It was during Beethoven's last illness in 1827 that he first came to know Schubert. Beethoven's friend and biographer Schindler brought him a parcel of Schubert's songs, including the "Schöne Müllerin" group, "Die junge Nonne," and others. Beethoven's astonishment and admiration knew no bounds. He studied the songs with most profound interest, declared that their composer was destined to become a great power in the world, and expressed deep regret that he had not known more about him. Scarcely a day passed without his reverting to the subject, and it must of course have been this that led Schubert to visit him twice. On the first occasion there was some affectionate talk between them; on the second the dying man was no longer able to speak, but only made some unintelligible signs, and Schubert went away bowed down with grief. At the funeral he was one of the torch-bearers, and on the way home from the graveyard he stopped with Lachner and another friend at the Mehlgrube tavern, and they drank a glass of wine to the memory of the mighty master who had left them. Then Schubert proposed a second glass to that one of themselves who should be the first to follow. It was to be himself, and very soon. [Illustration: VIEW IN CEMETERY AT VIENNA, SHOWING TOMBS OF BEETHOVEN, MOZART AND SCHUBERT. From a photograph.] An instance of the rapidly growing interest in his music was furnished by the success of a private concert which he gave for his own benefit early in 1828. The programme consisted entirely of his own compositions, the audience was large and enthusiastic, and the sum, equivalent to one hundred and sixty dollars, which that evening brought him, must have given him an unwonted sense of wealth. It was his first and last concert of this sort. For creative work this last year of his life was the most wonderful, and indeed it would be difficult to cite from the whole history of music a parallel to it. The one orchestral work was the colossal tenth symphony in C major, which showed so unmistakably upon whose shoulders the mantle of the dead master had fallen, that it used sometimes to be called "Beethoven's tenth symphony." But there is no imitation of Beethoven or any other master in this work; it is as individually and intensely Schubertian as the Erl King. It was first performed in Vienna about a month after its composer's death, but its technical difficulties caused it to lie neglected and forgotten until 1838, when Robert Schumann carried the score to Leipsic and studied it with Mendelssohn; and it was again given to the world, under Mendelssohn's direction, in the following year. Since then it has been one of the best known and most thoroughly loved of all the symphonies written since Beethoven's, and it ranks undoubtedly among the foremost ten or twelve orchestral masterpieces of the world.