drawbacks, but one excellent side. His 'cousin,' as he termed Frankh,
was a strict but careful teacher, and under his care the boy not only
learned to sing well, but also acquired a good deal of knowledge
regarding the various musical instruments in use at that time. In
other respects, too, his education was looked after; and as his
quickness at learning was remarkable, and his cousin did not scruple
to employ physical force to enable his pupil to master his
difficulties, Joseph made rapid progress, despite the fact that he was
often flogged when he should have been fed. The strict discipline to
which he was subjected may not have been without its value in inducing
habits of method and order in the boy's studies; but in many ways his
life was rendered unnecessarily hard. The schoolmaster was a married
man, but his wife showed the utmost indifference towards the little
fellow who had hoped to find in her a second mother, but who found
instead that he was neglected in every way. Next to religion itself,
Mathias and Maria had instilled into their children a positive
reverence for personal cleanliness. Joseph's distress, therefore, at
finding himself bereft of a mother's care became greater day by day as
he saw the rents in his clothing passed over and the means of keeping
his body in the state to which he had been accustomed unprovided. What
this meant to a sensitive child with a rooted aversion to dirt may be
imagined; nor were his sufferings in any way reduced by the attention
which his destitute, neglected state drew upon him. Try as he might to
forget his misery in his books, he could not but be aware of the
pitying glances which were cast at him by those whom he encountered in
his walks, or who passed by as he sat reading on the step outside his
cousin's door.
Though ashamed of his appearance, Joseph was in no danger of losing
his self-respect--the love of cleanliness and order had been too
deeply implanted to be easily uprooted; moreover, his childish reason
whispered to him that the present state of things could not last for
ever, and in the meantime he bravely resolved to make the best of it.
He was receiving lessons on the clavier and violin, but the training
of his voice occupied the foremost place, and when not in school the
boy was nearly always to be found in the church, listening to the
organ or the singing. In a very short time he had made such progress
as to be admitted to the choir, where he joined his sweet young voice
in the singing of the Masses.
Already his mind was beginning to feed upon those higher branches of
music which his natural gifts enabled him to appreciate. His
reverential nature was strongly shown in regard to his music, and it
was in the church alone that he could obtain the gratification of a
sense which was surely leading him on to greater things. As the days
went by he was conscious of a yearning for something that his present
surroundings could not supply. His thoughts were constantly travelling
towards a city wherein he had centred his hopes, and where he knew he
should find his heart's desires. That city was Vienna. It was before
his eyes as he stood in the choir of Hainburg Church; it came between
him and his book as he sat in the schoolroom conning his lesson; it
was in his dreams as he slept, as it was foremost in his thoughts on
waking. But Vienna lay afar off; and looking down at his ragged
clothing, and reflecting upon the poverty that surrounded him, Joseph
wondered if it would ever be possible for him to realise his dream.
'Sepperl, come here; I want you.' It was his cousin Frankh's voice,
calling to him as he was leaving the schoolroom one morning. 'There is
to be a procession through the town next week, in honour of a
respected citizen who died yesterday. They have asked me to supply a
drummer, and I thought of you at once. Come, I will show you how to
make the stroke,' and, taking Joseph by the hand, he led him into the
yard where, having improvised a drum by turning a tub bottom
uppermost, Frankh placed a stick in the boy's hand and bade him beat
the time of a march. A few attempts sufficed to convince Frankh of his
pupil's proficiency, and Joseph was duly installed in the drummer's
place. Owing, however, to his small stature, it was found necessary to
call in the help of a schoolboy of his own height, and as this boy
happened to be a hunchback, he was enabled to carry the drums on his
back at the proper level for Joseph to beat them. The comical effect
thus produced proved too much for the gravity of many of the
bystanders, but Joseph went through his business with solemnity,
secretly deriving much pleasure from this public exhibition of his
skill, and thereafter he always retained an affection for the
instrument as well as a knowledge of how it should be played.[7]
Haydn had just completed the second year of his school life at
Hainburg, when an event happened which brought the realisation of his
dreams suddenly within his grasp. The Capellmeister of St. Stephen's
Cathedral, in Vienna, George Reutter, was paying a visit to his
friend, the pastor of Hainburg, and in the course of conversation he
mentioned that he was in want of some good voices for the cathedral
choir. 'Then I think I can find you one at least,' replied his friend;
'he is a scholar of Frankh's, the schoolmaster here, and possesses an
excellent voice. Shall we send for him?' Reutter agreed, and a message
was accordingly dispatched to Frankh.
In due course the schoolmaster appeared, leading Haydn by the hand,
and the pair were ushered into the presence of Reutter.
The Capellmeister eyed the boy kindly, and, drawing him to his knee,
said, 'Well, my little fellow, can you make a shake?'
Joseph looked up brightly. 'No, sir; but, then, no more can my cousin
Frankh here.'
Reutter laughed at this outspokenness, and then, telling Haydn to
attend to him, he proceeded to show him how the shake was to be
performed. After a few attempts Joseph succeeded in satisfying his
instructor, who praised him for his quickness. During the experiment
the boy's eyes had been fixed on a dish of cherries standing on the
pastor's table. Reutter, perceiving the longing thus silently
expressed, reached out his hand for the dish, and telling Joseph that
he had earned his reward, he emptied the contents into the boy's
pockets.
Haydn was next requested to sing a portion of a Mass which he knew by
heart, and when this trial was finished the Capellmeister expressed
his willingness to take him into the Cantorei of St. Stephen's.
The boy's heart leapt within him as he heard the words. It was so
unexpected; it seemed almost too good to be true! Then suddenly the
thought of his ragged clothing swept across his mind, and the tears
started to his eyes. Surely, they would never admit such an urchin as
he to the famous choir-school! Reutter, however, did not seem to heed
his untidy state, and Haydn took heart of hope that after all this
might be remedied. In the letter which he wrote to his parents, asking
for their consent, he included an appeal for money wherewith to
purchase new clothing. Mathias had a large family to support on his
slender earnings, but he contrived to send a few florins for the
purpose, and as both parents at the same time gave a willing assent to
his leaving Hainburg, Joseph felt that every obstacle to the
fulfilment of his happiness had now been removed. The parting with his
teacher, however, was not accomplished without some regrets, for,
after all, Frankh, despite his severity, had done well by his pupil,
and that pupil was not slow in expressing his gratitude for all that
he owed to his relative's instruction.
Possibly, if Joseph could have looked across the leagues which lay
between him and the city to which he was journeying with a power of
prophetic vision that enabled him to realise a portion of the future
that awaited him, he might have experienced some degree of misgiving.
But, happily for him, no cloud arose to obscure the sunny picture
which his imagination had drawn of the life that was opening before
him. Roseate, indeed, were the hues in which his fancy had painted
that picture, and foremost of all the objects that it contained was
the famous cathedral, with its magnificent spire pointing into the
clouds, its richly-sculptured stones, its glorious nave, flanked by
noble pillars, and its lofty vaulted roof, echoing to the voices of
the choir, or reverberating to the notes of the organ, the whole
flooded by the soft light falling from the painted windows. To picture
all this from the descriptions which had been given to him was to
conjure up a vision of indescribable beauty. And then, the Cantorei
itself--had not his cousin Frankh assured him that he would be taught
singing and to play the clavier and violin by the best masters, in
addition to Latin, writing, and cyphering? Lastly, there was the life
which went on outside the cathedral and the choir-school--the life of
a city within whose walls music had established a home, wherein she
flourished as nowhere else in the wide world could she be said to
flourish.
[Illustration: _St. Stephen's Cathedral, Vienna._]
All this, and more, had the eight-year-old musician learnt from
conversation and report during his two years' sojourn at Hainburg; and
of all this was he thinking as he travelled to Vienna with a heart and
mind yearning to enter into the joys and labours of such an existence.
With what fervour he embarked upon his studies at the Cantorei, as
well as how quickly he progressed under the care of his teachers, may
be imagined. Child though he was, nothing in the shape of learning
came hard to him, and difficulties seemed to be created only in order
to be successfully overcome. Very soon came the desire to compose; but
just here the toughest obstacle of all, perhaps, presented itself--the
studies comprised no instruction in counterpoint. Still, Joseph was
not to be daunted. Seizing upon every scrap of music-paper that he
could find, he covered it with notes. 'If only the paper is nice and
full, it must be right,' he said to himself, as he bent his energies
to the task.
Reutter, however, gave him no encouragement to proceed in this
direction. 'What are you about, Haydn?' inquired the Capellmeister
one day, as he lighted upon the boy suddenly in the midst of a
composition. Joseph looked up with a flush mantling in his cheeks. 'I
am composing, sir,' he answered. 'Let me see it,' requested the
master. It was a sketch of a 'Salve Regina' for twelve voices. Reutter
glanced at the work, and then tossed it back. 'Why don't you try to
write it for _two_ voices before attempting it in twelve?' was his
only comment, uttered in a sharp tone, in which sarcasm was too
plainly apparent. Joseph blushed deeper than before. 'Oh,' he said
simply; it was all he could say, for the master's sneer had struck
home. 'And if you must try your hand at composition,' continued
Reutter in a somewhat kinder tone than before, as he observed the
tears spring to the boy's eyes, 'let me advise you to write variations
on the motets and vespers which are played in the church.' With this
parting piece of counsel he passed on, leaving poor Haydn as much in
the dark as before with regard to how he ought to proceed. 'If only he
would instruct me in counterpoint, how I would thank him!' was the
thought uppermost in Joseph's mind, as he put his despised work out of
sight.
But no instruction in the art of composition was forthcoming from
either the Capellmeister or any of the teachers, and Haydn was thrown
back upon his own resources. He possessed the talent, however, as well
as the perseverance, and of neither of these qualifications could they
dispossess him, and so, taking to heart Reutter's well-meant
admonition, he set to work afresh. His resources in the shape of
pocket-money were almost nil, yet by dint of scraping and denying
himself he managed to save sufficient to purchase two volumes, upon
the outsides of which his eyes had often feasted as the books lay
temptingly displayed upon the shelf of the second-hand bookseller.
One of these works was Fux's 'Gradus ad Parnassum' (a treatise on
composition and counterpoint), and the other Mattheson's 'Vollkommene
Capellmeister' (the Complete Chapel-master).
[Illustration: '_He managed to save sufficient to purchase two
volumes._']
Precious indeed were these hardly-acquired volumes. Every moment that
could be snatched from schoolwork or choir-practice was devoted to
mastering the difficulties of the 'Gradus,' and in acquiring knowledge
concerning the high office which he had secretly set his heart upon
obtaining. There was unconscious humour in the fact that, following
upon Reutter's reproof to his over-ambitious strivings, the chorister
should have set himself to study the duties of his master's post. Yet
the temptation to smile is checked by the thought of the lonely
student giving up his play-hours to self-imposed study, battling in
grim earnest with problems that might well have turned the edge of a
determination less keen than that which was set to conquer them, and
battling thus unassisted and often, no doubt, against the craving for
food and fresh air which is inseparable from boyhood.
It would be wrong, however, to suppose that Haydn absented himself
wholly from his companions and their merry games. There was within him
a soul for play as well as for work, and there were occasions when the
spirit of mischief obtained the ascendancy. The choir was frequently
required to perform in the Royal Chapel when the Court was in
residence at Schönbrunn. The palace there had been newly erected, and
the workmen had not removed the scaffolding, a fact which was hailed
with delight by the choir-boys as affording an unlooked-for means of
relaxation. One after another climbed the poles, each striving to
outdo the rest in attaining the highest point. In vain did the Empress
Maria Theresa, who had perceived them from her windows, issue
prohibitions and threaten dire punishment to the offenders--the sport
went on unchecked. At length a moment arrived when Joseph, who had
beaten his companions by climbing to the top of the tallest pole, and
was daring them to come up to him, was detected by the Empress in the
very act. The Hofcompositor was sent for, and the figure of Haydn
rocking himself to and fro on the pole duly pointed out. 'Give that
fair-haired blockhead einen recenten Schilling' (slang for a 'good
hiding'); 'he is the ringleader of them all,' said the Empress. The
descent of Joseph from his elevated perch, and the descent of the
Hofcompositor's rod, were events which speedily followed the royal
command.
A love of fun formed an essential part of Haydn's nature, but music
came before anything else. Even when playing with his fellow-choristers
in the cathedral square he would break away from the game at the first
sound of the organ, and enter the church to listen. His desire to
perfect himself in music was so strong that to the ordinary hours of
study and practice he voluntarily added several more each day, with the
result that he was often working sixteen or eighteen hours out of the
twenty-four.
Five years had passed amidst these happy surroundings when Haydn awoke
one morning with the joyous thought that that day was to witness the
arrival of his younger brother Michael at the Cantorei. How eagerly he
had looked forward to this break in his life, with what zeal he had
planned how he was to assist Michael in his work, when he had smoothed
the young one's entry, helped him over his shyness, and shown him all
the delightful scenes and circumstances which his new life would
comprise. It had infused new vigour into his resolutions, and fired
him with fresh ardour for his own work, this coming of his brother to
share with him the pleasures which he had possessed for so long alone.
Joseph's unselfish and generous feelings may have helped to blind his
vision to the little cloud which, almost from the moment when
Michael's pure young treble notes first soared aloft into the
cathedral's vast recesses, had begun to shut out some of the sunshine
that had gladdened his own existence. Certain it is that he had no
inkling of the sorrow which his brother's advent was destined to bring
upon him. Michael's progress was remarkably rapid, and it was soon
apparent that Joseph's prospects were as surely declining. The voice
which hitherto had enabled him to hold the chief place in the choir
showed signs of breaking, and one after another of the solo parts
which formerly he alone had been selected to sing were assigned to the
new chorister. Joseph's failing powers were unmistakably betrayed when
he sang before the Court, and, though intended only as a joke, the
Empress's remark to Reutter that Haydn's singing had come to resemble
the crowing of a cock, sufficed to open the Capellmeister's eyes to
the fact that Joseph must be put back. Consequently, at the
celebration of St. Leopold in the presence of the Emperor and Empress,
the singing of the 'Salve Regina' fell to the lot of Michael, whose
rendering so entranced his royal hearers that they presented the young
chorister with a sum of twenty ducats.
To no one could it have been plainer than to poor Joseph himself that
the sun of his glory at St. Stephen's had set never to rise again. His
place was now virtually taken by the brother whose coming he had
welcomed, and the royal favours which heretofore had been allotted to
him were transferred to Michael for good. Mortified as he must have
felt at the slight thus accorded to him, Haydn cherished no feelings
of resentment towards the brother by whom he had been supplanted. He
had the good sense to attribute his misfortune to his failing voice
alone and to fall back upon the belief in his own powers to make his
way as a musician, which formed his one unfailing resource and comfort
during those darkening hours.
How long Haydn might have remained at the Cantorei, in spite of his
breaking voice, and the consequent lessening of his importance as a
member of the choir, cannot be told; but an incident which happened at
this period settled his future as far as St. Stephen's was concerned,
in a manner as summary as it was unexpected.
It is odd that Haydn's actual dismissal from the school must be laid
at the door of his love of fun, and that one who was so hard-working
and so wrapped up in his music should have been unable to resist the
temptation to play off a practical joke upon one of his colleagues
under the very eyes of the Capellmeister. Nevertheless, such was the
case, and a bright new pair of scissors, which had found their way
into his possession, was the means by which Joseph executed his joke,
and at the same time severed his connection with the Cantorei. It was
the fashion in those days for boys to wear pigtails, and Haydn's gaze
was one day riveted upon the movements of a pigtail belonging to the
chorister seated immediately in front of him. The pigtail was twitched
to and fro, or jerked up and down, in accordance with the movements of
its owner's head, with a vivacity which was at once fascinating and
exasperating to behold. The new scissors were being opened and closed
in Joseph's fingers--the itching to cut something was too strong to be
resisted--the tantalising pigtail was twitching under his very
nose--and the next moment, ere the owner of the scissors could realise
the crime he was committing, the once active pigtail lay as dead as
any doornail upon the floor.
The punishment meted out to Haydn for this offence was slight--a mere
caning on the hand; but the indignity and disgrace of being caned
before the whole school was not to be borne. He pleaded for
forgiveness: 'Rather than submit to such a disgrace he would leave the
school.' Reutter had for long been seeking an excuse for turning the
lad adrift; a chorister without a voice was useless to him, and here
was his chance. 'You must take your caning first, and then you shall
have your dismissal,' he said, with cruel meaning in his tone, for he
knew Haydn's spirit.
Joseph underwent the disgrace, and then, whilst the physical pain of
it yet lingered, he packed up his two precious volumes, placed the
remainder of his belongings on his brother's bed, and choking back the
rage that was almost suffocating him, he walked quickly out of the
building into the street.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The tantalising pigtail._']
Having thus related the manner in which our hero was launched upon the
sea of adversity, without means of subsistence, and with no better
companion in his misery than the wrath aroused by the sense of his
harsh and unjust treatment, we must return to the point at which we
left him stretched beside the stove in Spangler's garret. At the same
time we desire to correct an impression which the reader may have
formed from the opening portion of our story that, at the moment of
his chancing upon this friend in need, Joseph was longing to return to
the comfortable quarters which he had quitted in such fiery haste.
Such an impression would be far from representing the true state of
Haydn's feelings at the time. He had, indeed, hoped to encounter
Michael--to speak a word with him, to beg of him, in fact, a crust of
bread; but his heart failed him when he saw his brother amongst his
companions, and pride stepped in as well to prevent him from exposing
his distress to so many curious eyes. Thus far he had yielded to the
promptings of hunger, but his resolution not to re-enter the school
had stood firm, in spite of the cravings of nature, in spite of his
friendless position, in spite of the long dreary vista of want which
the past eight-and-forty hours had opened to his eyes. He had acted
upon the impulse of the moment, but the bitterness of the cause which
prompted that action remained--nay, more, it was already acting like a
tonic upon a nature disciplined to look difficulties bravely in the
face. Those few hours of sound sleep put new life into his frame, and
when he awoke it was with the resolve to refrain from any further
attempt to see his brother, lest his desperate condition should
unsettle the younger one and render him unhappy. It would be a hard,
uphill fight, but he would fight it alone--not even his parents should
hear of him again unless he succeeded.
'Now, Joseph, what do you propose to do?' was the inquiry of his host,
when the morning fast had been broken by a porringer of
bread-and-milk. 'Have you made up your mind to go back to the school?
or will you send word to your people that you intend to return home?'
'I will never go back to the school,' answered Joseph firmly, 'and as
for going home, that is even further from my intentions than the
other.' And then he told his friend of the poverty which reigned at
home in consequence of the large and growing family, and the disgrace
which he should feel in casting himself as a burden upon those he
loved, especially after what had occurred. 'Sooner than do that,' he
exclaimed, 'I would rather starve in the streets. But, indeed, I
believe it will not be so bad as that; I have made up my mind to
support myself by music, and _I will never give in!_'
Now Spangler, albeit a man of humble attainments, and a being,
moreover, who had set no very high ideals before his eyes, was not, as
we have seen, destitute of the quality of sympathy, nor could he
entirely obliterate from his memory a time when he himself had been
fired by a spark of ambition, and had recognised a longing to
accomplish something great. True, the spark had been but a feeble one
at best, and the unceasing demands upon his powers to supply the bare
necessaries of life, occasioned by an early and imprudent marriage,
had done their best to crush it out of existence. Nevertheless, the
memory of that time remained, and being freshly stirred by the
contemplation of his young friend's forlorn state, it united itself
with the stronger germ of sympathy, and blossomed out into a generous
proposal that Haydn should continue to occupy a corner of his garret
until such time as he could obtain employment.
Haydn gratefully accepted the kindly offer, assuring Spangler that he
would repay his hospitality both in money and thanks. He gave this
assurance in the belief that its fulfilment could only be a question
of a short time. But many weary months, spent in fruitless
applications for employment and equally futile endeavours to secure
pupils, were destined to pass ere the first vestiges of success made
themselves apparent. Haydn was now seventeen, and possessed of the
appetite of a schoolboy; how to satisfy his natural cravings,
therefore, must have been almost as difficult a problem as that of
obtaining work. The rigours of an Austrian winter, too, added not a
little to his miseries, ill-fed and thinly clad as he was, but still
he struggled on, hopeful that the advent of spring would bring good
luck with the sunshine.