At the age of twenty-eight Haydn composed his first symphony. Soon after
this he attracted the attention of the old Prince Esterhazy, all the
members of whose family have become known in the history of music as
generous Mæcenases of the art.
"What! you don't mean to say that little blackamoor" (alluding to
Haydn's brown complexion and small stature) "composed that symphony?"
"Surely, prince," replied the director Friedburg, beckoning to Joseph
Haydn, who advanced toward the orchestra.
"Little Moor," says the old gentleman, "you shall enter my service. I am
Prince Esterhazy. What's your name?"
"Haydn."
"Ah! I've heard of you. Get along and dress yourself like a
_Kapellmeister_. Clap on a new coat, and mind your wig is curled. You're
too short. You shall have red heels; but they shall be high, that your
stature may correspond with your merit."
So he went to live at Eisenstadt in the Esterhazy household, and
received a salary of four hundred florins, which was afterward raised to
one thousand by Prince Nicholas Esterhazy. Haydn continued the intimate
friend and associate of Prince Nicholas for thirty years, and death only
dissolved the bond between them. In the Esterhazy household the life of
Haydn was a very quiet one, a life of incessant and happy industry; for
he poured out an incredible number of works, among them not a few of
his most famous ones. So he spent a happy life in hard labor, alternated
with delightful recreations at the Esterhazy country-seat, mountain
rambles, hunting and fishing, open-air concerts, musical evenings, etc.
A French traveler who visited Esterhaz about 1782 says: "The château
stands quite solitary, and the prince sees nobody but his officials
and servants, and strangers who come hither from curiosity. He has
a puppet-theatre, which is certainly unique in character. Here the
grandest operas are produced. One knows not whether to be amazed or to
laugh at seeing 'Alceste,' 'Alcides,' etc., put on the stage with all
due solemnity and played by puppets. His orchestra is one of the best
I ever heard, and the great Hadyn is his court and theatre composer.
He employs a poet for his singular theatre, whose humor and skill
in suiting the grandest subjects for the stage, and in parodying the
gravest effects, are often exceedingly happy. He often engages a troupe
of wandering players for months at a time, and he himself and his
retinue form the entire audience. They are allowed to come on the stage
uncombed, drunk, their parts not half learned, and half dressed. The
prince is not for the serious and tragic, and he enjoys it when the
players, like Sancho Panza, give loose reins to their humor."
Yet Haydn was not perfectly contented. He would have been had it not
been for his terrible wife, the hair-dresser's daughter, who had a
dismal, mischievous, sullen nature, a venomous tongue, and a savage
temper. She kept Haydn in hot water continually, till at last he broke
loose from this plague by separating from her. Scandal says that
Haydn, who had a very affectionate and sympathetic nature, found ample
consolation for marital infelicity in the charms and society of the
lovely Boselli, a great singer. He had her picture painted, and humored
all her whims and caprices, to the sore depletion of his pocket.
In after-years again he was mixed up in a little affair with the great
Mrs. Billington, whose beautiful person was no less marked than her fine
voice. Sir Joshua Reynolds was painting her portrait for him, and had
represented her as St. Cecilia listening to celestial music. Haydn paid
her a charming compliment at one of the sittings.
"What do you think of the charming Billington's picture?" said Sir
Joshua.
"Yes," said Haydn, "it is indeed a beautiful picture. It is just like
her, but there's a strange mistake."
"What is that?"
"Why, you have painted her listening to the angels, when you ought to
have painted the angels listening to her."
At one time, during Haydn's connection with Prince Esterhazy, the
latter, from motives of economy, determined to dismiss his celebrated
orchestra, which he supported at great expense. Haydn was the leader,
and his patron's purpose caused him sore pain, as indeed it did all the
players, among whom were many distinguished instrumentalists. Still,
there was nothing to be done but for all concerned to make themselves as
cheerful as possible under the circumstances; so, with that fund of wit
and humor which seems to have been concealed under the immaculate coat
and formal wig of the straitlaced Haydn, he set about composing a work
for the last performance of the royal band, a work which has ever since
borne the appropriate title of the "Farewell Symphony."
On the night appointed for the last performance a brilliant company,
including the prince, had assembled. The music of the new symphony began
gayly enough--it was even merry. As it went on, however, it became
soft and dreamy. The strains were sad and "long drawn out." At length a
sorrowful wailing began. One instrument after another left off, and each
musician, as his task ended, blew out his lamp and departed with his
music rolled up under his arm.
Haydn was the last to finish, save one, and this was the prince's
favorite violinist, who said all that he had to say in a brilliant
violin cadenza, when, behold! he made off.
The prince was astonished. "What is the meaning of all this?" cried he.
"It is our sorrowful farewell," answered Haydn.
This was too much. The prince was overcome, and, with a good laugh,
said: "Well, I think I must reconsider my decision. At any rate, we will
not say 'good-by' now."