Five years later, during his last illness, a collection of some sixty of Schubert’s songs was placed in his hands.  He turned them over and over with amazement and delight.  “Truly Schubert has the divine fire,” he exclaimed.  He wanted to see the composer of such beautiful music.  Schubert came and was allowed to have a talk with him first, before other friends who were waiting.  When Schubert paid another visit to the bedside of the master, it was almost the end of his life, though he could recognize all who stood about him.  Overcome with emotion, Schubert left the room.

A couple of weeks after this Schubert was one of the torch bearers who accompanied the great master to the last resting place.  Little did the young man of thirty dream that he would soon follow after.  His life at this time was full of disappointments.  He had always longed to write for the lyric stage.  He composed numerous operas; but they were always rejected, for one reason or another.  The last, “Fierabras,” which was on the point of being produced, was finally given up.  The composer became very dejected, and believed himself to be the most unfortunate, the most miserable being on earth.  But, fortunately for Schubert, his cheerfulness again asserted itself and the stream of production resumed its flow.  With his temperament, at one moment he would be utterly despairing, the next his troubles would seem to be forgotten, and he would be writing a song, a symphony or a sonata.  At all events, constant work filled his days.  The last year of his life was productive of some of his finest works.

About the end of October, 1828, he began to show signs of a serious breakdown.  He was living at the home of his brother Ferdinand, in one of the suburbs of the city.  Although he revived a little during the early part of November, so that he could resume walks in the neighborhood, the weakness increased, and eleven days passed without food or drink.  Lingering till the nineteenth of November, he passed peacefully away, still in his early manhood.  The old father, the schoolmaster at the old home, hoped to have his son buried in the little cemetery near by.  But Ferdinand knew his brother’s wish, to be placed near Beethoven in Waehringer Cemetery.  The monument, erected by his friends and admirers the following year, bears, above the name, this inscription: 

    “Music has here entombed a rich treasure, but much fairer
    hopes.”

X

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY

Mendelssohn has often been named “Felix the Happy,” and he truly deserved the title.  Blest with a most cheerful disposition, with the power to make friends of every one he met, and wherever he went, the son of a rich banker, surrounded with everything that wealth could give, it was indeed no wonder that Felix Mendelssohn was happy.  He did not have to struggle with poverty and privation as most of the other great musicians were forced to do.  Their music was often the expression of struggle and sorrow.  He had none of these things to bear; he was carefree and happy, and his music reflects the joyous contentment of his life.