Summary: <br> George Bizet (1838-1875) in 1875<br> <br> <br> <br> We mark the death of the French composer Georges Bizet, who passed from this vale of tears on June 3, 1875, 144 years ago today. He was but 36 years, 7 months, and 9 days young when he passed.<br> <br> <br> <br> The title for today’s post is the epitaph that appeared on Franz Schubert’s original tombstone, written by Franz Grillparzer (1791-1872): <br> <br> <br> <br> “Here music has buried a treasure, but even fairer hope.”<br> <br> <br> <br> Franz Grillparzer in 1841<br> <br> <br> <br> Ain’t that the truth. Schubert’s life-span was even shorter than Bizet’s: 31 years, 9 months, and 20 days. <br> <br> <br> <br> (Grillparzer was a Vienna-born dramatist who, despite his contemporary fame as a playwright, is best remembered today for having written Beethoven’s funeral oration and Schubert’s epitaph!)<br> <br> <br> <br> We contemplate “regret”.<br> <br> <br> <br> I am a collector of certain antique/vintage items, and I have learned the hard way the truism that “you only regret that which you do not buy.” For example, I will go to my grave regretting the fact that I walked away from a complete, pristine Sterling Silver Erik Magnussen “Skyscraper Cocktail Set” in 2003. <br> <br> <br> <br> Gorham silver cocktail set (1925-1929, designed by Erik Magnussen (1884-1961)<br> <br> <br> <br> I had my reasons (financial) for not buying the set at the time, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, never to be had again; should a like set come to market again, it will go for ten to twenty times the amount I could have bought it for. Dang. Double dang.<br> <br> <br> <br> I regret not having taken that plunge.<br> <br> <br> <br> (Yes, I know: this does not really qualify as a problem. I am, however, reflecting on the nature of “regret.”)<br> <br> <br> <br> As emotions go, on a scale of ten (one being grief; ten being euphoria), I would rank regret at about a four: a generally negative emotion that, nevertheless, is useful if it allows us to avoid a like mistake in the future.<br> <br> <br> <br> Back to the Music<br> <br> <br> <br> Back to Georges Bizet, Franz Schubert, and that gaggle of other great (or potentially great) composers who died before turning forty: Henry Purcell (dead at 36), Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (26), Wolfgang Mozart (35), Vincenzo Bellini (33), Frédéric Chopin (39), Felix Mendelssohn (38), Lili Boulanger (24), Juan Arriaga (19), and George Gershwin (who died at the age of 38). All of us should deeply regret their early passing, and find it well-nigh impossible not to reflect on what they might have accomplished had they at least lived for Beethoven’s life span (56 years), or Sebastian Bach’s (65 years), or Richard Strauss’ (85 years), or Elliott Carter’s (103 years) or Leo Ornstein’s (106 years!).<br> <br> <br> <br> Franz Schubert (1797-1828) in 1825<br> <br> <br> <br> I don’t know about you, but not only do I regret the early deaths of these composers, but I can’t help but feel regret over what they might have created had they lived longer lives. And while I would think that most of us feel the same way, I know that not everyone actually does. For example, apropos of Franz Schubert, Robert Schumann wrote back in the mid-nineteenth century that:<br> <br> <br> <br> “It is pointless to guess at what more Schubert might have achieved. He did enough; and let them be honored who have striven and accomplished as he did.” <br> <br> <br> <br> Rather more recently, the pianist András Schiff said that:<br> <br> <br> <br> “Schubert lived a very short life, but it was a very concentrated life. In 31 years, he lived more than other people would live in 100 years, and it is needless to speculate what could he have written had he lived another 50 years. It’s irrelevant,
