[Illustration: JOSEPH HAYDN.]
_BIOGRAPHIES OF MUSICIANS._
LIFE OF HAYDN
BY
LOUIS NOHL.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
GEORGE P. UPTON.
“_Heart and Soul must be free._”
CHICAGO:
JANSEN, McCLURG, & COMPANY.
1883.
COPYRIGHT,
BY JANSEN, MCCLURG, & CO.
A. D. 1882.
STEREOTYPED, AND PRINTED
BY
THE CHICAGO LEGAL NEWS COMPANY.
INTRODUCTION.
The abridged Life of Haydn, by Dr. Nohl, prepared originally as a
contribution to a series of biographies, which is issued in popular
form in Germany, is so simple in its narrative, that it would hardly
need an introduction, were its subject-matter confined to the record
of Haydn’s life, with its many musical triumphs, or to the portraiture
of this genial, child-like and lovable master. The trials and troubles
of his youth, their intensification in his married life, his marvelous
musical progress, his seclusion at Eisenstadt, his visits to London
and his introduction to its gay world in his old age, followed by
such wonderful musical triumphs, make a story of extraordinary
personal interest, which the author has heightened with numerous
anecdotes, illustrating his rare sweetness and geniality. There are
many discursions, however, in the work, in which Dr. Nohl analyzes the
component parts of Haydn’s musical creations, and traces the effect of
his predecessors as well as of his cotemporaries upon his development
as an artist. To understand these, it must be remembered that the
author deals with music from a philosophical standpoint, choosing
Schopenhauer for his authority, the philosopher whom Wagner admires
so much, and who makes the Will the basis of all phenomena. Applied
in a musical sense therefore, music is not a matter of sweet sounds,
whether melody or harmony, nor is its principal office the creation
of pleasure by these sounds, but it is the chief agent of the Will
in giving expression to its impulses. What this theory is, has been
stated by Richard Wagner himself in his “Essay on Beethoven,” in the
following words: “The mere element of music, as an idea of the world,
is not beheld by us, but felt instead, in the depths of consciousness,
and we understand that idea to be an immediate revelation of the
unity of the Will, which, proceeding from the unity of human nature,
incontrovertibly exhibits itself to our consciousness, as unity with
universal nature also, which indeed we likewise perceive through
sound.” The definition will afford a clue to some of the author’s
statements, and may help to make clearer some of his musical analyses.
The rest of the work may safely be left to the reader. It is the record
of the life not only of a great musician, but of a lovable man, who is
known to this day among his own people, though almost a century has
elapsed since his death, by the endearing appellation of “Papa.”
G. P. U.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
HIS YOUTH AND EARLY STUDIES.
Haydn’s Birth and Family--His Early Talent--First Studies with
Frankh--Chapel-boy at St. Stephens’--Ruetter’s
Instructions--Early Compositions--His Mischievous Tricks and
Dismissal--Anecdote of Maria Theresa--Acquaintance with
Metastasio--Influence of Philip Emanuel Bach--The Origin of
his First Opera, “The Devil on Two Sticks.” 7-39
CHAPTER II.
AT PRINCE ESTERHAZY’S.
Haydn’s Studies with Porpora--His Italian Operas--Engagement
with Count Von Morzin--His First String Quartet--An
Unfortunate Marriage--Domestic Troubles without
End--Appointment as Capellmeister at Esterhaz--His Orchestra
and Chorus--Rapid Musical Progress--His Most Important
Earlier Compositions--Development of the Quartet--Personal
Characteristics and Anecdotes--The Surprise
Symphony--Influence of his Life at Esterhaz upon his Music. 40-89
CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST LONDON JOURNEY.
A Winter Adventure--The Relations of Mozart and Haydn--Mozart’s
Dedication--The Emperor Joseph’s Opinions--Letters to Frau
Von Genzinger--A Catalogue of Complaints--His Engagement
with Salomon--The London Journey--Scenes on the Way--A
Brilliant Reception--Rivalry of the Professional
Concerts--The Händel Festival--Honors at Oxford--Pleyel’s
Arrival--Royal Honors--His Benefit Concert--Return to
Vienna. 90-135
CHAPTER IV.
THE EMPEROR’S HYMN--THE CREATION AND THE SEASONS.
Criticisms at Home--His Relations to Beethoven--Jealousy of
the Great Mogul--His Second London Journey--The Military
Symphony--His Longings for Home--Great Popularity In
England--Reception by the Royal Family--His Gifts--Return
to Vienna--Origin of the Emperor’s Hymn--The Creation and
the Seasons--Personal Characteristic--His Death--Haydn’s
Place in Music. 136-195
THE LIFE OF HAYDN.
CHAPTER I.
1732-1753.
HIS YOUTH AND EARLY STUDIES.
Haydn’s Birth and Family--His Early Talent--First Studies with
Frankh--Chapel-boy at St. Stephen’s--Reutter’s Instructions--Early
Compositions--His Mischievous Tricks and Dismissal--Anecdote of
Maria Theresa--Acquaintance with Metastasio--Influence of Philip
Emanuel Bach--The Origin of his First Opera, “The Devil on Two
Sticks.”
“See, my dear Hummel, the house in which Haydn was born; to think that
so great a man should have first seen the light in a peasant’s wretched
cottage.” Such were the words of Beethoven, upon his death-bed in 1827,
as he spoke of the father of the symphony and quartet, both of which he
himself brought to their highest perfection.
Joseph Haydn was born March 31, 1732, at the market-town of Rohrau,
near Bruck, on the river Leitha, which at that point separates Lower
Austria from Hungary. The little place belonged to the Counts Harrach,
who erected a memorial to his honor in their park upon his return from
his London triumphs in 1795.
Haydn’s father was a wheelwright, and the craft had long been
followed by the family. He had traveled as a master-workman, and in
his wanderings had been, it is said, as far as Frankfort-on-Main.
His marriage was blessed with twelve children, six of whom died very
young. They were brought up religiously in the Catholic faith, and as
they were poor, they were also accustomed to economy and industry. In
his old age, Haydn said: “My parents were so strict in their lessons
of neatness and order, even in my earliest youth, that at last these
habits became a second nature.” His mother watched over him most
tenderly, but his father alone lived to enjoy the recompense of such
care, when his son was installed as Capellmeister. The manner in which
he remembered his mother’s grave many years later in his will reveals
the strength of her influence.
His father, who was “by nature a great lover of music,” had a fair
tenor voice, and during his travels accompanied himself on the
harp without knowing a note. After the day’s toil, the family sang
together, and even when an old man, Haydn recalled with much emotion
these musical pleasures of his boyhood. The little “Sepperl,” as he
was called, astonished them all with the correctness of his ear and
the sweetness of his voice, and always sang his short simple pieces to
his father in a correct manner. More than this, he closely imitated
the handling of a violin-bow with a little stick, and upon one such
occasion a relative, from the neighborhood, observed the remarkable
feeling for strict tone and time, in the five-year-old boy. This
relative, who was the schoolmaster and choir-leader in the neighboring
town of Hainburg, took the lad, who was intended for the priesthood,
to that place, that he might study the art which it was thought would
undoubtedly open a way to the accomplishment of this purpose. After
this, Haydn only returned home as a visitor, but that he remembered
it and his poor relatives all his life with esteem and affection,
is evidenced by this remark in his old age: “I live not so much for
myself as for my poor relatives to whom I would leave something after
my death.” His “Biographical Notices” say he was so little ashamed
of his humble origin that he often spoke of it himself. In his will,
he remembers the parish priest and schoolteacher as well as the poor
children of his humble birth-place. In 1795, when he revisited it,
upon the occasion of the dedication of the Harrach memorial, before
alluded to, he knelt down in the familiar old sitting-room, kissed
its threshold, and pointed out the settle where he had once displayed
in sport that childish musical skill which was the indication of his
subsequent grand artistic career. “The young may learn from my example
that something may come out of nothing; what I am is entirely the
result of the most pressing necessity,” he once said, as he recalled
his humble antecedents.
In Hainburg, Haydn learned the musical rudiments and studied other
branches necessary to youth, with his cousin Matthias Frankh. In an
autobiographical sketch, about the year 1776, which may be found in the
“_Musikerbriefe_” (Leipsic, 1873, second edition), he says: “Almighty
God, to whom I give thanks for all His unnumbered mercies, bestowed
upon me such musical facility that even in my sixth year I sang with
confidence several masses in the church choir, and could play a little
on the piano and violin.” Besides this, he learned there the nature
of all the ordinary instruments, and could play upon most of them. “I
thank this man, even in his grave, for making me work so hard, though
I used to get more blows than food,” runs one of his later humorous
confessions. Unfortunately, the latter complaint corresponded to
the rest of his treatment in his cousin’s house. “I could not help
observing, much to my distress, that I was getting very dirty, and
though I was quite vain of my person, I could not always prevent the
spots upon my clothes from showing, of which I was greatly ashamed--in
fact, I was a little urchin,” he says at another time. Even at that
time he wore a wig, “for the sake of cleanliness,” without which it is
almost impossible to imagine “Papa Haydn.”
Of the style of musical instruction in Hainburg, we have at least one
example. It was in Passion week, a time of numerous processions. Frankh
was in great trouble, owing to the death of his kettle-drummer, but
espying little “Sepperl,” he bethought himself that he could quickly
learn. He showed him how to play and then left him. The lad took a
basket, such as the peasants use for holding flour in their baking,
covered it over with a cloth, placed it upon a finely upholstered
chair, and drummed away with so much spirit that he did not observe
the flour had sifted out and ruined the chair. He was reprimanded, as
usual, but his teacher’s wrath was appeased when he noticed how quickly
Joseph had become a skillful drummer. As he was at that time very short
in stature, he could not reach up to the man who had been accustomed
to carry the drum, which necessitated the employment of a smaller man,
and, as unfortunately he was a hunchback, it excited much laughter in
the procession. But Haydn in this manner gained a thoroughly practical
knowledge of the instrument and, as is well known, the drum-parts in
his symphonies are of special importance. He was the first to give
to this instrument a thorough individuality and a separate artistic
purpose in instrumental music. He was very proud of his skill, and,
as we shall see farther on, his ideas were of great assistance to a
kettle-drummer in London.
This first practical result convinced his teacher that Haydn was
destined for a musical career. His systematic industry was universally
praised, and his agreeable voice was his best personal recommendation.
The result was, that after two years of study he went to Vienna, under
happy, we may even say the happiest, of auspices.
The Hainburg pastor was a warm friend of Hofcapellmeister Reutter. It
happened that the latter, journeying from Vienna on business, passed
through Hainburg and made the pastor a short visit. During his stay he
mentioned the purpose of his journey, namely, the engagement of boys
with sufficient talent as well as good voices for choir service. The
pastor at once thought of Joseph. Reutter desired to see this clever
lad. He made his appearance. Reutter said to him: “Can you trill, my
little man?” Joseph, thinking perhaps that he ought not to know more
than people above him, replied to the question: “My teacher even can
not do that.” “Look here,” said Reutter, “I will trill for you. Pay
attention and see how I do it.” He had scarcely finished, when Haydn
stood before him with the utmost confidence and after two attempts
trilled so perfectly that Reutter in astonishment cried out, “bravo,”
drew out of his pocket a seventeen-kreuzer piece, and presented it to
the little virtuoso. This incident is related by Dies, the painter, who
was intimate with Haydn from 1805 until his death, and who published in
1810 the very interesting “Biographical Notices” of him.
The little fellow meanwhile devoted himself to vocal practice until his
eighth year, when he was to enter the chapel, for the Hofcapellmeister
had made this stipulation when he promised the father to advance his
son. As he could find no teacher who was versed in the rules, he
studied by himself, and following the natural method, learned to sing
the scales and made such rapid progress that when he went to Vienna,
Reutter was astonished at his facility.
The chapel was that of St. Stephen. In addition to frequent religious
services, the boys were also obliged to work at various kinds of
outside labor, so that their musical improvement was considerably
hindered. In spite of this, Haydn says that besides his vocal
practice, he studied the piano and violin with very good masters, and
received much praise for his singing, both at church and court. The
general course of studies included only the scantiest instruction in
religion, writing, ciphering and Latin; and art, the most important
of all to him, was so much worse off that at last he became his
own teacher again. Reutter troubled himself very little about his
chapel-scholars, and was a very imperious master besides; “and yet,”
said Haydn afterward, “I was not a complete master of any instrument,
but I knew the quality and action of all. I was no mean pianist and
singer, and could play violin concertos.” Singing chiefly occupied his
time and strength, for he contended that a German instrumental composer
must first master vocal study in order to write melodies. He considered
this all his life as of the greatest importance and often complained
because so few composers understood it. Among all the results of his
youthful artistic training, secured in his ten years’ chapel service
in Vienna, these two were the most important. He continually heard _a
capella_, that is, pure choral music with its contrapuntal texture,
and also learned all forms of solo singing and instrumental music, and
so thoroughly also that he was at home in all of them. And yet, “honest
Reutter” had only given him two lessons in musical theory!
Dies relates other characteristic anecdotes of his youthful time.
Notwithstanding his advancement had been neglected, Joseph was
contented with his position, and for this reason only, that Reutter was
so delighted with his talent that he told his father if he had twelve
sons he would take care of all of them. Two of his brothers indeed
came to the chapel, one of them Michael Haydn, afterward Capellmeister
at Salzburg, with whom Mozart’s biography has made us acquainted, and
Joseph had the “infinite pleasure” of being compelled to instruct
them. Even under such circumstances, he busily occupied himself with
composition. Every piece of paper that came into his hands he covered
with staves, though with much trouble, and stuck them full of notes,
for he imagined it was all right if he only had his paper full. At one
time Reutter surprised him just at the moment when he had stretched
out before him a paper more than a yard long, with a _Salve Regina_ for
twelve voices, sketched upon it. “Ha! what are you doing, my little
fellow?” said he. But when he saw the long paper he laughed heartily
at the plentiful rows of _Salves_, and still more at the ridiculous
idea of a boy writing for twelve voices, and exclaimed: “O, you silly
youngster! are not two voices sufficient for you?” These curt rebuffs
were profitable to Haydn. Reutter advised him to write variations to
his own liking upon the pieces he heard in church, and this practice
gave him fresh and original ideas which Reutter corrected. “I certainly
had talent, and by dint of hard work I managed to get on. When my
comrades were at their sports, I went to my own room, where there was
no danger of disturbance, and practiced,” says Haydn.
Dies, speaking further of this time in Haydn’s youth, says: “I must
guess at many details, for Haydn always spoke of his teacher with a
reserve and respect which did honor to his heart”--feelings all the
more to his credit when we consider the following statements, from the
same authority: “What was very embarrassing to him and at his age must
have been painful, was the fact that it looked as if they were trying
to starve him, soul and body. Joseph’s stomach observed a perpetual
fast. He went to the occasional ‘academies,’ where refreshments were
provided as compensation for the choir-boys, and once having made this
valuable discovery, his propensity to attend was irresistible. He tried
to sing as beautifully as he could that he might acquire a reputation
and thus secure invitations which would give him the opportunity of
appeasing his gnawing hunger.” At such times, when not observed, he
would fill his pockets with “nadeln” or other delicacies. Reutter
himself had very little income from which to pay his choir-boys, so
they had to famish.
Notwithstanding he sensitively felt the misery of his condition,
Haydn’s youthful buoyancy did not desert him. Dies says: “At the time
the court was building the Summer Palace at Schonbrunn, Haydn had to
sing there with the church musicians in the Whitsuntide holidays.
When not engaged in the church he joined the other boys, climbing the
scaffolding and made considerable noise on the boards. One day the
boys suddenly perceived a lady; it was Maria Theresa herself, who at
once ordered some one to drive away the noisy youngsters, and threaten
them with a whipping if they were caught there again. On the very next
day, urged on by his temerity, Haydn climbed the scaffolding alone, was
caught and received the promised punishment which he deserved. Many
years afterward, when Haydn was engaged in Prince Esterhazy’s service,
the Empress came to Esterhaz. Haydn presented himself and offered his
humble thanks for the punishment received on that occasion. He had to
relate the whole story, which occasioned much merriment.”
At that time we behold our hero in an exalted and dignified position,
but how thorny was the upward course!
“The beautiful voice with which he had so often satisfied his hunger,
suddenly became untrue and commenced to break,” says Dies. The Empress
was accustomed to attend the festival of St. Leopold at the neighboring
monastery of Klosterneuburg. She had already intimated to Reutter,
in sport, that Haydn “could not sing any more, he crowed.” At this
festival, therefore, he selected the younger brother, Michael, for the
singing. He pleased the Empress so much that she sent him twenty-four
ducats. As Haydn was no longer of any service to Reutter in a pecuniary
way, and particularly as his place was now filled, he decided to
dismiss his superfluous boarder. Haydn’s boyish folly accelerated
his departure. One of the other choir-boys wore his hair in a queue,
contrary to the style, and Haydn had cut it off. Reutter decided that
he should be feruled. The time of punishment came. Haydn, now eighteen
years of age, sought in every way to escape, and at last declared that
he would not be a choir-boy any longer if he were punished: “That will
not help you. You shall first be punished and then march.”
Reutter kept his word, but he counseled his dismissed singer to become
a soprano, as they were very well paid at that time. Haydn, with
genuine manliness, would not consent to the tempting proposal, and late
in the autumn of 1749 he started out in the great world in which he was
such a stranger, “helpless, without money, with three poor shirts and a
thread-bare coat.” After wandering about the streets, distressed with
hunger, he threw himself down on the nearest bench and spent his first
night in the damp November air, under the open heavens. He was lucky
enough to meet an acquaintance, also a choir-singer, and an instructor
as well. Though he and his wife and child occupied one small chamber,
he gave the helpless wanderer shelter--a trait of that Austrian
humanity which, at a later period, was reflected in the exquisite tones
of Haydn’s art. “His parents were very much distressed,” says Dies
again; “his poor mother, especially, expressed her solicitude with
tearful eyes. She begged her son to yield to the wishes and prayers of
his parents and devote himself to the church. She gave him no rest,
but Haydn was immovable. He would give them no reasons. He thought
he expressed himself clearly enough when he compressed his feelings
into the few words: ‘I can never be a priest.’” In his seventy-sixth
year, he said to the choir-boys who were presented to him: “Be really
honest and industrious and never forget God.” It is evident, therefore,
that it was not the lack of sincere piety that kept him from the
priesthood. He felt that he was called to another and more fitting
sphere, and we now know that his feelings and impulses did not deceive
him.
Necessity, however, came near forcing him into the life he had so
resolutely refused, for he got little money from the serenades and
choir-work in which he took part, though at other times it left him
the wished-for leisure for study and composition. The quiet loneliness
in that little dark garret under the tiles, the complete lack of
those things which can entertain an unoccupied mind, and the utter
piteousness of his condition, at times led him into such unhappy
reveries that he was driven to his music to chase away his troubles.
“At one time,” says Dies, “his thoughts were so gloomy, or more likely
his hunger was so keen, that he resolved, in spite of his prejudices,
to join the Servite Order so that he could get sufficient to eat. This,
however, was only a fleeting impulse, for his nature would never allow
him to really take such a step. His disposition happily inclined to
joyousness and saved him from any serious outbreaks of melancholy. When
the summer rain or the winter snow, leaking through the cracks of the
roof, awoke him, he regarded such little accidents as natural, and made
sport of them.”
For some time he was not positively sure what course to pursue, and he
projected a thousand plans, which were abandoned almost as soon as they
were formed. For the most part hunger was the motive that urged him on
to rash resolves, for instance, a pilgrimage to the Maria cloister in
Styria. There he went at once to the choir-master, announced himself
as a chapel-scholar, produced some of his musical sketches, and
offered his services. The choir-master did not believe his story and
dismissed him, as he became more importunate, saying: “There are too
many ragamuffins coming here from Vienna, claiming to be chapel-boys,
who can’t sing a note.” Another day, Haydn went to the choir, made the
acquaintance of one of the singers and begged of him his music-book.
The young man excused himself on the ground that it was against the
rules. Haydn pressed a piece of money into his hand and stood by him
until the music commenced. Suddenly he seized the book out of his
hands and sang so beautifully that the chorus-master was amazed, and
afterward apologized to him. The priests also inquired about him and
invited him to their table. Haydn remained there eight days, and, as
he said, filled his stomach for a long time to come, and afterward was
presented with a little purse made up for him.
Among the bequests in Haydn’s will of 1802 is the following: “To the
maiden, Anna Buchholz, one hundred florins, because her grandfather
in my youth and at a time of urgent necessity lent me one hundred and
fifty florins, without interest, which I repaid fifty years ago.” This,
for him a considerable loan, enabled him for the first time to have a
room of his own where he could work quietly. This was not far from the
year 1750. Dies relates, in the year 1805: “Chance placed in Haydn’s
hands, a short time before, one of his youthful compositions which
he had utterly forgotten--a short four-voiced mass with two obligato
soprano parts. The discovery of this lost child, after fifty-two
years of absence, was the occasion of true joy to the parent. ‘What
particularly pleases me in this little work,’ said he, ‘is its melody
and positive youthful spirit,’ and he decided to give it a modern
dress.” The mass was by this means preserved and may be regarded as his
first large work. We are thus enabled to date it at the beginning of
the year 1750.
At that time Haydn lived in the Michaeler house (which is still
preserved), in the Kohlmarket, one of the choicest sections of the
city, but was again under the roof and exposed to the inclemency of the
weather. At one time the room had no stove, and winter mornings he had
to bring water from the well, as that in his wash-basin was frozen.
There were some distinguished occupants in the house; the princess
Esterhazy, whose son, Paul Anton, became Haydn’s first patron, and the
famous and talented poet Metastasio, who not long after confided to him
his little friend Marianna Martines as a piano scholar, and paid his
board as compensation. The child must have been well grounded in music,
for thirty years later Mozart frequently played four-handed pieces
with her. Her instruction, after the style of the time, obliged Haydn
to write little compositions. These early pieces circulated freely
but they have all been lost. He considered it a compliment for people
to accept them, and did not know that the music-dealers were doing a
flourishing business with them. Many a time he stopped with delight
before the windows to gaze at one or another of the published copies.
That this work, however, was very distasteful to him is evident from
his own words: “After my voice was absolutely gone, I dragged myself
through eight miserable years, teaching the young. It is this wretched
struggle for bread which crushes so many men of genius, taking the
time they should devote to study. It was my own bitter experience and
I should have accomplished little or nothing if I had not zealously
worked at night upon my compositions.” Urgent as his necessity was, he
declined to take a permanent and good paying position in a Vienna band,
and thereby sell his entire time. “Freedom! what more can one ask for?”
said Beethoven. Haydn insisted upon having it at least for his genius.
Many times in his life he gave expression to this feeling. In his old
age he said to Griesinger: “When I sat at my old worm-eaten piano, I
envied no king his happiness.” We shall see that he had more of real
inward happiness as a composer, than as a pianist.
With such a disposition he easily retained his good humor and
equanimity, and, many of his youthful traits clearly reflect the Haydn
of the genial minuets and humorous finales. For the entertainment of
his comrades, who were never lacking, he once tied a chestnut roaster’s
hand-cart to the wheels of a fiacre, and then called to the driver of
the latter to go on, while he quietly made off, followed by the curses
of the two victims. At another time he conceived the idea of inviting
several musicians at a specified hour to a pretended serenade. The
rendezvous was in the Tiefengraben, where Beethoven lived for a few
years after his arrival in Vienna. They were instructed to distribute
themselves before different houses and at the street-corners. Even
in the High Bridge street, where Mozart lived at a later period,
stood a kettle-drummer. Very few of the musicians knew why they were
there, and each had permission to play what he pleased. Dies concludes
his description of this roguish trick as follows: “Scarcely had the
horrible concert begun when the astonished occupants threw open their
windows and commenced to curse the infernal music. In the meantime
the watchmen approached. The players scampered off at the right time,
except the drummer and one violinist, who were arrested. As they
would not name the ringleader, they were discharged after a few days’
imprisonment.”
It was at this time of his early struggles that he went out one day to
purchase some piano work suitable for study, and acting upon the advice
of the music-dealer took a volume of the sonatas of Philip Emanuel
Bach, the composer, who first placed piano music upon an independent
and so to speak, poetical foundation. “It appears to me,” says this
gifted son of the great Bach, in an autobiographical sketch, “that it
is the special province of music to move the heart.” To such an one
the genial and imaginative nature of our genuine Austrian musician did
involuntary homage from the very first. “I never left my piano until
I had played the sonatas through,” said Haydn, when old, with all
the enthusiasm of youth, “and he who knows me thoroughly can not but
find that I owe very much to Bach, for I understood and studied him
profoundly. Indeed, upon one occasion he complimented me upon it.”
Bach once said that he was the only one who completely understood him
and could make good use of his knowledge. Rochlitz informs us that
Haydn said: “I played these sonatas innumerable times, especially
when I felt troubled, and I always left the instrument refreshed and
in cheerful spirits.” A sketch of this same Bach, dated 1764, says:
“Always rich in invention, attractive and spirited in melody, bold and
stately in harmony, we know him already by a hundred masterpieces, but
not as yet do we fully know him.”
In reality, instrumental music was now for the first time entering with
self-confidence and strength upon the freer path of the opera. The end
of that path, though far distant, was individual characterization. Bach
himself once wrote a preface to a trio for strings. He says in it that
he has sought to express something which otherwise would require voices
and words. It may be regarded as a conversation between a sanguine and
a melancholy person who dispute with one another through the first and
second movements, until the melancholy man accepts the assertion of the
other. At last, they are reconciled in the finale. The melancholy man
commences the movement with a certain feeble cheerfulness, mixed with
sadness, which at last threatens to become actual grief, but after a
pause, is dissipated in a figure of lively triplets. The sanguine man
follows steadily along, “out of courtesy,” and they strengthen their
agreement, while the one imitates the other even to his identity. From
such germs, in which the intellectual idea is more than its artistic
expression, Haydn evolved that which made him the founder of modern
instrumental music, the extreme limit of which is the representation of
the world’s vital will.
Melody, in other words, the vital will illuminated by reason, also
begins at this point to assert its sure mastery, as the song and the
dance were then the essential type of this modern instrumental music.
Key, accent, rhythm, even the rests, now became the conscious means of
fixed color and tone, in which every emotion, every aspiration, every
exertion of our powers has its full value. Harmonic modulations help
to maintain and to deepen the given tone-color. Above all else, the
dissonance is no longer a matter of mere chance or transient charm to
the ear, but the road to an absolute effect, designed by the composer.
Bach many a time sought for it, but Haydn gave it poetical effect. He
does not hesitate, for example, in the finale of the great E flat major
sonata, to introduce the augmented triad, which Richard Wagner uses in
such a strikingly characteristic manner, bringing it in as a prepared
dissonance, but at the same time allowing it to enter freely. And still
more, they had before them the boundless treasures of Sebastian Bach,
which Mozart and Beethoven at a later period opened so fully and which
they emphasized with such heart-stirring power.
The difference of keys moreover became recognized as of greater
value, and the ground-color of pieces is more individual. It does not
follow, however, on this account that the marvelous gifts of native
counterpoint were thrown aside. On the other hand, Haydn, in his
treatment of the so-called thematic development in the second part of
the first movement and in the finale of the sonata, brings them out
according to their proper intellectual value, so that this music also
must be “heard with the understanding.” Finally, the salient points
of the whole style, which was called the “galante,” because it did
not belong to the church or to the erudite but to the salon, is as,
we may say, the grand architectural gradations and building up of the
whole, which gives to it an arrangement of parts like the symmetry of
the Renaissance art, and the same similarity modern music in general
holds to the Gothic of the German counterpoint. Haydn by nature and
every vital function, belonged to active life, with its manifold forms
of thought and changing mental conditions, and, therefore, found the
sonata-form the very best for the depositing of his musical wealth,
and for the magnifying of his own inner powers and capacities by its
further development. It was for this reason that he played the Bach
“Sonatas for Students and Amateurs” with such delight and sat at his
piano so gladly, for it aroused in him a freer activity of fancy and
heartfelt emotions of similar form.
Philip Emanuel Bach’s instruction book, the “Versuch uber die wahre
Art das Clavier zu spielen,” published in Berlin in 1753, with which
Haydn became acquainted shortly afterward, was, in his judgment, “the
best, most thorough and useful work which had ever appeared as an
instruction book,” and Mozart as well as Beethoven expressed the same
opinion, and yet the ridiculous accusation was made after this that
Haydn had copied and caricatured Bach, because Bach was not on good
terms with him. The story may perhaps have arisen from the fact that
Bach in his autobiography (1773) sought to attribute the decline of the
music of his day to “the comedian so popular just now.” This, however,
referred to something entirely different, and in 1783, Bach publicly
wrote: “I am constrained by news I have received from Vienna to believe
that this worthy man, whose works give me more and more pleasure, is
as truly my friend as I am his. Work alone praises or condemns its
masters, and I therefore measure every one by that standard.” Dies even
declares that Haydn, in 1795, returned from London by way of Hamburg to
make the personal acquaintance of Bach, but arrived too late, for he
was dead. Bach died in 1788, and could it be possible that Haydn was
not aware of it? The journey by way of Hamburg had another purpose.
Haydn still kept up his violin practice, and received further
instruction from his countryman and friend, Dittersdorf, afterward the
composer of “The Doctor and Apothecary.” Dies says: “Once they strolled
through the streets at night and stopped before a common beer-house,
in which some half drunk and sleepy musicians were wretchedly scraping
away on a Haydn minuet. ‘Let us go in,’ said Haydn. They entered the
drinking-room. Haydn stepped up to the first fiddler and very coolly
asked: ‘Whose minuet is this?’ The fiddler replied still more coolly,
and even fiercely: ‘Haydn’s.’ Haydn strode up to him, saying with
feigned anger: ‘It is a worthless thing.’ ‘What! what! what!’ shrieked
the interrupted fiddler, in his wrath, springing up from his seat. The
rest of the players imitated their leader, and would have beaten Haydn
over the head with their instruments, had not Dittersdorf, who was of
larger stature, seized him in his arms and shoved him out of doors.”
Dittersdorf himself, in his biography, narrates another instance of
this intimacy. In 1762, he accompanied Gluck to Italy. During his
absence, the famous Lolli appeared in Vienna with great success. On
his return, he resolved to surpass Lolli’s fame, and feigning sickness
he kept his room for an entire week, and practiced incessantly. Then
he reappeared and achieved a success. The universal verdict was, that
Lolli excited wonder and Dittersdorf too, but that the latter played
to the heart also. He adds: “The rest of the summer and the following
winter, I was frequently in the society of the gracious Haydn. Every
new piece of other composers which we heard we criticised between
ourselves, commending what was good and condemning what was bad.”
But let us return to the year 1750. Dies says: “When about twenty-one
years of age, Haydn composed a comic opera with German text. It was
called ‘Der Krumme Teufel,’ (‘The Devil on Two Sticks’) and originated
in a singular way. Kurtz, a theatrical genius, was at that time the
manager of the old Karnthnerthor theater, and amused the public as
_Bernardon_. He had heard Haydn very favorably mentioned, which induced
him to seek his acquaintance. A happy chance soon furnished the
opportunity. Kurtz had a beautiful wife, who condescended to receive
serenades from the young artists. The young Haydn (who called this
‘Gassatim gehen,’ and composed a quintet for just such an occasion in
1753) brought her a serenade, whereat not only the lady but Kurtz also
felt honored. He sought Haydn’s closer acquaintance, and after this,
the following scene occurred in his house. ‘Sit down at the piano,’
said Kurtz, ‘and accompany the pantomime which I will perform for you,
with fitting music. Imagine that _Bernardon_ has fallen into the water
and is trying to save himself by swimming!’ Kurtz calls an attendant
and sprawls across a chair, while it is drawn here and there about the
room, flinging out his arms and legs like a swimmer, Haydn meantime
imitating the motion of the waves and the action of swimming in 6/8
time. _Bernardon_ suddenly sprang up, embraced Haydn, and, nearly
smothering him with kisses, exclaimed: ‘Haydn, you are the man for
me. You must write me an opera!’ This was the origin of ‘Der Krumme
Teufel.’ Haydn received twenty-five ducats for it, and thought himself
very rich. It was brought out twice with great applause and was then
prohibited on account of the offensive personality of the text.”
Here, therefore, we have an example of the fruitful germs of invention
which Haydn displayed in motives and melodies, showing us, as it were,
a personal presence possessing those musical characteristics which
Mozart and Beethoven developed with such striking fidelity to life,
and which by their efforts again invested dramatic representation with
a new language. What the Italian had accomplished only in the way of
a certain native grace of melody, and the French, on the other hand,
with too partial a study in their dramatic recitative and piano music,
German intelligence, and above all, German feeling, accomplished by
the unprejudiced acceptance of melody itself. We also observe, mingled
with these elements, that vein of German humor which first welled up in
complete spontaneity and fullness in Haydn’s music, so that we have, as
it were, all the successive steps of development in the building up of
his artistic individuality. At this point his youth and the main part
of his early education close. We have reached the period of his first
original creation, but it may be of interest, before we close this
first chapter, to add a few words about the opera itself, in order that
we may appreciate the real nature of this first original accomplishment
of the artist as it deserves.
We observe, first of all, that in the test of his skill he was to
illustrate a storm at sea and the struggle of a drowning man, and
that Haydn’s fingers at last involuntarily fell into the movement,
(6/8 time), which the comedian wished. In the piece itself, an old,
love-sick dotard was to be cured and the good-natured devil must help.
The details of this story and many other incidents of that period of
art in Vienna may be found in C. F. Pohl’s “Joseph Haydn,” Vol. I
(Berlin, 1875). But the principal point to be observed here is the
close union of absolute music with the dramatic element, especially
with the action, and that it was the perfection of the genuine humor
of the popular Vienna comedies of that time which first directed
Haydn’s fancy to the expression of pantomime in tones. When the “Krumme
Teufel” was finished, Haydn brought it to Kurtz, but the maid would
not let him in, so we are told, because her master was “studying.”
What was Haydn’s astonishment when looking through a glass door he
beheld _Bernardon_ standing before a large mirror, making faces and
acting comical pantomime! It was the “free, sprightly comedy” which the
Vienna harlequin possessed, and which was now revealed to Haydn in its
complete individuality by personal observation. But finally, while this
humor was kept down at this time by its own crudeness and narrowness,
as soon as the higher dramatic poetry of the German language sprung up
in Austria, it reappeared in a nobler form in music, and it is Haydn
who represented this genuine German popular humor in our art. The last
Vienna harlequin, _Bernardon_, and his buffoonery disappeared, but the
comedy was preserved in full and permanent inheritance by Haydn in his
comic opera, “Der Krumme Teufel.” The opera itself we do not possess,
but its healthy and noble promise is realized all through Haydn’s
instrumental music, to the origin of which we now come.