at point which we notice
about Schubert's life; we find him at one moment despairing, but at
the next his troubles appear to be forgotten, and he is immersed in
the writing of another song, another symphony, or another sonata, as
the case may be; but it is always work, work in the face of every
obstacle that fortune can throw in his way. 'His life is all summed up
in his music.' 'Music and music alone was to him all in all. It was
not his _principal_ mode of expression, it was his _only_ one; it
swallowed up every other. His afternoon walks, his evening amusements,
were all so many preparations for the creations of the following
morning.'[28] And so it continued until the end. The very last year of
his busy life, far from exhibiting any diminution of his powers, is
marked by the production of some of his very finest works.

It was not until the end of October, 1828, that the signs of serious
illness made themselves apparent in attacks of giddiness, accompanied
by a marked loss of strength. Schubert was at this time living with
his brother Ferdinand at the latter's house in the Neue Wieden
suburb--the house is now known as No. 6, Kettenbruecken Gasse--having
removed thither on the advice of his doctor for the sake of the fresh
air and the adjacent country. Although he rallied somewhat during the
first week of November, and was able to resume his walks and discuss
his plans for the future, the weakness increased, and on the 11th he
wrote to his friend Schober what was destined to be his last letter:

'DEAR SCHOBER,

'I am ill. I have eaten and drunk nothing for eleven days, and
I am so tired and shaky that I can only get from the bed to the
chair, and back. Rinna is attending me.... In this distressing
condition be so kind as to help me to some reading. Of Cooper's
I have read the "Last of the Mohicans," the "Spy," the "Pilot,"
and the "Pioneers." If you have anything else of his I entreat
you to leave it with Frau von Bogner at the Coffee-house. My
brother, who is conscientiousness itself, will bring it to me
in the most conscientious way. Or anything else. Your friend,

'SCHUBERT.'

On the 14th he took to his bed, but for two days more he was able to
sit up and correct the proofs of some of the songs in the
'Winterreise.' He grew rapidly weaker, however, and by the 17th he was
quite delirious. On the evening of the next day he call