and found in Franz Schubert a noble object for the exercise of
his generous patronage. He was almost a boy (only nineteen), except in
the prodigious development of his genius, when he entered the Esterhazy
family as teacher of music, though always treated as a dear and familiar
friend. During the summer months, Schubert went with the Esterhazy s to
their country-seat at Zelesz, in Hungary. Here, amid beautiful scenery,
and the sweetness of a social life perfect of its kind, our poet's life
flew on rapid wings, the one bright, green spot of unalloyed happiness,
for the dream was delicious while it lasted. Here, too, his musical
life gathered a fresh inspiration, since he became acquainted with the
treasures of the national Hungarian music, with its weird, wild rhythms
and striking melodies. He borrowed the motives of many of his most
characteristic songs from these reminiscences of hut and hall, for
the Esterhazys were royal in their hospitality, and exercised a wide
patriarchal sway.

The beautiful Countess Caroline, an enthusiastic girl of great beauty,
became the object of a romantic passion. A young, inexperienced maiden,
full of _naive_ sweetness, the finest flower of the haughty Austrian
caste, she stood at an infinite distance from Schubert, while she
treated him with childlike confidence and fondness, laughing at his
eccentricities, and worshiping his genius, lie bowed before this idol,
and poured out all the incense of his heart. Schubert's exterior was
anything but that of the ideal lover. Rude, unshapely features, thick
nose, coarse, protruding mouth, and a shambling, awkward figure, were
redeemed only by eyes of uncommon splendor and depth, aflame with the
unmistakable light of the soul.

The inexperienced maiden hardly understood the devotion of the artist,
which found expression in a thousand ways peculiar to himself. Only
once he was on the verge of a full revelation. She asked him why he
had dedicated nothing to her. With abrupt, passionate intensity of tone
Schubert answered, "What's the use of that? Everything belongs to you!"
This brink of confession seems to have frightened him, for it is said
that after this he threw much more reserve about his intercourse with
the family, till it was broken off. Hints in his letters, and the deep
despondency which increased after this, indicate, however, that the
humbly-born genius never forgot his beautiful dream.

He continued to pour out in careless profusion s