Conversations within and between two early lieder of Schubert

James William Sobaskie

doi:10.1017/S1479409815000531

Conversations within and between two early lieder of Schubert

Published online by Cambridge University Press: 28 March 2016

James William Sobaskie

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James William Sobaskie*: Affiliation:
Mississippi State University Email: jsobaskie@colled.msstate.edu

Article contents

Abstract
Introduction
‘Schubert Revising Schubert’ … or Perhaps Something Else?
The appeal of ‘An die Geliebte’
‘An die Geliebte’ Unpacked
The Resignation of ‘An die Nachtigall’
‘An die Nachtigall’ Deconstructed
Bookends
Footnotes

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Abstract

Biographical background and musical analysis reveal a remarkable relationship between Franz Schubert’s early lieder ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’. In ‘An die Geliebte’, tonal ambiguity underscores the indeterminate nature of its narrative, permitting multiple coexistent and contrasting expressive meanings while favouring an ironic interpretation and an intriguing subtext. In ‘An die Nachtigall’, whose introduction and first phrase are similar to the opening of ‘An die Geliebte’, multiple expressive meanings also may be discerned, including an ironic interpretation that emerges when the song is considered in the context of its predecessor. Proceeding from a prior discussion of these lieder by Susan Youens, this essay will reveal unsuspected layers of meaning and a contextual process that unfolds in these unassuming yet engaging songs of Schubert, which uniquely converse with one another and frame an important episode in the composer’s life.

Information

Type: Research Article
Information: Nineteenth-Century Music Review , Volume 13 , Issue 1 , June 2016, pp. 83 - 102
DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/S1479409815000531 [Opens in a new window]
Copyright: © Cambridge University Press 2016

Introduction

Franz Schubert’s ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ invite speculation. As Examples 1 and 2 show, these lieder appear to begin similarly in C major, but soon move toward G. One might assume that Schubert decided the first song was inferior and salvaged its start in the second. Or, since neither is widely known, it may be supposed that they reveal little about the composer or his music.Footnote ¹ And because both seem slight, each might be dismissed as inconsequential.Footnote ² But such presumptions limit what the two can tell.

Ex. 1

Schubert: ‘An die Geliebte’ (‘To the beloved’; 1815; D. 303), bars 1–8

Ex. 2

Schubert: ‘An die Nachtigall’ (‘To the nightingale’; 1816; D. 497), bars 1–21

‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ speak volumes if considered from the standpoint of conversation. For instance, each song conveys a single character’s interiority, as well as that character’s utterances to an unspeaking other, whose presence is crucial to the drama. However, when the lieder are placed in the context of Schubert’s life, each reveals inconspicuous implications within the character’s thoughts and statements. Indeed, within that context, each may be understood to articulate a personal expressive need of the composer at the particular time it was composed. Finally, their shared substance signals intertextuality, so each song surely informs the other. Thus, the metaphor of conversation affords an advantageous approach, as well as an analytical attitude. To begin, let us enter an ongoing discussion of these intriguing lieder.

‘Schubert Revising Schubert’ … or Perhaps Something Else?

Susan Youens has proposed that ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ portray ‘Schubert revising Schubert’ and that they provide evidence of a critical attitude toward his compositions that compelled him to rework his music in myriad ways.Footnote ³ Among many types of revision that may be observed in the composer’s music, which include transposition, superficial alteration, major overhaul and reset texts, she suggests that these lieder show how Schubert ‘used music composed earlier to one poem as the basis for a setting of another poem by a different poet’.Footnote ⁴ Observing that they present male and female perspectives, respectively, Youens finds greater psychological depth in the later lied, ‘An die Nachtigall’, and submits that Schubert’s setting not only expands the signification of the poet’s text, but also exploits his music from ‘An die Geliebte’ more effectively.Footnote ⁵

While her interpretation of ‘An die Nachtigall’ is persuasive, it may be that ‘An die Geliebte’ represents more than a source of repurposed material.Footnote ⁶ Considered on its own merits, the earlier song actually seems successful as is, even innovative. And instead of revision, another creative impulse may offer a satisfactory account for the reappearance of its opening material in the later song. If so, our understanding of ‘An die Nachtigall’ might evolve significantly. Let us examine its predecessor.

The appeal of ‘An die Geliebte’

The text of ‘An die Geliebte’ is by Josef Ludwig Stoll (1778–1815), and it appears below with my translation.Footnote ⁷

A dramatic monologue, ‘An die Geliebte’ offers a captivating mix of emotions and implications in just eight lines. On the surface, its words speak of consolation and sympathy, eliciting curiosity regarding the source of the strong emotion to which the singer appears to respond. Is the unspeaking ‘other’ joyful or fearful? Why would her tears linger on her cheek? What brought them forth? We never learn for sure, but are moved to imagine possibilities, which surely must have been Schubert’s intention.

With so much ambiguity and possibility on the surface of ‘An die Geliebte’, it is easy to imagine that other levels of meaning may be perceived within. Susan Youens holds that it is ‘tenderly erotic, the lover drinking his beloved’s tears in a symbolic evocation of lovemaking’, and that it concludes ‘with the ecstatic-melancholy recognition that the lover assumes the beloved’s sorrows as well as the rapture of love’.Footnote ⁸ Indeed, ‘An die Geliebte’ most certainly represents an earnest entreaty to one whose ‘quiet eyes, in their loving look’ have shed tears of desire denied until that moment. This more intimate interpretation seems convincing, since it demands a listener’s imaginative contribution to the lied’s experience. And in the conservative Biedermeier era when it was composed, such personal sentiments could never have been expressed publically, so the song’s symbolism could have served to convey what could not be said aloud.

But there is something Youens did not mention in her discussion, a fact subsequently made widely known by John Reed in his own appraisal of these pieces: Schubert set ‘An die Geliebte’ on 15 October 1815 – Therese Grob’s name day.Footnote ⁹ Therese has come to be recognized as one of Schubert’s great loves, as well as a muse and an early interpreter, so this connection could be a coincidence, or it could represent something more.Footnote ¹⁰ Otto Erich Deutsch believed that Schubert’s affection for the young woman arose early in 1815, if not before, so it would seem at least possible that she may have inspired his remarkable creativity on that particular day.Footnote ¹¹ We do not know if Therese ever heard ‘An die Geliebte’, but its poetic content and evocative setting certainly make me hope that she did.Footnote ¹²

Much about Schubert’s relationship with Therese (1798–1875) comes to us second-hand, interpreted through the lenses of others.Footnote ¹³ We know, for instance, that she sang at the première of Schubert’s Mass in F in 1814 at the Lichtental Church, that their families were close, and that a wedding may have been discussed, though the 18-year-old Schubert’s teaching job could not support them both.Footnote ¹⁴ And while an 1815 Viennese marriage law required that a prospective groom supply proof of sufficient income, the familial and spiritual values of the Grobs and Schuberts may have played roles in delaying their union as well.Footnote ¹⁵

In this context, ‘An die Geliebte’ may be more than the source of material for the later lied ‘An die Nachtigall’.Footnote ¹⁶ Surely the undercurrent of eroticism identified by Susan Youens in ‘An die Geliebte’ represents a second level of meaning borne by the poet’s verse, a stream of expressive intentions beyond that which may be gained from a superficial interpretation of Stoll’s words. Perhaps a third level of meaning exists within the song as well – a concealed message incorporated by Schubert, consciously or unconsciously, that communicated his passion and urged her patience.Footnote ¹⁷ Schubert’s setting is extremely engaging, so let us examine evidence for such a personal subtext.Footnote ¹⁸

‘An die Geliebte’ Unpacked

As Example 1 shows, ‘An die Geliebte’ begins without an introduction, enabling the singer to assert his presence at once. Its tonal structure immediately intrigues, implying uncertainty as well as pursuit. The tonality of C major seems suggested until the middle of bar 3, when the tonal focus shifts temporarily to A minor. However, both impressions are dispelled by the embellished dominant seventh sonority in bar 6.Footnote ¹⁹ The half cadence in bar 8 suggests G major but does not establish it, eliciting expectation of a more convincing assertion of the tonic. Preceded by a neumatic setting of the words ‘liebvollen Schein’ in the first verse, and ‘heiss der Treue weihn’ in the second, this half cadence adds fullness to the image of a tender glance and sincerity to the notion of constancy, yet looks ahead all the same.

Example 3 reveals that the next three textual phrases of ‘An die Geliebte’ end on non-tonic harmonies – the dominant (b. 12), subdominant (b. 16), and supertonic (b. 20).

Ex. 3

Schubert: ‘An die Geliebte’, bars 9–27

These pauses – which do not represent true harmonic cadences – permit the intensified repetition of the last two lines of each strophe, which, in turn, vivifies the notions of touch and reception, all while forestalling a convincing assertion of G major. As Example 3 shows, confirmation of tonic finally occurs in bar 24 of ‘An die Geliebte’, coinciding with the very last word of each verse, though the cadence is by no means emphatic. Indeed, tonal focus fades immediately, for the interlude features an F♮ in bar 25 that is contradictive of G and implicative of C. Providing a plagal effect evocative of prayer, this passage weakens the just-established tonal orientation and leads to the start of second verse, where C again initially holds sway.Footnote ²⁰ Tonal vacillation, sustained through the second strophe and present at song’s close by the interlude-turned-postlude, brings impressions of yearning and anxiety.Footnote ²¹ Far from flawed, this sensitive setting conveys quiet desire and elicits warm sympathy in return. Underscoring and authenticating a tender plea, ‘An die Geliebte’ may be interpreted as a subtle message from Schubert to Therese asking her to hold hope. Given the tonal conventions for lieder in the second decade of the nineteenth century, ‘An die Geliebte’ must have been unsettling to its listeners, yet also quite riveting.Footnote ²²

Example 4 offers a detailed view of ‘An die Geliebte’s voice-leading.

Ex. 4

‘An die Geliebte’: detailed voice leading sketch

A bass line composed of often widely separated pitches sounding in the lowest register of the piano, plus implied tones suggested by the counterpoint above, forms the foundation of an intriguing aural fabric that engages its listeners, guides attention forward, and finally reaches the tonic only near the end. Represented by parenthesized notes and noteheads, its implied tones do not actually sound within the music, but help to account for the song’s ephemeral tonal tissue when the structural bass is absent and the piano’s higher tenor-level strand is the actual lowest sounding voice. The lied’s primary tone, $$\hat 5$$ , finally is asserted in bar 14 – halfway through its span – prior to the relatively quick descent of the fundamental line in bars 22–24; but its presence, too, is more sensed than heard. Closure is weakened in the final bars, especially by the lowered leading tone in bar 25, undermining what had been such a long-anticipated achievement. Through this allusively unfolding tonal structure, Schubert underscores the mixture of sincerity and doubt within his chosen text.

In the comprehensive view offered in Example 5, it may be more easily seen that the extended spans dominated by composed-out root-position C major harmonies effectively prolong and defer to an inverted G major triad – an inherently unstable harmony – which, in turn, leads to the dominant and ultimately to the root position tonic triad in bar 24.

Ex. 5

‘An die Geliebte’: comprehensive voice leading sketch

‘An die Geliebte’ represents what I call a precursive prolongation – a greatly expanded harmonic prefix.Footnote ²³ Here this anticipatory structure animates a story whose outcome holds some uncertainty, for, once its tonal objective is achieved, that long-sought success is undercut by the closing bars, where the tonic harmony is undermined ever so slightly by the brief swing toward the subdominant, achieved with the aid of the lowered leading tone, F♮.Footnote ²⁴ Given how much attention C received at the start of the lied, its echo here weakens the work’s impression of closure.

Aspiration and apprehension also may be perceived nearer the musical surface within the voice’s thrice-heard melodic gesture of bars 13–24. Example 6 illustrates.

Ex. 6

‘An die Geliebte’: melodic gestures in bars 13–24

Composed of an ascending stepwise fourth-span followed by a descending fifth, each gesture embodies an advance and a retreat – ‘four steps up, five steps down’. In the first of these, the stepwise descent from dominant to tonic is harmonized by the submediant and subdominant, leading away from the expected tonic harmony. The second instance reaches higher than the first, harmonized by the subdominant of G and supertonic, yet it too concludes away from tonic. In both, the final non-tonic harmony colours the end of the phrase with uncertainty. Only with the final instance within bars 21–24, does a perfect authentic cadence impart a measure of satisfaction. Comparison with Schubert’s music in Example 3 reveals increasing surface embellishment, first the grace note of bar 20, then the neighbour tones within the triplets of bars 22–23, which seem nonchalantly improvised, but betray insecurity. Nevertheless, the lower-register ascending fourth-spans echoing in the piano interlude may suggest that hope remains.

Smaller elements in ‘An die Geliebte’ also elicit expectation. As Example 1 illustrates, the inner-voice suspensions of bars 2, 4, 5 and 6 feature embellished resolutions whose brief delays convey hesitancy, underscoring the subjunctive mood of the first line. The minor seventh spanned by the first vocal phrase, which declines from G5 to A4 in bars 1–8, conserves instability through the half cadence in bar 8. And as Example 3 shows, the end of the next phrase features a direct and dramatic descent of a minor seventh, its lower tone sustained by the fermata in bar 12. Supported by the thick, accented and dissonant dominant-seventh chord, this leap emphasizes the suggestive words sauge (‘suck’) and empfange (‘receive’) and may convey youthful impetuosity. Resolutions of these projected melodic sevenths are implied within the voice leading, but are not fully satisfying. The same is true of the inverted dominant seventh harmony in bar 12 of Example 3, whose dissonant, low C2 is transferred to C4, then C5, and only indirectly resolved in an inner voice in bar 14. With all of these elements, Schubert elicits anticipation, but leaves lingering expectation.

Descending and ascending minor second intervals also attract attention in ‘An die Geliebte’. For instance, the piano’s dotted quarter F♮5 in bar 2 of Example 1 implies its semitonal resolution downward to E5 on the following downbeat, thus establishing a motivic pattern.Footnote ²⁵ In bars 4–5, the inner-voice pitches G♯4–A4, an upward-resolving suspension, inverts the motivic interval, producing an ascending semitone. Later, the ascending semitones in the piano part of bars 9–10 (D4–D♯4 and G4–G♯4) and 14–16 (D♯4–E4 and D♯4–E4) reinforce its memory, as Example 3 illustrates. Yet at the end of the song, the descent of F♮4 to E4 in the pianist’s right hand reverses the semitonal impulse. Tiny details, to be sure, but in the mostly diatonic context of ‘An die Geliebte’, these chromatic semitones stand out, adding ardent nuances.

While the images and ideas of Schubert’s ‘An die Geliebte’ are touching, its honesty and vulnerability seem convincing. In light of its context, ‘An die Geliebte’ may have communicated what its composer could not say.Footnote ²⁶ Perhaps this is why it has survived, despite a later song that bears some of its substance. It is, in the words of Graham Johnson, ‘a perfect page’.Footnote ²⁷ The same may be said of ‘An die Nachtigall’, composed a little over a year later. If ‘An die Geliebte’ bears multiple, co-existent and even ironic meanings, then perhaps its sequel does too.

The Resignation of ‘An die Nachtigall’

As Examples 1 and 2 show, music derived from the opening of ‘An die Geliebte’ initiates ‘An die Nachtigall’.Footnote ²⁸ Concluding with a perfect authentic cadence in bars 7–8, the opening passage of ‘An die Nachtigall’ confirms G major by introduction’s end, thus departing from its predecessor. Sketching a quiet scene, at once spacious and intimate, the opening passage could be understood, all by itself, to portray the undulating descent of a nightingale. Repetition of its material in bars 9–14 surely reinforces that image as the text unfolds. Yet it also would appear to confirm that if Schubert considered ‘An die Geliebte’ a successful song, his decisive self-borrowing here signals intentional linkage. If so, perhaps even more ties bind these lieder.

‘An die Nachtigall’s text is by Matthias Claudius (1740–1815), and it appears below with my translation.Footnote ²⁹

At first, Schubert’s setting may seem to suggest a mother’s lullaby. But its serenity soon gives way to exhilaration, fuelled by a flight of imagination. The final third of the song turns bleak, presenting a plea for silence. As with ‘An die Geliebte’, questions arise. Who is sleeping next to the singer’s heart? What is the source of her joy? Why would she implore the nightingale – whose song may be the most beautiful in nature – to let her love sleep? More lies below the surface of these six lines, though just what is not perfectly clear.Footnote ³⁰ There is an arc of excitement within ‘An die Nachtigall’, yet it ends unexpectedly, even abruptly, on a note of resignation. Like ‘An die Geliebte’, this lied surely holds more for the imaginative listener.

Susan Youens proposes that ‘An die Nachtigall’ presents

a charming depiction of female experience, in which the woman takes delight in her return to herself, to a regained individuality, after love-making. Her love for the sleeping man by her side is not questioned – he is Amor or Love itself – but she has her own guardian spirit and her own capacity for delight apart from eroticism. ‘To the Nightingale’ is a plea for Nature’s foremost symbol of love to be silent.Footnote ³¹

‘An die Nachtigall’ appears richly endowed with significance, and this scenario seems entirely plausible. Associated with love, the nightingale also is a symbol of tragedy and of transformation, so perhaps its implications inspired Schubert.Footnote ³² What other intentions might be interpreted here?

‘An die Nachtigall’ Deconstructed

Earlier in this essay, Example 2 presented the first half of ‘An die Nachtigall’; Example 7 offers the rest of the song.

Ex. 7

Schubert: ‘An die Nachtigall’, bars 22–41

Susan Youens observes that the chromaticism in bar 5 contributes to a ‘languid erotic aura’ and that the succeeding bars ‘emphasize the poetic persona’s gratitude to her guardian angel, who has sung the beloved to sleep’.Footnote ³³ Noting that the ‘jauntiness of the dotted rhythmic patterns … and quickened prosodic pace [of bars 22–29] will make any listener smile’, she points out that the ‘vocal line stays poised on and around the dominant pitch (D) throughout mm. 24–34, not descending to the tonic pitch until the last syllable’, to portray ‘a poetic persona determined not to succumb to the erotic languor that has carried off her love’.Footnote ³⁴ Schubert’s tonal fabric contributes to all of this in a variety of ways.

For instance, from bars 14 to 34, the piano’s harmonies change constantly, as the summarizing sketch in Example 8 suggests.

Ex. 8

Schubert: ‘An die Nachtigall’, harmonic rhythm in bars 14–34

Focusing first on the tonic, then on the subdominant in bars 22–25, the accompaniment soon returns to tonic, which mutates to minor. While the text traverses several moods, and the rhythm of the vocal melody waxes and wanes, this extended embellishment of and emphasis on the tonic harmony within this span creates an underlying and welling tension all its own that culminates quickly in the closing bars that follow, drawing upon the power of aroused anticipation for change.

Example 9 offers a broader and more detailed view of Schubert’s lied.

Ex. 9

Schubert: ‘An die Nachtigall’, detailed voice-leading sketch

The tonic harmony of G major is established by the piano introduction, brought about by the octave descent from G5 to G4 in the uppermost voice and confirmed by the perfect authentic cadence in bar 8. The primary tone, 5, finally appears in bar 15, and is locally reinforced by a preliminary melodic descent that concludes in bar 21. Once established, the primary tone, $$\hat 5$$ , is retained and sustained via repetition and embellishment throughout the lied. No structural descent – no fundamental line – proceeds from $$\hat 5$$ , as scale degree $$\hat 3$$ (B♮4) is distinctly avoided three times in bars 36–41. Despite the dramatic climax and structural cadence in bars 34–37, both the voice and the echoing piano postlude seem to project unrealised potential. Like its predecessor, ‘An die Nachtigall’ finishes wanting, albeit via different means. But the two songs have even more in common.

Within ‘An die Geliebte’, certain motivic features emerge early, and their repetitions elicit expectation and underscore uncertainty. These included prominent ascending and descending melodic semitones, plus the interval of the minor seventh. The same elements reappear in ‘An die Nachtigall’, but here they will assume an additional, culminative purpose. Let us begin by examining contextually significant instances of semitonal motion.

In Example 2, for instance, the descending inner voice semitones in bars 5 and 6, E4–E♭4–D4, which are repeated later in bars 13–14, recall the ascending semitones D4–D♯4–E4 in bars 9 and 10 of ‘An die Geliebte’ (see Ex. 3). The sequence D♯4–E4, heard within bars 14–16 of ‘An die Geliebte’ echoes that impulse. The descending chromaticism draws our attention toward the dominant, and in turn, toward tonic, while the ascending chromaticism draws attention toward the subdominant, and at least temporarily away from the tonic, underscoring the differing characters of the two songs. Yet the pitch-specific recurrences tie them together.

The authentic cadence at the end of ‘An die Nachtigall’s introduction in bars 7–8 also features both descending and ascending semitones, G4–F♯4–G4. In Example 7, the descending semitones F♮4–E4, and C4–B3, repeated in the lowest strand of the piano part of bars 23–29, also stress the descending semitone. Schubert’s use of modal interchange, which Susan Wollenberg describes as one of the composer’s ‘fingerprints’, surely embodies both ascending and descending chromaticism as well.Footnote ³⁵ In bars 29–37 of ‘An die Nachtigall’, which feature the singer’s supplication to the nightingale (see Ex. 7), B♮s change to B♭s and back again, embodying ascending and descending chromaticism on a broader scale. It is significant that the voice avoids B4 and B♭4 in bar 36, as does the piano in bars 38 and 40. B♮3, however, is approached from above in bars 38–41, hidden within an inner voice. Within these two lieder, the semitone seems to symbolize fluctuant emotional intensity.

The interval of the minor seventh also attracts attention in ‘An die Nachtigall’. For instance, a minor seventh from F♮5 to G4 spans bars 10–21. And each of the even-numbered measures between bars 14 and 28 features a major-minor seventh chord, as do bars 31 and 33.Footnote ³⁶ Indeed, the major-minor seventh becomes a characteristic sonority in ‘An die Nachtigall’, its distinctive interval thus readied for a decisive role.

In bar 35, ascending and descending semitones, plus the enharmonic equivalent of a minor seventh, come together in the most distinctive harmonic event of ‘An die Nachtigall’: a striking German augmented sixth followed by a curiously uplifting cadential six-four sonority.Footnote ³⁷ Together, they project and intensify the word ‘Amor’, as Example 10 suggests.

Ex. 10

Schubert: ‘An die Nachtigall’, motivic coincidence in bars 35–36

Climactic and cathartic, this motivic coincidence occurs as the song’s persona beseeches the nightingale for silence. Most curiously, however, it brings back not the preceding minor but the tonic major! In contrast to the open-endedness of ‘An die Geliebte’, a forced finality reigns at the conclusion of ‘An die Nachtigall’. The surprising German augmented sixth, coordinated with the high G5 in the voice, would seem to signal the arrival of a dramatic half cadence in G minor, with an attendant emphasis on the dominant harmony, and perhaps considerably more music and text thereafter. Yet the subsequent cadential six-four sonority actually leads to a brief dominant seventh and a rather perfunctory perfect authentic cadence in G major, followed by two more authentic cadences in short order for good measure, before the lied concludes. Within the drama of this lied, Schubert’s expeditious ending communicates determined closure.

A musical process unfolds over these lieder, initiated within ‘An die Geliebte’ and concluded within ‘An die Nachtigall’. The shared opening material establishes an intended and intimate connection between the two songs, and the emphasis on the intervals of the semitone and the minor seventh links them as well. When these intervals coalesce into a remarkable German augmented sixth chord in the latter song, at a particularly decisive point in its narrative, the contextual process reaches its climax and conclusion. But what does all of this mean?Footnote ³⁸ Some context may help.

Bookends

In April of 1816, at the age of 19, Schubert applied for a music master’s position at the Normal School in Laibach, supported by a testimonial from Antonio Salieri.Footnote ³⁹ By early September, he learned that he did not get the job.Footnote ⁴⁰ An entry from Schubert’s diary on 8 September reveals a young man stunned by the news, attempting to grasp its implications.Footnote ⁴¹ And perhaps by the end of the year, Schubert perceived a future with Therese was not possible.Footnote ⁴² Traces of that realization may remain within ‘An die Nachtigall’.

In November of 1816, when ‘An die Nachtigall’ was composed, one might assume that Schubert had conceived it as being sung by Therese, perhaps metaphorically as well as literally. If so, it would be easy to suppose that Schubert had, wishfully thinking, imagined himself the sleeping lover.Footnote ⁴³ But if Schubert was a romantic realist, he may have interpreted his chosen text more philosophically, even stoically: the ‘he’ referred to by the lied’s speaking persona could well be an ‘it’ and correspond to an impossible love kept close to the woman’s heart, sung to sleep by her guardian angel, a love she begs the nightingale not to awaken. And under the circumstances at that point, which cannot be ignored, the climactic phrase ‘Sing mir den Amor nicht wach’ – ‘Do not sing my Love awake’ – might have multiple implications. For instance, it could voice a hope Schubert may have had – a wish that his affection for Therese be allowed to sleep. Or perhaps it expresses renunciationandmoving on – his recognition and acceptance of Therese as a muse and nothing more.Footnote ⁴⁴ Indeed, perhaps more than one of these views may be true, for Schubert never averred that there was but one meaning within a song.Footnote ⁴⁵ Whichever one prefers, it appears clear, both textually and musically, that ‘An die Nachtigall’ concludes what ‘An die Geliebte’ began.

‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ may be regarded as a complementary and conversational pair that frame an episode of Schubert’s life. The autograph and a copy of ‘An die Geliebte’ remained in Schubert’s possession until his death, perhaps kept as mementoes. ‘An die Nachtigall’ was submitted for publication a dozen years after its composition and published eight months after his death.Footnote ⁴⁶ Like its companion, Schubert may have felt it brought back too many memories, or may have been too self-revelatory for release. Fortunately, by preserving these brief but uniquely bound lieder, Schubert has allowed us to infer what they have to say.

Besides inviting interpretation, these songs also prompt intriguing questions. Could ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ ever be sung together? Certainly, I would think, if properly contextualized, and especially if programmed with others from the same era. Are there more pairs or groups of Schubert’s lieder that feature such links or parallels? Definitely!Footnote ⁴⁷ For instance, Schubert’s ‘Horch, Horch, die lerche!’, based on lines from Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, and ‘Ständchen’, a setting of verse Ludwig Rellstab from Schwanengesang – serenades whose moods could scarcely be more different – nevertheless share as fundamental premises a common contextual process, as well as the persuasive impulse characteristic of their genre, with the latter bearing distinctive depth and maturity absent in the first.Footnote ⁴⁸ Thus they would seem affiliated, like variations on a theme, though much less conspicuous. With some 700 companions within Schubert’s œuvre, surely more such associations may be found, and this conversation will continue.

Footnotes

An earlier version of this essay was read at the Fiftieth Annual Conference of the Royal Music Association, held at the University of Leeds on 5 September 2014. I thank Mississippi State University’s Office of Research and Development, the Dean’s Office of its College of Education and its Department of Music for the kind support accorded me on that occasion.

¹ In the middle of the twentieth century, ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ were scarcely discussed in the Schubert literature. For instance, there is no mention of either lied in Erich Deutsch’s, Otto Schubert: A Documentary Biography, trans. Eric Blom (London: Dent, 1946) and Brown’s, Maurice J.E. Schubert: A Critical Biography (London: MacMillan, 1958). However, Alfred Einstein speculated that ‘An die Nachtigall’ may be ‘the prototype of some of Hugo Wolf’s loveliest Mörike songs’; see his Schubert: A Musical Portrait (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951): 141. The fortunes of these lieder appear to have changed little by the century’s end, for there is no reference to either song in McKay’s, Elizabeth Franz Schubert: A Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), Newbould’s, Brian Schubert (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997), or Gibbs’, Christopher The Life of Schubert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). Nevertheless, John Reed waxes enthusiastic: ‘The best-known of the Claudius songs is “Der Tod und das Mädchen” (Death and the Maiden) D531, but perhaps the finest of them is “An die Nachtigall” (To the Nightingale) D497, which evokes a new world of subjective feeling in its forty-one bars. The song begins off-key, borrowing a device already exploited a year earlier in “An die Geliebte” (To the Beloved) D303. At bar 22, the notes begin to dance with joy, and then to yearn with passionate longing … The major/minor exchanges here are much more than a traditional device. They seem to sum up the essence of the poetic experience of life. Perhaps here, for the first time, we become aware of the Innigkeit, the subjective feeling for the fragility of life and joy, which was to sustain a century of Romantic song’. See , Reed, Schubert, rev. ed., (New York: Schirmer, 1997): 35–36 .

² Some of the relative anonymity of ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ might be attributed to their belated publication. Deutsch reports that ‘An die Geliebte’ appeared in 1887 within the volume, Schubert Album: book 7, edited by Max Friedlaender and published by Peters in Leipzig, and that ‘An die Nachtigall’ appeared in 1829, when it was published by Diabelli in Vienna as the composer’s Op. 98, No. 1; see The Schubert Thematic Catalogue, by Otto Erich Deutsch in collaboration with Donald Wakeling (Mineola, NY: Dover, 1995 [1951]): 134 and 221. For more, see Brown, Maurice, ‘The Posthumous Publication of the Songs’, in his Essays on Schubert (London: Macmillan, 1966), 286 and 272.

³ Youens, Susan, ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, in German Lieder in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996): 52–54 .

⁴ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 53 .

⁵ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 53 , 55. Robert Hatten describes Schubert’s treatment of his chosen texts as a dominative process in which lyric poems ‘inevitably concede something of their music to an appropriation by, and not merely a translation into, another artistic medium’; see Hatten, , ‘A Surfeit of Musics: What Goethe’s Lyrics Concede when Set to Schubert’s Music’, Nineteenth-Century Music Review 5/4 (2008): 7 . See also Lorraine Byrne Bodley’s article, ‘In Pursuit of a Single Flame? On Schubert’s Settings of Goethe’s Poems’, elsewhere in this volume, which responds to Hatten’s earlier essay.

⁶ Schubert’s best-known instances of self-borrowings, including those involving the ‘Trout’ quintet, the ‘Death and the Maiden’ quartet and the ‘Wanderer’ fantasy, evoke and are informed by the songs on which they are based. However, it appears that the two lieder under consideration here represent a similar case within the composer’s vocal literature, where, in general, the products were not intended to replace their predecessors. In contrast, we should recall Schubert’s ‘Erlkönig’, which was written in 1815 and then revised three more times before it was published as his Op. 1 in 1821, the fourth version (D. 328) being the one that usually represents his masterpiece today. Thus, with ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’, it may be more appropriate to speak of ‘self-borrowing’ than ‘revision’, since both songs seem finished, distinct and successful – and both still exist.

⁷ Stoll had been a journalist and theatre director in Vienna. Shortly after his death in 1815, Schubert set three of Stoll’s poems, including ‘Lambertine’ (D. 301) and ‘Labetrank der Liebe’ (D. 302), as well as ‘An die Geliebte’ (D. 303).

⁸ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 53 .

⁹ Of ‘An die Geliebte’, John Reed observes: ‘The autograph, now in ÖNB [Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna], is a first draft, dated 15 October 1815. There is a dated copy in the Witteczek-Spaun collection (Vienna, GdM [Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna]). The song was first published by Peters of Leipzig in 1887. The song was written, along with seven others, on the name day of Schubert’s first love, Therese Grob, so there is little doubt about the identity of ‘die Geliebte’. The curious thing is that a year later, in November 1816, he used the same musical idea as the basis for a much greater song, his setting of the Claudius poem ‘An die Nachtigall’ (D497). This too is a love song, and more personal in tone than ‘An die Geliebte’. A comparison of the two songs tells us more about the development of Schubert’s genius between October 1815 and November 1816 than about his love-life. For whereas ‘An die Geliebte’ is very singable, the Claudius song is a masterpiece, which uses the off-key opening to much better purpose’; see Reed, John, The Schubert Song Companion (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997): 34 .

¹⁰ Graham Johnson, taking note of John Reed’s observation that ‘An die Geliebte’ was one of eight songs composed on Grob’s name-day, concurs but cautions: ‘If he [Schubert] was inspired to a large creative outburst in her honour there is little doubt that it is she who is “die Geliebte”. On the other hand, the link with the name-day may simply be a coincidence: none of these songs was included in the Therese Grob songbook of the following year’. See Johnson, , Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, I (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014): 168 .

¹¹ Deutsch reports that Schubert confessed his love for Therese in a long letter to his friend Anton Holzapfel early in 1815 – which was lost – and that Holzapfel, in a reply – also lost – attempted to dissuade Schubert, speculating: ‘He [Schubert] does not seem to have given up hope of marrying Therese until three years later, and in 1820 she married the master baker Johann Bergman’. Deutsch, Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 45–6. For more of Holzapfel’s account, see Deutsch, Otto Erich, Schubert: Memoirs by His Friends, trans. Rosamund Ley and John Nowell (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1958): 60–62 .

Deutsch adds that Schubert later discussed Therese with Anselm Hüttenbrenner, concluding: ‘If Hüttenbrenner’s recollections of 1858 (Vienna City Library), doubtless wrong in some details, are correct in this respect, Schubert was unable ever to forget Therese Grob, and finally renounced marriage on her account. The reason why she did not become his wife seems to have lain in his hopeless material circumstances at that time’; see Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 46 .

¹² Schubert composed a ‘Cantata for his Father’s Name-Day’ in 1813, and Deutsch asserted that at that time, name days were celebrated more than birthdays in the Catholic countries of central Europe; see Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 38 . Thus, there is a clear precedent for the motivation of Schubert’s creativity by a loved one’s name day. In the calendar of saints, 15 October is dedicated to St Teresa of Ávila, and it was celebrated as the name day of Therese Grob.

¹³ Rita Steblin has offered evidence to suggest that ‘although Schubert confessed his love for Therese to several close friends, Therese herself may have been unaware of the extent of this love until after the appearance of Kreißle’s biography in 1865’; see Steblin, , ‘Schubert’s Beloved Singer Therese Grob: New Documentary Research’, Schubert durch die Brille 29 (2002): 55–100 , specifically p. 81. I thank Christopher Gibbs regarding this resource.

¹⁴ Deutsch, Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 43–4.

¹⁵ Steblin, Rita, ‘Franz Schubert und das Ehe-Consens Gesetz von 1815’, Schubert durch die Brille 9 (1992): 32–42 .

¹⁶ The controversy regarding Schubert’s sexuality need not be revived here, nor will it be settled here, but some readers may wish to consider some of its exchanges as context for the present essay. See: Solomon, Maynard, ‘Franz Schubert and the Peacocks of Benvenuto Cellini’, 19^th Century Music 12/3 (1989): 193–206 ; Steblin, Rita, ‘The Peacock’s Tale: Schubert’s Sexuality Reconsidered’, 19^th Century Music 17/1 (1993): 5–33 ; Solomon, Maynard, ‘Schubert: Some Consequences of Nostalgia’, 19^th Century Music 17/1 (1993): 34–46 ; Agawu, Victor Kofi, ‘Schubert’s Sexuality: A Prescription for Analysis?’, 19^th Century Music 17/1 (1993): 79–82 ; McClary, Susan, ‘Music and Sexuality: On the Steblin/Solomon Debate’, 19^th Century Music 17/1 (1993): 83–88 ; Webster, James, ‘Music, Pathology, Sexuality, Beethoven, Schubert’, 19^th Century Music 17/1 (1993): 89–93 . More recently, Steblin’s, Rita article, ‘In Defense of Scholarship and Archival Research: Why Schubert’s Brothers were Allowed to Marry’, Current Musicology 62 (1998): 7–17 , directly and convincingly answers a question posed earlier by Maynard Solomon in his article, ‘Schubert: Some Consequences of Nostalgia’, while her chapter, ‘Schubert’s Problematic Relationship with Johann Mayrhofer: New Documentary Evidence’, in Essays on Music and Culture in Honor of Herbert Kellman, ed. Barbara Haggh (Turnhout, BE: Brepols, 2001), 465–95, addresses presumptions and misconceptions regarding Schubert’s friend. I thank an anonymous peer reviewer of this essay for the encouragement to include these references here, as well as other kind suggestions for improvement.

¹⁷ During 1816, after the composition of ‘An die Geliebte’ and before the composition of ‘An die Nachtigall’, Schubert assembled a set of 17 songs, known today as the ‘Therese Grob Songbook’, which he gave to his friend Heinrich Grob (1800–1855), who was Therese’s younger brother and a cellist with whom Schubert collaborated. For an introduction to this music, see Brown, Maurice J.E., ‘The Therese Grob Collection of Songs by Schubert’ Music and Letters 49/2 (1968): 122–134 . Rita Steblin concludes her recent essay on Therese with these words: ‘I still think that this collection was intended indirectly for Therese … Many of Schubert’s friends courted and married each other’s sisters, a common practice in the Biedermeier era. Perhaps Schubert was hoping to win Therese’s heart by forming a closer friendship with her brother. Thus, he may have given these songs to Heinrich, perhaps assuming that they would end up in Therese’s possession’. See Steblin, ‘Schubert’s Beloved Singer Therese Grob: New Documentary Research’, 99. If this album was meant to sustain Schubert’s presence in the Grob home when he was not there, the earlier ‘An die Geliebte’ may have been intended as a more pointed and purposeful message.

¹⁸ ‘An die Geliebte’ belongs to an extraordinarily productive period in Schubert’s life, for 142 songs issued from his pen in 1815, a year often referred to as his annus mirabilis, see Johnson, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, III, p. 819. Among those composed that year were ‘Heidenröslein’, ‘Erlkönig’ and ‘Erster Verlust’ (discussed by Lorraine Byrne Bodley elsewhere in this volume).

¹⁹ An anonymous reader of this paper pointed out that C major and A minor are briefly tonicized by harmonic sequences that descend by thirds, which are most evident in the bass (C/E–G7/D–C, and Am/C–E7/B–Am, respectively) of the opening bars. The second of these reinforces the suggestion of C as the controlling tonality of the opening of the song, representing its relative minor. Other juxtapositions of the C major/A minor pairing appear in bars 10–11 and 19–20.

²⁰ The pitch sequence G4–F♮4–E4–D4 in bars 26–28 recall the pitches G5–F♮5–E5–D5 heard earlier on the downbeats of bars 1–4, and thus prepare for their imminent return in the second strophe.

²¹ Robert Hatten discusses a more elaborate tonal vacillation involving F minor and A-flat major in Schubert’s ‘Erster Verlust’ (D. 226, 1815), composed over a year before ‘An die Nachtigall’. See Hatten, ‘A Surfeit of Musics’, 15–16. I thank Lorraine Byrne Bodley for reminding me of this passage and reference.

²² Contemporary listeners acquainted with the richly allusive harmony of Fryderyk Chopin, Robert Schumann and Gabriel Fauré, as well as the great range of twentieth-century idioms, may not find Schubert’s ‘An die Geliebte’ disquieting, but in 1815, and particularly within lieder composition at the time, clear tonal orientation at the outset of a song was the norm. Of course, the anticipation elicited by Schubert’s setting is not without precedent in the vocal domain, for it is quite typical of operatic recitatives, which commonly facilitate key changes and effect shifts of focus, but here it calls attention to a composer seeking to expand the nature of a genre. Indeed, what occurs in Schubert’s ‘An die Geliebte’ is rather unconventional with respect to the era’s lieder, as a comparison with Ludwig van Beethoven’s setting of the very same text – his own ‘An die Geliebte’, WoO 140 (1811) – demonstrates. In this regard, Graham Johnson puts it well: ‘In this instance, it is clear that Schubert was not in the slightest influenced by his great contemporary’; see Johnson, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, I, 169.

²³ For more on the concept of precursive prolongation, see Sobaskie, James William, ‘Tonal Implication and the Gestural Dialectic in Schubert’s A Minor String Quartet’, in Schubert the Progressive, ed. Brian Newbould (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000): 56–62 ; Sobaskie, James William, ‘The ‘Problem’ of Schubert’s String Quintet’, Nineteenth-Century Music Review 2/1 (2005): 84–86 ; and especially Sobaskie, James William, ‘Precursive Prolongation in the Préludes of Chopin’, Journal of the Society for Musicology in Ireland 3 (2007–08): 25–61 (www.music.ucc.ie/jsmi/index.php/jsmi/issue/view/5), where the concept’s theoretical bases are established and its analytic utility is demonstrated. Precursive prolongations include melodic prefixes like appoggiaturas, and harmonic prefixes like applied dominants, but also extended contrapuntal-harmonic passages and pieces – like Schubert’s song – which sometimes are described as auxiliary cadences. However, the concept of precursive prolongation avoids inherent weaknesses within the auxiliary cadence idea, while remaining fully congruent with Schenkerian theory. It does so by drawing upon the principles of structural levels, voice leading and diminution, and by emphasizing the obvious prefixial and anticipatory nature of these structures, rather than regarding them as instances of harmonic patterns that have been hypothetically ‘transferred’ from higher structural levels and ‘abbreviated’; see Sobaskie, ‘Precursive Prolongation in the Préludes of Chopin’, 36–9, for a formal definition of this concept.

²⁴ Several other songs composed around the time of ‘An die Geliebte’ suggest that Schubert may have been fascinated with the expressive potential of precursive prolongations. For instance, his ‘Nähe des Geliebten’ (‘Nearness of the beloved’; 1815; D. 162) initially alludes to E-flat minor and delays confirmation of tonic G-flat major until the end of the second phrase. Two of the songs from the ‘Therese Grob Songbook’, Klage (‘Lament’; 1816; D. 415) and ‘Edone’ (‘Edone’; 1816; D. 445) reverse that pattern; in the former, F major appears to hold sway for 19 bars before it is supplanted by D minor in the last ten bars, while in the latter, E-flat major and C minor appear to alternate for the first 31 bars until C minor finally wrests control in the last six. Yet perhaps the most charming instance from this era must be ‘An den Schlaf’ (‘To sleep’; 1816; D. 447), where first-inversion tonic harmonies repeatedly give way to dominants, which, in turn, continuously evade a satisfying resolution to tonic A major until the very last sung word – ‘Glück’ – to add poignancy to the plea of one asking for sleep to come and assuage his lost happiness. All may be interpreted as precursive prolongations, and, taken together, seem to reveal an artist interested in eliciting and manipulating expectation for engaging and expressive effects. Schubert’s ‘Dass sie hier gewesen’ (‘That she has been here’; 1823?; D. 775), perhaps the most remarkable instance of precursive prolongation in his œuvre, represents a continuation and a culmination of this pursuit of poetic allusiveness within his musical fabrics.

²⁵ The voice’s D5 prolongs the effect of the preceding F5, which is contextually superior.

²⁶ Schubert’s appropriations often intensify, enrich and sometimes even swerve from his poet’s original expressive message. However, in a recent essay, Susan Youens has illuminated a remarkable instance in Schubert’s ‘Der Einsame’ (1825; D. 800) where ‘a composer conducts a quarrel with a poet’s ideas from within his or her musical setting’; see Youens, Susan, ‘The Grit in the Oyster, or How to Quarrel with a Poet’, in Words and Notes in the Long Nineteenth Century, ed. Phyllis Weliver and Katherine Ellis (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2013): 206 . In this light, Schubert’s nuanced setting of ‘An die Geliebte’ may be seen as a specimen of persuasion, albeit more seductive than argumentative.

²⁷ See Johnson, Graham, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, I, 168 .

²⁸ Graham Johnson observes: ‘This [‘An die Nachtigall’] is one of the finest songs of 1816: brevity, classical poise and restraint are suffused with achingly beautiful intimations of the Romantic era. The song opens in unconventional fashion in the subdominant, C major. This had already been tried by Schubert a year before in the Stoll setting ‘An die Geliebte’ D303; indeed Schubert liked the opening of that song so much that here he unashamedly borrows from himself, something that was far from his usual practice’. See Johnson, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, I, 180. While the notation of these two opening passages is not exactly the same, and both songs remained unpublished until after the composer’s death, one senses – particularly given the characters of the two songs, as well as Schubert’s ‘usual practice’, as Johnson puts it – that ‘An die Nachtigall’ does not so much rescue material from ‘An die Geliebte’ but revisits it from a new perspective.

²⁹ Schubert set 14 poems of Matthias Claudius (1740–1815) between 1815 and 1817, perhaps the best known of which is ‘Der Tod und das Mädchen’ (1817; D. 531). Reed reports that Claudius’s poem ‘An die Nachtigall’ dates from 1771; see Reed, The Schubert Song Companion, 37. Regarding the fifth line of the lied, Graham Johnson indicates that the poet’s original text read ‘Nachtigall, Nachtigall, ach’; Schubert’s insertion of the first ‘Ach’ certainly adds rhythmic balance as it extends the musical phrase, but also intensifies its expression of pain. See Johnson, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, I, p. 180, fn1.

³⁰ Schubert composed another song by the name of ‘An die Nachtigall’, set to the words of Ludwig Hölty, on 22 May 1815, and like the lied under consideration here, the text of his D. 196 includes a plea to the nightingale for quiet. However, unlike it, the earlier song manifests no emergent narrative or shifting interiority, but focuses on the memory of lost love elicited by the bird’s sweet song that frustrates sleep.

³¹ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 54 . ‘Amor’ is a poetic reference to and alternative name for Eros, the male Greek god of love.

³² The association of the nightingale with tragedy and transformation may be traced to the story of Philomela and Procne, which is told in Book VI of Ovid’s Metamorphoses (8 CE), yet may originate in a much earlier lost play of Sophocles dating from the fifth century BCE. Philomela, after violation and mutilation by her sister’s husband, King Tereus, gains a measure of revenge with Procne’s help and escapes the king’s wrath through prayer to the gods, who change her into a nightingale. Since antiquity, the nightingale has appeared frequently in Western literature, its song linked to beauty as well as fatality, as John Keats’ ‘Ode to a nightingale’ (1819) and Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Nightingale and the Rose’ (1888) demonstrate.

³³ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 54 .

³⁴ Youens, , ‘Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song’, 54–55 .

³⁵ Susan Wollenberg reviews the literature on modal interchange and offers new insights on the technique in her book, Schubert’s Fingerprints: Studies in the Instrumental Works (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011): 15–46.

³⁶ The last six of these invert the minor seventh interval to a major second.

³⁷ Robert Hatten describes cadential six-four sonorities like this as ‘arrival six-fours’; see Hatten, Robert S., Musical Meaning in Beethoven: Markedness, Correlation, and Interpretation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994): 15 and 97, as well as Robert S. Hatten, Interpreting Musical Gestures, Topics and Tropes: Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004): 24–8. Following the preceding span in the parallel minor, the augmented-sixth chord of bar 35 initiates a minor-to-major transformation, not unlike that of a Picardy third, and creates the effect of a breakthrough, an arrival in a fresh, new state of being, when the six-four sonority sounds in bar 36. Context is everything in a brief lied like this, and such familiar voice-leading events, which otherwise might be overlooked, can convey a lot – here, in context, this construction communicates impressions of transformation and transcendence. Of the instance in ‘An die Nachtigall’, Robert Hatten told me: ‘This is an example in which the rhetorical effect of arrival and the syntactic effect of a cadential 6/4 resolving immediately to V are in balance, and thus the arrival 6/4 effect is likely to be missed by theories of tonal syntax alone’.

³⁸ My research into Schubert’s late music reveals a pursuit of coherence within and among separate pieces via contextual musical processes. See Sobaskie, ‘Tonal Implication and the Gestural Dialectic’; Sobaskie, James William, ‘A Balance Struck: Gesture, Form, and Drama in Schubert’s E flat Major Piano Trio’, in Le style instrumental de Schubert: sources, analyse, contexte, évolution, ed. Xavier Hascher (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2007): 115–146 ; Sobaskie, James William, ‘The “Problem” of Schubert’s String Quintet’, Nineteenth-Century Music Review 2/1 (2005): 57–92 . ‘An die Geliebte’ and ‘An die Nachtigall’ would seem to suggest that Schubert’s quest for binding separate pieces certainly started earlier.

³⁹ See Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 52–6, 58–60 , 66–70. Laibach, now called Ljubljana, was part of the Austrian empire in Schubert’s day; today it is the capitol of Slovenia.

⁴⁰ It appears that the decision to award the position to another candidate had been taken on 20 August 1816 and that applicants were to be informed by 7 September by the Civic Guard of Vienna. A diary entry by Johann Mayrhofer on 7 September that reads: ‘Schubert and several friends are to come to me to-day, and the fogs of the present time, which is somewhat leaden, shall be lifted by his melodies’, suggests the composer already knew he did not get the job. See Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 69–70 .

⁴¹ Full of random reflections, Schubert’s diary entry for 8 September 1816 contains such telling statements as ‘Man resembles a ball, to be played with by chance and passion … Happy he who finds a true man-friend. Happier still he who finds a true friend in his wife. To a free man matrimony is a terrifying thought in these days: he exchanges it either for melancholy or for crude sensuality. Monarchs of to-day, you see this and are silent. Or do you not see it? If so, O God, shroud our senses and feelings in numbness; yet take back the veil again one day without lasting harm … To be noble and unhappy is to feel the full depths of misfortune and happiness, just as to be noble and happy is to feel happiness and misfortune’. See Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 70–71 .

⁴² Anselm Hüttenbrenner (1794–1868) sent Franz Liszt some memories of Schubert around 1854, which included recollected statements from a conversation with the composer. According to Hüttenbrenner, Schubert told him: ‘I loved someone very dearly and she loved me too. She was a schoolmaster’s daughter, somewhat younger than myself and in a Mass, which I composed, she sang the soprano solos most beautifully and with great feeling … For three years she hoped I would marry her; but I could not find a position which would have provided for us both. She then bowed to her parents’ wishes and married someone else, which hurt me very much. I still love her and there has been no one else since who has appealed to me as much or more than she. She was just not meant for me’. See Deutsch, , Schubert: Memoirs by His Friends, 182 . While Hüttenbrenner committed these words to paper over a quarter-century after Schubert’s death, bearing errors of fact (Therese’s father had passed away in 1804 and his widow continued to run the family silk factory near the Lichtental Church in what is now the northern part of Vienna), they do seem to suggest that Schubert had resigned himself to his loss; see Deutsch, , Schubert: A Documentary Biography, 47 .

⁴³ My research on Schubert’s late instrumental and sacred choral music suggests that under the duress of his chronic illness, some of the masterworks of his final years may have arisen through retreat into the refuge of his creative imagination, where alternative and transcendental realities could exist, and where present circumstances did not intrude. See Sobaskie, James William, ‘Schubert’s Self-Elegies’, Nineteenth-Century Music Review 5/2 (2008): 71–105 , as well as Sobaskie, James William, ‘Contextual Processes in Schubert’s Late Sacred Choral Music’, in Rethinking Schubert Rethinking Schubert, ed. Lorraine Byrne Bodley and Julian Horton (Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming). If Schubert sought solace within imaginal realms later in life during times of distress, why not earlier, when it became clear that his relationship with Therese would not become what he had hoped?

Graham Johnson makes a similar point in his commentary on Die schöne Müllerin: ‘Alone and terminally ill, Schubert had to face the stark realities of the future as he worked on this cycle … He had no psychiatrist to whom he could pour out his problems, but he had the self-preserving instincts given to the greatest of artists: Schubert did not drown himself and he kept his talents not only intact but more finely honed than ever before … In writing Die schöne Müllerin the composer was in effect his own psychiatrist; he worked through his problems by transferring his disappointments and grief on to the shoulders of the young miller’. See Johnson, Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, II, p. 885.

⁴⁴ I thank Lorraine Byrne Bodley for sharing this thought with me.

⁴⁵ In her essay, ‘In Pursuit of a Single Flame? On Schubert’s Settings of Goethe’s Poems’, elsewhere in this volume, Lorraine Byrne Bodley explores ways in which Schubert’s appropriations of poetic content may have produced results that depart significantly from the intentions of the poet and allow for different interpretations, depending on perspective.

⁴⁶ Of ‘An die Nachtigall’, John Reed attests: ‘The song was published in July 1829 as op. 98 no. 1 by Diabelli. The opus number may have been assigned by Schubert himself’. See Reed, The Schubert Song Companion, 37. Schubert’s Op. 97, the sacred song ‘Glaube, Hoffnung und Liebe’, composed to a text by Christoff Kuffner, appeared on 6 October 1828, six weeks before the composer died, so it is possible that he even had had an opportunity to examine the proof of ‘An die Nachtigall’, as Graham Johnson suggests; see Johnson, , Franz Schubert: The Complete Songs, II, 474–475 .

⁴⁷ See Kramer’s, Richard Distant Cycles: Schubert and the Conceiving of Song (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994).

⁴⁸ ‘Dramatic Implications of Contextual Processes in Two Serenades of Schubert’, in Drama in the Music of Franz Schubert, ed. Joe Davies and James Sobaskie (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, forthcoming).