If we may venture to say so, Schubert seems to have found himself in one of those exceptional cases in which the Gluckist form was not suitable. Why this sombre coloring, when Death was doing his utmost to charm the young girl?
“Give me thy hand, nor tremble thus,
Enfolded in my arms, thou’lt sink
Into a sleep more sweet than life.”[175]
Here a more melodic phrase would appear to us more suitable.
Having no intention of giving a catalogue of the works of Schubert,[176] we will not group together his Lieder, but merely observe that all his melodies belong to one of three divisions, which express either love, or splendor, joy, and triumph, or, lastly, terror. Many combine two of these divisions. In “Marguérite” the principal idea is that of love, and the secondary one the drama; on the contrary, in “La Jeune Religieuse” the drama occupies the first place, and the earthly love is subordinate.
Our notice would be too incomplete without at least a rapid survey of the other works of Schubert besides the Lied, in which he is unequalled, but he has also tried symphonies, operas, and oratorios. Of his operas, which are numerous, two only have obtained some reputation—namely, Alfonso and Estrella, chiefly famous for its reverses, and La Guerre Domestique (The Domestic War), known in France by the name of La Croisade des Dames. This charming opera in one act was played with success a few years ago at the Théâtre des Fantaisies in Paris, and in every page could be recognized with pleasure the author of the Lieder. Its distinguishing qualities are the touching tenderness of the melody, the brilliancy and delicacy of the organ accompaniment, and the perfection in the manner of writing for the voices.
Schubert undertook also some more extensive works, many of which, unfortunately, were never completed, while the rest are lost in consequence of that absence of
care and order which has probably cost us the loss of more than one valuable composition. Ought we to regret that Schubert has not left one great opera in which he might have displayed all his faculties? We think so, although we do not say that he would have proved himself to be a musician like Mozart, a master of tragedy like Gluck or gifted with Weber’s power of fantastic coloring, capable of the sustained passion of Meyerbeer or the powerful developments of Wagner. But tenderness and sweetness would have flowed in streams from his heart, and the work would have been so full of poetry and so rich in characteristic beauties that his place would still have been a glorious one. Who can deny that M. Gounod is a great composer? And yet it would be difficult to name a really powerful page, unless it be the church scene in Faust, and the finale in Sappho. Posterity will say of him that he was deficient in force, but that Marguérite is very enchanting, Romeo and Juliet full of tenderness, and Mireille of poetry; and doubtless as much as this would have been said of Schubert.
In his symphonies and drawing-room music Schubert, no longer carried on by feeling, frequently fails. The subscribers to the popular concerts of the Cirque d’hiver in Paris have not forgotten the fragments of his symphonies which were at various times executed under the able direction of M. Pasdeloup. These selections were taken from the best, and there was certainly here and there a page which breathed inspiration. But praise like this is no small blame, and it is a severe criticism on a symphony to detach merely an isolated portion from it, and condemn the remainder to oblivion.