Schubert's death - Impromptu Op 90-4

Shortly after finishing the composition of the Impromptus, in late 1827, Franz Schubert's health worsened. In search of relief for his lungs, in the summer of 1828, he moved to the home of his brother Ferdinand, on the outskirts of Vienna.
His health was already very resentful, however, he was encouraged to make plans for the future and decided to perfect his musical knowledge by taking classes of harmony and composition with a famous teacher, in order to learn the technique of the fugue and counterpoint. He could only attend one class, that of November 4.

In those days, he contracted typhus. His doctor, very clever by the way, forbade him to eat (the medicine of the time killed many artists with the same method). He got even worse.
In his last days, he received almost no visits, for fear of contagion, and was accompanied only by his brother Fernando. His friends learned of his death during a friend's wedding celebration.

According to his wishes, little Franz was buried near Beethoven, in the Währing Cemetery. In 1888, the city of Vienna moved the remains of both musicians to the Central Cemetery, in what has been dubbed the "Pantheon of musicians."

With a feeling of regret for the loss of masterpieces caused by his early death, Franz's epitaph reads:

"The art of music has here interred
a precious treasure,
but yet far fairer hopes" 

"Here rests Franz Schubert
born on January 31, 1797
died on November 19, 1828
at the age of 31"

Impromptu N ° 4 Opus 90
The last of impromptus of Opus 90 is an Allegretto in A-flat minor/major, with an A-B-A form. At the start, we can hear a cascading sixteenth notes arpeggios. Later, Schubert inserts a delightfully swinging melody into the upper voice of the left hand. Section B is more lyrical, at 2:20.

The rendition is by the South Korean pianist, Dong-Min Lim.

Schubert: Impromptus Op 90 (2 - 3)

Franz Schubert composed eight impromptus in 1827, but only two of them were published in the composer's lifetime: the first two of Opus 90. The remaining and the four of Opus 142 only saw the public light in 1857, thirty years after its composition. The Impromptu No. 2 of Opus 90, which we are now listening to, is part, together with No. 1, of that pair of impromptus that Schubert was able to see published.

It has been wanted to see in it a study, or the germ, of those that will come later from the hand of Chopin and Liszt (at the time, 17 and 16 years, respectively). The laborious task entrusted to the right hand supports this proposal. A very careful while lively articulation becomes essential to make this almost endless series of triplets in tempo allegro sound perfectly clear.

The rendition is by Grigory Sokolov.

Despite his frail health, Schubert's last year of life was prodigal in compositions, but this was not reflected in an improvement in his economic situation, mainly due to the stinginess of his editors. Even in 1821, when Franz's name already appeared in the newspapers and his "light" works were heard in the salons of the high aristocracy, the publishers were reluctant to publish his work. And to show something, when a group of Schubert's friends addressed to the editor Peters, in Leipzig, requesting him to publish certain pieces of Franz, he responded by pointing out:

"My effort goes to the already established artists, with whom I can earn more money ... the mission of revealing new talents is for another. The day the composer has made a name and his works are recognized, I will be the man who seek, because in this case, the publication of his works will come into my plans."
Nothing new under the sun.

The Impromptu 90-3 is undoubtedly the most beautiful in the series, as well as the most cherished by the audience and also by the pianists, because of its tender and serene singing, commissioned to the right hand that makes a "self-accompanying" with broken arpeggios in permanent mute so as not to turn off the melody. The left hand makes "trills" in the bass, when Franz deemed them necessary.

The rendition is by the Russian pianist Olga Jegunova.

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Schubert: Impromptu No 1, Op 90

Little Franz Peter Schubert was never able to recover from the low glamour disease (as opposed to tuberculosis) he contracted around 1823: syphilis, a somewhat shameful disease and with no cure at the time. By 1827 he had already suffered several relapses; one of them, shortly after visiting Beethoven that year in his dying bed, whom he revered with all his soul and heart but barely knew.
For more than twenty years, both musicians lived in the same city, Vienna, Schubert's hometown, and the one Beethoven adopted. But they never became close because they would frequent very different social circles.

Franz Schubert (1797 - 1828)

Beethoven's death was a serious blow to Franz and it accentuated the depression that would accompany him the last years of his life. The courageous, jovial and sociable Franz in his twenties became sullen and withdrawn at thirty (almost the crossing of Ludwig due to deafness). However, this did not prevent him from working hard at the end of 1827, perhaps in an attempt to fight the depression. The Trios for piano and string, the Musical Moments and the Impromptus are from that time.

The name "impromptu" is a suggestion of his editor. Schubert was not the first to use it, although it can be said that he owes the boom it acquired in the romantic period. Impromptus are short pieces, formally close to Chopin's nocturnes, with a deep musicality along with a certain drama despite belonging to a musical language full of grace and charm.

Schubert's Impromptus are a series of eight pieces, divided into two groups of four, Opus 90 and Opus 142 (also named D. 899 and D. 935, respectively; the D recognizes the work of Otto Erich Deutsch, who managed to summarize all of Schubert's work in 1950).

Impromptu No. 1, from Opus 90, in C minor, is presented here in the rendition of  Chinese-American pianist Eric Lu.

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Vivaldi: Summer, from The Four Seasons

Ordained a priest in 1703, "the red priest" Antonio Vivaldi, 25 years old, began that same year his fruitful relations with the Ospedale della Pietà, in Venice, an institution to which he would remain connected, with greater or lesser intensity, during almost 36 years. Appointed at the beginning as "maestro di violino", a couple of years later he assumes the position of "maestro di concerto", which gives him virtually the direction of the Conservatory.

By those years, Venice had four conservatories for women. The most important was the Ospedale della Pietá. A contemporary scholar, Charles de Brosses, writes in his Lettres d'Italie:"The best places to listen to music in this city are the Ospedali, there are four nowadays, all of them for orphaned girls or illegitimate daughters, or indigents, they are brought here at the State's expense and educated exclusively in music..."

So, with a total of almost a thousand girls staying, Vivaldi could choose at will to provide, at the beginning of the 18th century, an orchestra of 70 or 100 members, which according to De Brosses, apart from singing as angels "touch the violin, flute, cello or organ ... with unparalleled grace and precision."

The Four Seasons - Summer
In his series of concertos published in 1724 with the title Il cimento dell armonia e dell'invenzione, (The Contest between Harmony and Invention) maestro Vivaldi would use for the first time in the whole of his work, the imitation of nature, leitmotif of the Illuminist culture. Undeniable proof of this are the first four concerts of Il Cimento..., universally known as The Four Seasons.

Following, the Concerto No. 2, in G minor, subtitled "Summer", in the Trondheim Soloist rendition. On the solo violin, the Norwegian artist Mari Silje Samuelsen.

Movements:
00:00  Allegro non molto
06:06  Adagio
08:12  Presto.

Chopin: Polonaise No 1, Opus 26

130 kilometers north of Prague, the town known as Karlsbad was already famous in the 19th century for its numerous hot springs. Today it is part of the Czech Republic. Its original name is Karlovy Vary and it has turned into a spa town that every summer receives the visit of many celebrities.
It was there where, for three weeks in August and September 1835, Chopin was with his parents for the last time. Frédéric traveled from Paris and his parents from Warsaw, to meet again after a separation of five years.

A recent biographer of Frédéric tells us that they arrived almost simultaneously in mid-August, staying at the hotel The Golden Rose, where they were received by some old friends, Polish exiles living in the area, with whom they will spend time until September 6 when they traveled to Teplitz for a few days to then visit the counts Thun-Hohenstein in his castle, from where finally Nicholas Chopin and Justina will leave for Warsaw on the 14th of that month. Frédéric will stay one more week with the Thun-Hohenstein, before returning to Paris, where he had been living since 1831.
The biographer points out that in those three weeks Frédéric composed a mazurka, the waltz opus 34 N° 1 and the Polonaise N° 1 from Opus 26. (We heard the latter in the rendition by the Ukrainian pianist Valentina Lisitsa).

Our biographer also points out that during those three weeks, in addition to composing, Frédéric livened up the evenings by playing the piano for his parents and friends. At this point, Dorie, a great friend of this blog has raised a disturbing question: on what piano did Chopin compose and play during that stay?

It is natural to assume that the works may have been created in the house of the Polish friends, perhaps in Teplitz, in the Hohenstein castle, who knows. It may be, says my friend, skeptical. I want to believe, she continues, that if today many hotels admit a piano in the lobby it is because an old tradition so dictates. The hotel The Golden Rose was a pioneer, she says: the upright piano, somewhat out of tune, was in a small and rustic dining room adjoining the reception room. On that piano, Frédéric improvised in the mornings, and in the evenings he played for those who were present there.

Fortunate circumstance – my friend finished off –, that of those guests who happened to meet Chopin in those days and who, during the dinner, could hear pieces of virgin music emerged from the hands of a pale and thin youth, who after playing, smiled at them as if he had not done anything to write home about.

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