A biographical memoir written in the early 20th century. It portrays the gifted yet self-effacing composer and kapellmeister Adolf Schreiber as he struggles with poverty, self-doubt, and the indifferent machinery of the theater world, even as his songs reveal a rare, individual voice. The portrait blends intimate reminiscence, critical appreciation, and letters to show how a principled, hypersensitive artist repeatedly thwarted his own chances for recognition. The opening of the memoir begins with Schreiber’s drowning at Wannsee and the author’s recollection of a failed 1913 public appeal to gain him performances. It depicts Schreiber’s extreme modesty and self-sabotage—his hostility to praise, his refusal of help—set against the narrator’s fervent advocacy of his songs (notably the Altenberg settings) and memories of their shared Prague youth, early musical enthusiasms, and Jewish background. The narrative then shows how lack of money trapped him in operetta posts across provincial stages, with rare opera chances yielding no lasting change, while contacts with publishers, singers, and even Humperdinck came to nothing. His style is sketched as simple yet original, with naive-seeming harmonic turns, illustrated through cycles after Morgenstern and Liliencron and marred by misfortunes like a bungled Berlin concert. The section closes with his marital separation, a draining love affair, the humiliation of being replaced at a premiere he prepared, and a friend’s letter recounting the days leading to his suicide and the theater’s callous aftermath.
