During his final two years Schubert created his supreme music, enjoyed his broadest public recognition, and could realistically look toward growing professional success. That this period also spans Beethoven's last illness and the twenty months separating their deaths is, I think, more than just a coincidence. After the passing of his artistic father figure, Schubert produced a sustained series of masterpieces unprecedented in his career; at the same time, he sought public exposure with increasing urgency. Redoubling efforts begun some years earlier, Schubert contacted publishers himself, performed in public, and planned highly visible concerts. Beethoven's death left a gaping void in the musical world, and we patronize Schubert if we imagine he would not have considered himself worthy of assuming his great predecessor's mantle. He was now prepared.

When in March 1827 Schubert participated as a torchbearer in Beethoven's funeral, he heard a question – a challenge, in fact – posed in Franz Grillparzer's celebrated oration: “He was an artist … Who shall stand beside him?” What must Schubert, recently turned thirty and himself in precarious health, have thought hearing the words of his literary friend read in tribute to his musical hero? Grillparzer invoked the names in the pantheon of German musical genius as he welcomed Beethoven to their company. What did Schubert make of the question of who would be the next immortal composer? And yet, as the question was being posed, the answer incarnate stood there among the mourners and himself was soon to die.

Although it is almost inconceivable that Beethoven and Schubert did not meet on various occasions, the exact nature of their personal relations remains unclear. Geographical, social, and professional circumstances in Vienna provided ample opportunity for encounters, and yet the evidence is both sparse and contradictory.