(1797-1828)
God sent his singers upon earth
With songs of gladness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men
And bring them back to heaven again.
--LONGFELLOW.
[Illustration: FRANZ PETER SCHUBERT]
[Music: (Hark, Hark! the Lark.) Hark, hark! the lark at Heav'n's gate
sings, And Phoebus 'gins to rise.]
One winter's night in 1797 a little child was born in Vienna. He was
called Franz Peter, and his father was Schubert the schoolmaster. The
home into which the child came was one of poverty. There was a large
family of children to be cared for, and there was but little money with
which to feed and clothe them.
On the day that Franz Schubert was born in that humble home, Haydn was
sixty-five years of age, and the great Beethoven was a young man of
twenty-seven. Mozart had passed away six years before. Little did
Schoolmaster Schubert and his good wife dream that their little son
would one day make the name Schubert as famous as any of these.
Famous, indeed, did the family name become through Franz Peter. And
to-day, if you were to visit Vienna, you would find his first home
marked with a gray stone tablet. Carved into the marble are words
meaning _Birthplace of Franz Schubert_.
Franz started to school when he was six years old. A year or two later
he began the study of music. His teacher soon found that the boy already
knew a great deal. At the close of a lesson one day, he said to the
child, "Who has been your music teacher?"
"May it please you, I have had none but yourself."
"How, then, have you learned so much about music?"
Then the boy told his story. He said that a playmate of his was an
apprentice in a piano factory. Franz often begged to be allowed to go to
the shop. At last his friend said, "You may go with me just this once."
When he was ready to go home, Franz could not be found in the workshop.
The apprentice hurried from one room to another. At last he found the
little lad in the room where the pianos stood. He had been having a
delightful time, picking out exercises on the white keys. Many times
after that he went to the piano factory. Soon he had taught himself all
that most children learn in a great many lessons.
The boy's singing teacher often said to the schoolmaster, "I have never
before had such a pupil." One day he came to the father with tears in
his eyes, saying, "Whenever I want to teach Franz anything, I find he
knows it already."
The boy's father was anxious that Franz should become a member of the
choir in the emperor's chapel. Those who sang in the choir first passed
an examination in music. Then they were allowed to enter a school where
music and other studies were taught.
Franz often saw the choir boys in their uniforms trimmed with bands of
gold, and studied harder that he might one day enter the choir. When he
was eleven years old, he passed the examination. The chapel master said,
"You sing well, indeed, my boy."
When Franz arose to sing for the chapel masters, some of the boys began
to point their fingers at his poor clothes. Franz could hear them
whispering among themselves, "He must be a miller's son." When he began
to sing, the whispering ceased. The sweet, pure tones filled the great
room and the silence was unbroken.
One day the chapel master saw some music that Franz had composed. He
said to himself "Franz Schubert is no ordinary child. He must study
composition in earnest. He shall have the finest harmony teacher."
Franz and his new teacher became fast friends. The lad was eager to
learn, but the master found little to teach. He used to say, "He has
already learned everything, and God has been his teacher."
During the years that Franz attended the choir school it was his custom
to visit his parents on Sunday afternoon. The schoolmaster and three of
his sons had formed a quartet. The father played the violoncello, Franz
the viola, and the others the first and second violins.
Although Franz was the youngest, he was the first to notice a mistake.
If it was one of his brothers who made the mistake, Franz would frown.
If it was the father who played a wrong note, no notice of it was taken
the first time. If he played incorrectly the second time, Franz would
smile and say modestly, "There must be something wrong, father."