his published songs--including in
this number the 'Erl King' and the 'Wanderer'--for the sum of eight
hundred silver gulden (equal to eighty pounds sterling), and this in
face of the fact that more than eight hundred copies of the 'Erl King'
had already been sold![27]

Of his improvidence there is much that could be told; his inherent
good nature was never proof against imposition, and he gave away as
freely as he earned. Moreover, he was regarded by a certain set of his
friends as a Croesus, or, rather, as a never-failing coiner of
money, and two of these so-called friends were not ashamed to live
openly upon his easy-going, careless ways, under the pretence of
sharing the expenses of a joint lodging. The partnership, if such it
could be called where one was called upon to find the money, extended
even to articles of clothing--boots, hats, coats, cravats, etc., being
regarded as common property--whilst if one of the trio found himself
unable to pay his reckoning, it fell to the lot of the 'man of wealth'
to discharge his obligation. Needless to say, this friendly office was
cheerfully filled by Schubert for either or both of his companions.
Great was the jubilation when the composer brought back the news that
he had sold a piece of music. For the time being he was regarded by
the others as literally swimming in money, and expected to spend right
and left so long as it lasted, and then they would all go short until
the next piece of luck came along. One day, when the trio were in very
low water, Schubert and one of the others met at a small coffee-house
and surprised each other in the act of ordering coffee and biscuits,
because neither could summon from his pockets the requisite
amount--namely, eightpence halfpenny--wherewith to pay for a dinner!

But no amount of distress could check his capacity for work. Save
during the hours of sleep, his pen would seem never to have been idle;
even whilst talking to a friend who was waiting to take him for a
walk, he was jotting down at great speed one of his most beautiful
dramatic ballads, the 'Zwerg.' Another friend, Carl Umlauff, has
related how he used to go to Schubert's lodgings in the mornings, and
find him lying in bed jotting down musical ideas; at other times he
would be out of bed, clad in his dressing-gown, composing at his
standing-desk. Writing would go on till two o'clock. 'When I have done
one piece I begin the next,' was his own way of describing the
continuity