Title: Der Abend (The Evening) First line: Purpur malt die Tannenhugel Poet: Friedrich von Matthisson D-number: 108 Date: July 1814 Used recording: Daniel Norman, accompanied by Graham Johnson (The Hyperion Schubert Edition Vol. 33: The Young Schubert, Track 21, 3:00) Friedrich von Matthisson (1761 - 1831) would be forgotten by everyone except scholars of German literature if it wasn't for one poem - or better: for one Lied this poem got changed into: "Adelaide" by Beethoven. Matthisson was born near Magdeburg and had to make a living as a teacher (as so many German poets, e.g. Holderlin), then he accompanied the Duchess Luise von Anhalt-Dessau on journeys, spending sophistication and interesting chit-chat on cultural matters. He later worked as a theatre director and librarian in Stuttgart. In his time he was one of the best-loved German poets, Schiller and Wieland liked his classicistic poetry but the Romantiker (and we, their admirers) found much left to be desired about Matthisson's affected lines: "Purpur malt die Tannenhugel / Nach der Sonne Scheideblick" (The pine-covered hills are painted with purple after the sun's parting glance), the beginning of "Der Abend" is a striking example of florid fustian (and the English translation is much clearer than the original lines). The poem really is not good, the picture which is painted of nature in sunset is obviously not directly felt but an artistic construction (that's the main criticism by the Romantiker). What is the poem about? The sun sets on pines, poplars and a brook. All the birds fall asleep. Only the cricket goes on singing its mournful evening song. The narrator imagines that the cricket one day will sing its song over his early grave (Matthisson died 60 years old, so this, too, is invention and cliche). Then he will listen to it as he does now (with ghostly ears, I presume). - The scene reminds the reader of a carefully draped stage, all the props are there (the setting son, the purple sky, a brook, a poplar grove, a cricket, a rosebush symbolizing friendship, an early grave, a hill) for a tenderly decadent and slightly macabre summer night. All this, as Melville put it, "somehow mildly reminded him of his mortality". "Susse Trauermelodien" (sweet, mournful melodies) is what the cricket sings - and this is a good description for this maybe not great and very important, but definitely lovely Lied. Schubert's setting is much better than the Matthisson poem. I am a fan and a lover so my reaction may not be representative: but the very first notes touch me deeply like some kind of lullaby. Schubert's evocation of evening does not at all seem constructed and florid, it has, due to the flowing, gently dancing rhythm, the pleasant setting for the voice and a repeated descending arpeggio in the first three stanzas, something mildly melancholic (D minor, you see, does something to my system). Only stanza No. 4 interrupts the Traumerei since it is set as a recitative marking the idea of death. But the Lied instantly finds back to the melody of the first three stanzas thus showing that death is not the end: the narrator will listen to the cricket in eternity. The Lied ends with the same D-F-D tune (NOT the singer!) it began with: a perfect circle, the wonderful idea that death may be sad but that it is not the end. It is for Winterreise and Mullerin that I admire Schubert but it is for the enourmous amount of simple, unspectacular, humble but very touching Lieder like this that I love him. Daniel Norman's friendly tenor and Graham Johnson's unobtrusive piano do their best to help the listener come to this conclusion. Robert