The devastating impact of Franz Schubert’s Winterreise arises from our identification with its primary persona. We walk with the wanderer, privy to his thoughts, and imagine ourselves in his shoes, psychologically associating ourselves with the authorial creation. Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin also inspires identification, but our rapport with its central character gradually grows tenuous. We witness the journeyman’s enthusiasm, but become troubled by his choices and perceptions, wondering why common sense or rationality doesn’t intervene. Both cycles set Wilhelm Müller’s poetry, feature rejected unfortunates, and address mortality. Yet we regard and respond to their focal figures differently. Die schöne Müllerin solicits sympathy for its greenhorn, encouraging us to understand his feelings and regret his unhappiness.

Introduction

Franz Schubert fussed over his fifth Mass. Starting the score in November 1819, he considered it complete three years later. A letter sent to Josef von Spaun on 7 December 1822 testifies: ‘My Mass is finished, and is to be produced before long. I still have my old notion of dedicating it to the emperor or empress, as I think it a success’. Nevertheless, Schubert made substantial changes in 1826 and 1827. While the Mass in Ab major (D. 678) was the most expansive he had composed till then, its eight-year development is curious, given his reputation for quick work.

Why would Schubert take such trouble?

Sacred choral music flourished in nineteenth-century Vienna, fostered by the Catholic Church to gather and inspire its faithful. Initially, Schubert may have conceived the Mass in Ab major as a contribution to his community's spiritual life. Parts had been copied and plans had been made for its premiere at a Wahring parish in 1824. Even so, further refinement would come, perhaps prompted by other hopes and opportunities.

Sacred choral music also served the Habsburg Empire as a reflection of power, and Schubert may have seen his Mass as a means of attracting imperial attention. A warm reception surely would have brought new connections and commissions to the composer, then in his mid- to later twenties, demonstrating productive potential. Indeed, both spiritual and temporal authorities would value its success.

Ultimately, Schubert's Mass in Ab major served the composer as a professional credential. Bolstering his application for the Court's Vice Chapel-Master post in 1826, it demonstrated that he could supply what was expected of the office-holder. Nevertheless, a broader perspective reveals another potential source of motivation.

Schubert recognized that he belonged to an extraordinary creative culture centred in Vienna. Emulating Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, his production was diverse as well as voluminous, and his confidence in himself and his art seems to have been braced by taking the long view. Moreover, Schubert seems to have realized that his music not only contributed to that culture, but also broke new ground.

Constraints and Misconceptions

As Lorraine Byrne Bodley suggests in the first chapter of our volume, Franz Schubert was thought a failure in the field of dramatic music throughout much of the twentieth century. This perception stemmed in part from the lack of critical acclaim for certain of his large-scale stage works, as well as ignorance of other projects that were never performed nor closely studied. For instance, the melodrama Die Zauberharfe (D. 644) and the Singspiel Die Zwillingsbrüder (D. 647) were briefly staged in Vienna during 1820, but they attracted little attention and enjoyed no revivals during the composer's lifetime. Regrettably, the more substantial operas Alfonso und Estrella (D. 732; 1822) and Fierabras (D. 796; 1823) were never produced, while several other promising theatrical endeavours, including Adrast (D. 137; 1817), Claudine von Villa Bella (D. 239; 1815), and Der Graf von Gleichen (D. 918; 1827), as well as the sacred oratorio Lazarus (D. 689; 1820), remained incomplete at his death. Without positive critical reception of these works, and no demonstrable evidence of their influence on later composers, the opinion arose that Schubert lacked the capacity for dramatic music.

Many factors seem to have conspired to limit Schubert's success in the venerable vocal domain. Italian and French opera remained dominant in early nineteenthcentury Vienna, and new, home-grown works were hard-pressed to compete. The unique achievements of Mozart's Die Entführung aus dem Serail (K. 384; 1782) and Die Zauberflöte (K. 620; 1791) were difficult to duplicate and had not yet led to a strong, clearly defined German tradition, while the implications of Carl Maria von Weber's Der Freischutz (Op. 77; 1821) had not yet been fully realized. There was limited local financial support for opera at the time, and, quite understandably, benefactors hesitated to take chances on unproven artists. Certainly the implications of the newly emerging Romantic aesthetic for dramatic music were not quite clear. And of course, Schubert needed to earn a living and could not focus solely on opera. While this survey surely represents an over-simplification of the composer's creative circumstances, it appears that the time just was not right for Schubert to contribute to traditionally recognized dramatic genres.