Franz Schubert and His World Page 4
Another newsletter, written on 5 November 1818 while Schubert was still in Zseliz, uses the name “Ritter Zimbal,” an appropriate reference to cimbalom, the Hungarian hammered dulcimer. The next newsletter, one week later, is headed with the motto “Heidideldum! Heidideldum! Hopsasa hopsasa Heidideldum!” and opens with an article by Blasius Leks (Josef Kupelwieser) about the Spanish nobleman “Hans from the Hinterland” riding back to Austria on a Hanselbank (sawhorse). The words “Hans in Wien” are underlined for emphasis. Hans, of course, is the diminutive for Johannes, the German form of (Don) Juan, hence another allusion to Schubert as Ritter Juan de la Cimbala. Kupelwieser elaborates on the name to announce that Schubert is about to arrive back in Vienna from his long stay in the “hinterland” of Hungary.30
A remarkable observation regarding Schubert’s sojourn in Hungary is his composition there of a work that explicitly refers to his moniker in the club: Variations on a French Song (D624). This is the four-hand piece consisting of eight variations on Le bon chevalier (Der treue Ritter or The Good Knight) that Schubert later dedicated to Beethoven as Op. 10. It seems highly likely that Schubert chose this particular song about a faithful knight relating the tale of hopeless love (no doubt with autobiographical elements as well) as a tribute to his role as Ritter Juan in the Nonsense Society.
The code name Cimbala/Zimbal is clear in its reference to his musical instrument, the keyboard. But what about the Spanish nobleman—Don Juan? There are, in fact, many jokes in the newsletters about Ritter Juan’s pursuit of women.31 In the same month that Schubert composed his piano duet variations—September 1818—we find the following tale about “Chevalier Touchetout” in the newsletter:
L’observateur curieux [The Curious Observer] has reported—that in the dilemma in which Madame Culronde [Roundbottom] has felt herself placed as the ardent Chevalier Touchetout [Touches Everything], who casually undertook some physical-anatomical investigations with her, and his hand, to the misfortune of the lady and the great astonishment of the Chevalier, instead of the assumed natural curves pulled out some socks—nothing further other than that her dilemma was without end.
There are numerous clues that point to Schubert in this passage. The immediately preceding newsletter item mentions Schuhe (shoes)—Schubert actually means “shoemaker”—and the item directly following discusses a “Caleidoscop.” The French word touche (German Tasten) means not only “touch,” but also piano keys. Chevalier is the French word for Ritter (knight), Ritter Juan is the only code name with this title. In the newsletter dated 12 February 1818, the poem “Impromptu”—which dealt with a sock—follows an article about “a fortepiano for sale.” The poem also jokes about Ritter Cimbala’s lack of expertise as a painter—obviously an inside joke among the many visual artists in the society.
From such passages we can already begin to see the value of this material in uncovering details about Schubert. A close look at the text and illustrations of the Nonsense Society reveals something of a running commentary on what scholarship has been able to piece together from other sources regarding these twenty-one months of Schubert’s life. By April 1817, Schubert, having passed his pedagogy exams in 1814, had been working for some time as an assistant teacher at his father’s school in the district of the Rossau, and the major event of 1818 was his appointment working for Count Esterházy in Zseliz. This remarkably detailed chronicling, or rather spoofing, of the main activities of Schubert’s life during his membership in this club sheds light on other events as well.
The Rossau
According to Deutsch, Schubert moved to the Rossau—the suburb closer to the inner city than the parish of Lichtental, where he grew up—at the end of 1817, after his father was appointed director of the new school-house there.32 Interestingly, the Rossau is mentioned in two Nonsense Society newsletters from November 1817, the very month that the school year began.33 The suspicion therefore looms large that there was already a connection to the Rossau in the newsletters from this month and that these texts contain hidden messages involving Schubert. The fifth surviving newsletter, dated 6 November 1817, begins with the following item, titled “Politisches Allerley” (Political Miscellany), and is signed by Schnautze:
According to reports from the Rossau, a ship is being built there, but we have not yet been able to discover its purpose. However, it is not to be used for war, and one suspects, on account of its build, that it will not at all serve as a transport or merchant ship. But, from its interior furnishings, we believe we may conclude that it will function as it had previously—as a place of eating and drinking [Einkehrwirthshaus]—especially as a man who has already shown himself to be a good host is supposed to be appointed as its commander.34
On 28 October 1817 a petition had been made by the parish priest in the Rossau to appoint Schubert’s father as the new school director. He is praised for having raised all of his sons to be worthy schoolmen. Moreover, he had promised that his sons would provide the music services for the Rossau church for free, thus amounting to a savings for the parish of several hundred Gulden annually. Schubert’s activities for the Nonsense Society, however, help to explain the lack of any substantial sacred music dating from 1818 and suggest that he was now more interested in writing theater music for his friends. The petition was submitted to the higher authorities for approval on 5 November 1817 and one day later the Nonsense Society was already joking about how a ship in the Rossau—meaning the newly built schoolhouse, which would also have included the home of the Schubert family, the only new building constructed in that suburb—would serve them as a place of refreshment. The next item, also written by Eduard Anschütz, begins:
The Klosterneuburger ship’s captain Blaser has safely arrived at the Schanzel this morning with his ship, called Herr Dekan. But, according to his own report, he had to withstand a great deal of adverse wind which he attributes to the load carried by his vessel, since it consisted mainly of garlic and green beans.
The rest of the article is about a rather obscene battle with women selling fruit at the Schanzel, a marketplace alongside the Danube Canal. The ship’s captain “Blaser” is obviously Blasius Leks, that is, Josef Kupelwieser, and his ship—with its name meaning a school dean (Dekan)—is Schubert. Since Josef had a short time earlier written the text to Feuergeist, which the club had begun rehearsing in September 1817, it makes sense that the two friends—librettist and composer—would then have been in close contact.
This ship’s tale, with its mention of wind created by eating gassy foods, probably inspired the story of the voyage through Vienna’s suburbs that appeared in the next surviving newsletter, dated 20 November 1817, illustrated by the picture Windhosen: Der sechste Welttheil in Europa (Wind Trousers: The Sixth Area of the World in Europe; see Figure 7). There are many clues pointing to Schubert here, including his profile on the section of the map labeled “Rossau”: his snub nose and cleft chin are especially visible on the shoreline (to the lower left). The round glass on Schubert’s cheek, with its compass pointing to Frass (gluttony) and Suff (boozing), harks back to the previous mention of eating and drinking. The long text, signed by Blasius Leks, contains the following passage:
Figure 7. Windhosen: Der sechste Welttheil in Europa (Wind Trousers: The Sixth Area of the World in Europe), 20 November 1817. Watercolor by Johann Carl Smirsch (Nina Wutzerl).
Now we sailed to the Rossau where we thought we could fix our foremast which had suffered significantly during the Spittelberg storm and which we, because we lacked help [Hülfe], were in danger of losing completely. The Rossauers might have already noticed us from afar because we saw clearly how they brought wood onshore from the timber rafts in the harbor, in order to defend themselves as we drew closer. Thus we did not find it advisable to land directly at the harbor, but disembarked at a place some distance away, next to the Schanzel bath. There we snuck around via some detours, undergoing cannon fire from the Bear, Eagle, Ship and Star (forts skirting the harbor), deeper into the countryside and finally ar
rived at the main goal, the Swan, where we—unrecognized—had some refreshments and then continued on our journey.35
Figure 7a. Detail from Windhosen, showing the suburb of Spittelberg, with Leopold Kupelwieser’s nose middle right.
Figure 7b. Detail from Windhosen, showing the suburb of New Lerchenfeld.
Spittelberg was a Viennese suburb notorious for its prostitutes. The foremast seems to be Schubert, who as we have seen is often associated in the newsletters with sticks, but also with wood—and, of course, with the Rossau, which was a place where piles of wood were stored. An additional clue is the word Hülfe since Schubert’s official profession at this time was that of a Schulgehülf (assistant school teacher). The word Swan in the text, and the prominent inscription “Zur Schwane” next to the throne (or armchair) topped by a crown and the letter S, was probably added because of the association of Schubert with a “singing swan” (desiring a euphemistic death). The prominent stack of wood labeled “Am Schanzel” next to Schubert’s face has a tiny drawing on it: of a couple making out behind the woodpile. Since Schubert’s first teacher was named Michael Holzer, this may have been a source of the many jokes associating him with wood (Holz).36
The boot at the top of the map, resembling Italy (see Figure 7a), contains the names of various inns—some real, some nonsensical—located in the suburb of Spittelberg, including the made-up name “Zur Nasen” (At The Nose), written on a drawing of Leopold Kupelwieser’s nose.37 Next to his mouth is the sign “Schwimmschule” (Swimming school)—referring to Leopold’s noted skill in swimming. Next to the fortress of “Thuri”—the small suburb directly adjoining Schubert’s birthplace—is a green “tower,” obviously pornographic, labeled “Neu Lerchenfeld” (see Figure 7b). This was the suburb where Josef Kupelwieser—a notorious womanizer—lived, in the house “Roter Stiefel” (Red Boot), as is indicated by the caption “Die Wiesen des Koppers Wohnung” (The Meadows of Kopper’s Residence), with its wordplay on his name, Koppel meaning a fenced-in grazing meadow. Fortress was a term used for a prostitute in Schubert’s (and Beethoven’s) Vienna, and the erect green tower indicates the promised land next to the Egyptian desert of Hernals, another of Vienna’s suburbs. I suspect that Schubert’s Lied Auf der Riesenkoppe (D611), which translates as “On the giant peak” and which he set to a text by Theodor Körner in March 1818, may have been inspired by this map. The song begins: “High on the summit / Of your mountains / I stand and marvel / With glowing fervor, / Sacred peak, / You that storm the heavens.”38 Schubert may have been spoofing Josef’s prowess with women here. (Later, in 1823, Josef would suddenly abandon his Court Theater position to run after the actress Emilie Neumann, with disastrous results for the planned production of Fierabras.)
Swimming from the Spittelberg next to the “Narrenhaus” (House of Fools, the Viennese insane asylum), is a fish wearing eyeglasses—Schubert. He is about to swallow the name “Antifi,” which as we will see has musical significance. The island in the middle of the map is labeled “Landstrasse” and contains a cage with a rooster on top—the regular meeting place of the Nonsense Society. Under the cage is a beckoning finger. This clue, together with the throne topped by a crown and the letter S already mentioned, again point to Schubert’s important role in the society. The newsletters often parodied the works of the popular Viennese theater writer Joachim Perinet (1763–1816), whose hit piece at the time was the travesty opera Aschenschlägel, a Cinderella story with the genders reversed. Schubert, perhaps not surprisingly, was the club’s Cinderella. One of the lines in Perinet’s play reads: “Aschenschlägels Ebenbild ist ein unschuldiger Schwann” (Cinderella’s image is an innocent swan). He sits at the hearth baking buns—hence the necklace of buns which Schnautze wears in his second individual portrait, the one with the gesturing finger (Figure 3). But, instead of losing a slipper, this male Cinderella finds a glove (lost by Insanius, the club’s God). This story line is especially evident in the children’s ballet Insanius on Earth featuring the half-god Hymen (Schubert). Scene 6 contains this passage:
Hymen and the children as geniuses. They have ABC books in their hands and are supposed to learn how to read. They refuse and Hymen gets mad. The children throw their books at his head. Hymen runs around the theater like a fool [Narr] and looks for his stick. He finds Insanius’s glove and dances a minuet with the children who are so astonished that they run away. Hymen alone. He studies the glove and recognizes it. He is happy that Insanius is also here.
An armchair (like the throne on the map) also makes an appearance in the play about Hymen; it is transformed into a tree trunk (that is, wood).
Returning to the map and another favorite writer parodied by the club, Friedrich von Schiller, in particular his poem “Der Handschuh” (The Glove): among its opening lines are the phrases: “Saß König Franz / Und wie er winkt mit dem Finger, / Auf tut sich der weite Zwinger” (King Franz sat / And as he gestured with his finger, the distant prison cell opened). Thus, in this cleverly encoded way, the club joked that Schubert was their “King Franz.” The upper left-hand corner of the map shows a woman sitting in front of a three-legged object that looks remarkably like a spinet. Next to a keg of wine is a man dancing the Austrian “Schuhplattler”—a courtship dance in 3/4 time in which the man slaps the sole of his shoe. Thus, we have here the nonsensical version of “wine, women, and song”—with “song” being replaced by “dance.”39
A similar scenario to the Rossau map is suggested by a two-part tale written by Eduard Anschütz, “Die Fee Musa oder Die verwandelten Jünglinge” (The Fairy Musa or The Transformed Youths) that appeared in the newsletter on 10 and 17 September 1818.40 This fairy tale relates that two members of the Nonsense Society had been so mesmerized by the sensuous charms of the water-nymph Aqualine that they abandoned the virtuous Musa for damp, swampy regions. The two youths were transformed into a fat singing frog (Schubert) and a tall, eloquent carp (Schober), and were so delighted with catching flies in the water that they refused to be rescued by their draisine-riding friends (led by Leopold Kupelwieser). The serialized tale was accompanied by two illustrations: the first one, showing the frog and carp diving into the swamp, was painted by August Kopisch (1799–1853). This young painter and poet from Breslau, whose code name was Galimathias Hirngespinst (Gibberish Headspinner), would later become famous for discovering the Blue Grotto of Capri (in 1826) and for penning the tale about the “Heinzelmännchen of Cologne” (in 1848)—the elves who worked secretly in the night for the tailor, the baker, etc. The second illustration is by the landscape painter Tobias Raulino (1785–1839)—code name Bubone di Stivali (Bubo of the Boots)—and depicts the frog and carp cavorting in an accurate representation of the swimming pool in Vienna at the time. Both pictures also show the incensed Musa and the enticing Aqualine. This illustrated tale is actually a moral message presaging the upright Josef Kenner’s later report to Ferdinand Luib about Schober’s “lasting and pernicious influence over Schubert’s honest susceptibility,” and how this “false prophet, who embellished sensuality in such a flattering manner” helped to drag the composer’s “soul down to the slough of moral degradation.”41
The illustrations that accompany Schnautze’s tale about Musa and the transformed youths are full of sexual innuendos. Clever wordplay clearly identifies Schubert and Schober as the frog and the carp. For example, such words as écossaise, Posaune, Flötentöne, and Genius are used in connection with the fat singing frog, while the carp is described with such terms as alles Reden (full of talk) and Krümmungen seines Schweifes (his crooked tail)—referring to Schober’s reputed eloquence and bowed legs. The mysterious appearance in the tale of an antagonist—the coach-driver “Sepperl” (the name is a diminutive of Josef)—is probably a reference to Josef Kupelwieser and his rivalry with Schober. In my opinion, many other words—some of which are associated with Schubert elsewhere in the newletters—point to the composer: Auge (eye), Zedernholz (cedar wood), Fuß (foot), Musik, Aqualine’s enticing singing “mit bezaubernder L
aubfroschstimme” (with a spell-binding tree frog voice), Stiefel (boot), ein dummer Spitzbub (a silly rascal), Zauberstab (magical stick), and so forth. And, the words Persian and Chinese in the subtitle of the tale “Fragment eines persischen Mährchens aus dem chinesischen übersetzt” (Fragment of a Persian Fairy Tale, Translated from the Chinese) point to the exotic lady’s man: Schober. Since wordplay was such a favorite pastime in the Schubert circle, in particular, the making up of poems or short stories on a set number of given words, I believe that Schubert’s later allegorical tale “My Dream” (1822) may have been written as part of such a game.42 Indeed, it is not hard to determine what might have been the given words, for example: Bruder, Vater, Liebe, Lustgelage, Speise, Schmerz, Tod, Leiche, Augen, Garten, Jungfrau, Seligkeit.
Schubert’s Friends
Franz Schubert is not, of course, the only person of interest in the pages of the Archiv des menschlichen Unsinns. We have already seen open allusions to two friends well known to Schubert research, Leopold Kupelwieser and Franz von Schober, but there are others whose presence in the composer’s life was previously unknown and who add to our picture of the Viennese cultural scene in sometimes surprising ways. Carl Friedrich Zimmermann, who had come to Vienna from Berlin in 1816 to study at the Art Academy and who roomed with August Kloeber, likewise from Berlin, painted the final group scene for the New Year’s Eve’s party in 1817, signed with his code name Aaron Bleistift.43 As mentioned, this image (Figure 1) shows Schubert in a brown suit next to two young women and the artist himself as a duel-fighting roughneck. Earlier in the evening, however, Zimmermann had worn a different costume and, in my opinion, had come disguised as Schubert (see Figure 8). This double portrait, painted by Kloeber, shows Aaron Bleistift on the left as a fine gentleman with curly hair, clad in a brown suit and peering through double glasses at Leopold Kupelwieser. A conspicuous handkerchief hangs from the gentleman’s suit tail—similar to the piece of linen wrapped around the tail of the fish with eyeglasses swimming toward the Rossau in the Windhosen map—and he wears exaggerated signet rings at his waist.