"Unvollendete"

-
1797 to 1828 was all he had. Franz Schubert died young. A student of Antonio Salieri, Schubert became obsessed with music at a young age. Days were long doing little but composing. When he started teaching piano, he was known to stop composing music only to discipline a student who interrupted him.

A typical romantic-bohemian, borrowing money, living in other people's homes, he sold his music cheap and spent any earnings drinking and reciting poetry with friends who loved and performed his music ("Schubertians").

Schubert's Symphony No. 8 is known as his "Unvollendete" (Unfinished), as he started the piece in 1822 and only completed the first two movements. As a joke, young music students penned lyrics to the melody found in the cello and echoed by the violins after the first minute or so,

"This is the symphony that Schubert wrote but didn't finish; 
this is the symphony that Schubert wrote but didn't finish, 
th' unfinished symphony . . . "



We don't know why the piece sat untouched for six years before his death. One wonders if he was interrupted and lost the muse, like Coleridge when writing "Kubla Khan" or if syphilis kept him too ill to concentrate. To deepen the mystery, why did his friends, the "Schubertians," keep the piece hidden for 37 more years after his death?

Regardless, it makes one think about life and the zero guarantee that one will see another five minutes. What will one accomplish? What will be left "Unvollendete"? Live as if each day were the last, do what you are able and do it well. Let people know you love them while you can, but be ready to go (or let them go) at any time. 

Popular posts from this blog

The Island-Fish

-
Image
  “O ye passengers, whom may God preserve! come up quickly in to the ship, hasten to embark, and leave your merchandise, and flee with your lives, and save yourselves from destruction; for this apparent island, upon which ye are, is not really an island, but it is a great fish that hath become stationary in the midst of the sea, and the sand hath accumulated upon it, so that it hath become like an island, and trees have grown upon it since times of old; and when ye lighted the fire upon it, the fish felt the heat, and put itself in motion, and now it will descend with you into the sea, and ye will all be drowned: then seek for yourselves escape before destruction, and leave the merchandise.—The passengers, therefore, hearing the words of the master of the ship, hastened to go up into the vessel, leaving the merchandise, and their other goods, and their copper cooking-pots, and their fire-pots; and some reached the ship, and others reached it not. The island had moved, and descended...
Read more

“And so, about this tomb of mine . . . “

-
Image
  “VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity!  Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?  Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well—  She, men would have to be your mother once,  Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was!  What’s done is done, and she is dead beside,  Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since,  And as she died so must we die ourselves,  And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream.  Life, how and what is it?  As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees,  Hours and long hours in the dead night,  I ask “Do I live, am I dead?”  Peace, peace seems all.  Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace;  And so, about this tomb of mine.  I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know:  —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care;  Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner  South He graced his carrion with,  God curse the same!  Yet still my niche is not so cramped...
Read more