at various times treated Schubert and his illnesses.)

The whole tragic absurdity of this early death was that it overtook Schubert just when life began to turn to him with its much more pleasant side.

The cursed disease is finally gone. Improved relationship with his father. The first author's concert of Schubert took place. But, alas, he did not have long to enjoy success.

In addition to diseases, there are enough other myths-half-truths around the biography of Schubert.

It is believed that during his lifetime he was not recognized at all, that he was little performed, little published. All of this is only half true. The point here is not so much in recognition from the outside, but in the very nature of the composer and in the way of his creative life.

Schubert was by nature not a man of career. It was enough for him that pleasure that he received from the very process of creation and from constant creative communication with a circle of like-minded people, which consisted of the then Viennese creative youth.

It was dominated by the cult of camaraderie, brotherhood and unconstrained fun, typical of that era. In German it is called "Geselligkeit". (In Russian - something like "companionship".) "Making art" was both the goal of this circle and the daily way of its existence. Such was the spirit of the early nineteenth century.

Most of the music that Schubert created was designed for walking in just that same semi-domestic environment. And only then, under favorable circumstances, she began to go out of it into the wide world.

From the standpoint of our pragmatic time, such an attitude to one's work can be considered frivolous, naive - and even infantile. Childishness was always present in the character of Schubert - the one about which Jesus Christ said "be like children." Without her, Schubert simply would not be himself.

Schubert's natural shyness is a kind of social phobia, when a person feels uncomfortable in a large unfamiliar audience and therefore is in no hurry to get in touch with it.

Of course, it is difficult to judge which is the cause and which is the effect. For Schubert, of course, it was also a mechanism of psychological self-defense - a kind of refuge from worldly failures.

He was a very vulnerable person. The vicissitudes of fate and the inflicted grievances corroded him from the inside - and this manifested itself in his music, with all its contrasts and sharp mood swings.

When Schubert, overcoming shyness, sent Goethe songs to his poems - "The Forest King" and "Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel", - he did not show any interest in them and did not even answer the letter. But the songs of Schubert are the best of what has ever been written to the words of Goethe!

And yet, to say that allegedly no one was interested in Schubert, that he was not played or published anywhere, is an excessive exaggeration, a stable romantic myth.

I will continue the analogy with Soviet times. Just as in our country many nonconformist authors found ways to make money with their creativity - they gave lessons, decorated houses of culture, composed screenplays, children's books, music for cartoons - Schubert also built bridges with the powerful of this world: with publishers, with concert societies, and even with theaters.

During Schubert's lifetime, publishers printed about a hundred of his works. (The opus numbers were assigned to them in the order of publication, so they have nothing to do with the time of their creation.) Three of his operas were staged during his lifetime - one of them even at the Vienna Court Opera. (How many composers can you find now, for whom the Bolshoi Theater staged at least one?)

A scandalous story happened to one of Schubert's operas - "Fierrabras". The Vienna Court Opera then wished, as they would now put it, "to support the domestic producer" and ordered romantic operas on historical subjects from two German composers - Weber and Schubert.

The first was by that time already a national idol, who had won unprecedented success with his "Free Shooter". And Schubert was considered, rather, an author, "widely known in narrow circles."

By order of the Vienna Opera, Weber wrote "Eurianta", and Schubert - "Fierrabras": both works are based on plots from knightly times.

However, the public wanted to listen to the operas of Rossini - at that time already a world celebrity. None of his contemporaries could compete with him. He was, you might say, the Woody Allen, the Steven Spielberg of the opera at the time.

Rossini came to Vienna and eclipsed everyone. Weber's "Euryant" failed. The theater decided to "minimize the risks" and generally abandoned the production of Schubert. And they did not pay him a fee for the work already done.

Just imagine: to compose music for more than two hours, to completely rewrite the entire score! And such a "bummer".

Any person would have had a severe nervous breakdown. And Schubert looked at these things somehow simpler. Some kind of autism was in him, or something, which helped to “ground” such crashes.

And, of course, - friends, beer, sincere company of a small brotherhood of friends, in which he felt so comfortable and calm ...

In general, it is necessary to talk not so much about Schubert's "romantic life-building" as about that "seismograph of feelings" and moods, which was creativity for him.

Knowing in what year Schubert contracted his unpleasant illness (this happened at the end of 1822, when he was twenty-five years old - shortly after he wrote "Unfinished" and "The Wanderer" - but he learned about it only at the beginning of the next years), we can even follow Deutsch's catalog at what exact moment a turning point occurs in his music: the mood of a tragic breakdown appears.

It seems to me that this watershed should be called his Piano Sonata in A minor (DV784), written in February 1823. She appears to him as if completely unexpectedly, immediately after a whole series of dances for the piano - like a blow to the head after a stormy feast.

I find it difficult to name another work by Schubert, where there would be so much despair and devastation, as in this sonata. Never before had these feelings been so heavy, fatal in nature.

The next two years (1824-25) pass in his music under the sign of the epic theme - then, in fact, he comes to his "long" sonatas and symphonies. For the first time they sound the mood of overcoming, some new masculinity. His most famous composition of that time is the Grand Symphony in C major.

At the same time, the passion for historical and romantic literature begins - songs appear on the words of Walter Scott from The Maiden of the Lake (in German translations). Among them are Ellen's Three Songs, one of which (the last one) is the well-known “AveMaria”. For some reason, her first two songs are much less frequently performed - “Sleep the soldier, the end of the war” and “Sleep the hunter, it's time to sleep.” I just love them.

(By the way, about romantic adventures: the last book that Schubert asked his friends to read before his death, when he was already sick, was a novel by Fenimore Cooper. All of Europe then read it. Pushkin put him even higher than Scott.)

Then, already in 1826, Schubert creates, probably, his most intimate lyrics. I mean, first of all, his songs - especially my favorite ones to the words of Seidl ("Lullaby", "Wanderer to the Moon", "Funeral Bell", "At the Window", "Language", "In the Wild"), as well as other poets (“Morning Serenade” and “Sylvia” to the words of Shakespeare in German translations, “From Wilhelm Meister” to the words of Goethe, “At Midnight” and “To My Heart” to the words of Ernst Schulze).

1827 - in the music of Schubert, this is the highest point of tragedy when he creates his "Winter Way". And this is also the year of his piano trios. There is probably no other composition in which such a powerful dualism between heroism and hopeless pessimism manifests itself, as in his Trio in E flat major.

The last year of his life (1828) is the time of the most incredible breakthroughs in Schubert's music. This is the year of his last sonatas, impromptu and musical moments, the Fantasia in F minor and the Grand Rondo in A major for four hands, the String Quintet, his most intimate spiritual compositions (the last Mass, the Offertory and the Tantumergo), songs to the words of Relshtab and Heine. All this year he worked on sketches for a new symphony, which, as a result, remained in outline.

About this time, the words of the epitaph of Franz Grillparzer on the grave of Schubert speak best of all:

"Death has buried a rich treasure here, but even more beautiful hopes ..."

Ending to be

Schubert and Beethoven. Schubert - the first Viennese romantic

Schubert was a younger contemporary of Beethoven. For about fifteen years, both of them lived in Vienna, creating at the same time their most significant works. Schubert's "Marguerite at the Spinning Wheel" and "The Tsar of the Forest" are "the same age" as Beethoven's Seventh and Eighth Symphonies. Simultaneously with the Ninth Symphony and Beethoven's Solemn Mass, Schubert composed the Unfinished Symphony and the song cycle The Beautiful Miller's Girl.

But this comparison alone allows us to notice that we are talking about works of different musical styles. Unlike Beethoven, Schubert came to the fore as an artist not during the years of revolutionary uprisings, but at that critical time when the era of social and political reaction came to replace him. Schubert contrasted the grandiosity and power of Beethoven's music, its revolutionary pathos and philosophical depth with lyrical miniatures, pictures of democratic life - homely, intimate, in many ways reminiscent of a recorded improvisation or a page of a poetic diary. Beethoven's and Schubert's works coinciding in time differ from each other in the same way as the advanced ideological trends of two different eras should have differed - the era of the French Revolution and the period of the Congress of Vienna. Beethoven completed the century-old development of musical classicism. Schubert was the first Viennese Romantic composer.

Schubert's art is partly related to Weber's. The romanticism of both artists has common origins. Weber's "Magic Shooter" and Schubert's songs were equally the product of the democratic upsurge that swept Germany and Austria during the national liberation wars. Schubert, like Weber, reflected the most characteristic forms of artistic thinking of his people. Moreover, he was the brightest representative of the Viennese folk-national culture of this period. His music is as much a child of democratic Vienna as the waltzes of Lanner and Strauss-father performed in cafes, as folk fairy-tale plays and comedies by Ferdinand Raimund, as folk festivals in the Prater park. Schubert's art not only sang the poetry of folk life, it often originated directly there. And it was in folk genres that the genius of the Viennese romanticism manifested itself first of all.

At the same time, Schubert spent the entire time of his creative maturity in Metternich's Vienna. And this circumstance to a large extent determined the nature of his art.

In Austria, the national-patriotic upsurge never had such an effective expression as in Germany or Italy, and the reaction that took hold throughout Europe after the Congress of Vienna assumed a particularly gloomy character there. The atmosphere of mental slavery and the "condensed haze of prejudice" were opposed by the best minds of our time. But under conditions of despotism, open social activity was unthinkable. The energy of the people was fettered and did not find worthy forms of expression.

Schubert could oppose cruel reality only with the richness of the inner world of the “little man”. In his work there is neither "The Magic Shooter", nor "William Tell", nor "Pebbles" - that is, works that went down in history as direct participants in the social and patriotic struggle. In the years when Ivan Susanin was born in Russia, a romantic note of loneliness sounded in Schubert's work.

Nevertheless, Schubert acts as a continuer of Beethoven's democratic traditions in a new historical setting. Having revealed in music the richness of heartfelt feelings in all the variety of poetic shades, Schubert responded to the ideological requests of the progressive people of his generation. As a lyricist, he achieved the ideological depth and artistic power worthy of Beethoven's art. Schubert begins the lyric-romantic era in music.

"New Acropolis" in Moscow

The date: 22.03.2009
Today the topic of the Musical Lounge was dedicated to three great musicians. Music was not just a profession for them, it was the meaning of life for them, it was their happiness ... Today we listened not only to their works performed by the wonderful Anima trio, but also got acquainted with their amazing fate filled with music, overcoming obstacles that fate presented them with the realization of Great dreams that lived in each of them ... Three great geniuses - so different from each other, but united by the fact that all these great people know how to be reborn.

Fragments from the evening.

Meeting of the young Beethoven and Mozart.
Young Beethoven dreamed of meeting the great Mozart, whose works he knew and idolized. At the age of sixteen, his dream comes true. With bated breath, he plays the great maestro. But Mozart is distrustful of the unknown young man, believing that he is performing a well-learned piece. Sensing Mozart's mood, Ludwig dared to ask for a theme for free fantasy. Mozart played the melody, and the young musician began to develop it with extraordinary enthusiasm. Mozart was amazed. He exclaimed, pointing to Ludwig to his friends: “Pay attention to this young man, he will make the whole world talk about himself!” Beethoven left inspired, full of joyful hopes and aspirations.

Meeting of Schubert and Beethoven.
Living in the same city - Vienna - Schubert and Beethoven did not know each other. Because of his deafness, the venerable composer led a secluded life, it was difficult to communicate with him. Schubert, on the other hand, was extremely shy and did not dare to introduce himself to the great composer, whom he idolized. Only shortly before Beethoven's death, it happened that his faithful friend and secretary Schindler showed the composer several dozen Schubert songs. The mighty power of the young composer's lyrical talent impressed Beethoven deeply. Joyfully excited, he exclaimed: “Truly, in this Schubert lives the spark of God!”

The Austrian composer Franz Schubert lived a short but full of creative life. Already at the age of eleven, he began to sing in the Viennese court chapel, and later became a student of Salieri himself. There were many interesting, significant moments in his creative path. Here are some of them:

1. Schubert wrote over a thousand works. Connoisseurs of classical music know him not only because of the legendary "Serenade". He is the author of numerous operas, marches, sonatas and orchestral overtures. And all this - only for 31 years of life.
2. During Schubert's lifetime, only one concert of his compositions took place. It was in 1828 in Vienna. The concert was not announced anywhere, very few people came to listen to the composer. All because at the same time the violinist Paganini performed in this city. He got both listeners and an impressive fee.
3. And Schubert received an extremely modest fee for that very concert. However, with this money I was able to buy a piano.
4. Schubert developed a very warm relationship with Beethoven. When the latter died, Schubert was one of those who carried his coffin at the funeral.
5. Schubert really wanted to be buried next to Beethoven after his death. But, as now, several centuries ago everything was decided by money, and Schubert did not have them. However, after some time, the burial was moved, and now the two composers lie side by side.
6. From a young age, Franz was very fond of Goethe's work, sincerely admired him. And more than once he tried to personally meet his idol, but, alas, it did not work out. Schubert sent the poet a whole notebook with songs based on his (Goethe's) poems. Each of the songs was a complete drama. However, there was no response from Goethe.
7. Schubert's sixth symphony was ridiculed in the London Philharmonic and completely refused to play it. For three decades the work did not sound.
8. One of Schubert's most famous works, the Grand Symphony in C major, was released years after the author's death. The composition was found by chance in the papers of the brother of the deceased. It was first performed in 1839.
9. Schubert's entourage was not aware that all genres were subject to him. His friends and other people around him were sure that he wrote only songs. He was even called the "King of Song".
10. Real magic once happened to the young Schubert (at least, that's how he told people from his circle about it). Walking down the street, he met a woman in an old dress and with a high hairdo. She invited him to choose his fate - either to work as a teacher, to be unknown to anyone, but at the same time live a long life; or become an internationally revered musician but die young. Franz chose the second option. And the next day he left school to devote himself to music.